Episode 2-a. The City Where Night Never Comes, Tebris. (4)
Just like that, after repeating the same investigation routine for two full days, a problem cropped up.
On the second night, when the sky was as bright as ever, something strange happened when we all gathered again. Even if we didn't feel tired, we needed time to catch our breath, so the kids had gone back to the inn to rest. That's when the door burst open.
"...What the hell."
Horn came stomping in, Aberly slung over his shoulder like a sack. He dumped him on the floor with a heavy thud and spat out his words.
"Rookie, whatever you do, don't touch the entertainment around here. Something's off. The moment you start indulging, people go weird."
"Weird how? Do you pass out if you enjoy it?"
No way—that couldn't be it. Then what about all those people out there having a blast?
"Nah, not that. He wouldn't listen no matter what I said, so I clocked him on the head and knocked him out cold."
"..."
Yeah, that figured. No wonder the back of Aberly's head looked a bit lumpy. This old dwarf... I wondered if he'd swung too hard, with murderous intent.
"First off, help me strip this idiot of all his reagents and tools, then tie him up tight with rope. Then I'll explain."
"Got it."
So Horn and I dragged Aberly around, stripped off his robe, emptied his pockets of every gadget, bound him up with rope, and tossed him onto the bed. Under the blank stares of the kids munching on snacks, we got down to business.
"So, what's the deal with Aberly?"
"Hoo... While you lot were checking quiet spots, we hit up the packed gambling dens and entertainment joints. After watching and spying for two straight days, we spotted something fishy."
"Fishy how?"
"Yeah. Folks who first wandered into those places seemed normal enough. But after a bit of fun, one by one, they started acting off."
I nodded instead of answering, waiting for him to go on. Horn let out a deep sigh and continued.
"Not full-on crazy or anything blatant, but even after just a few rounds, they got hooked way too fast. Not everyone, mind you—some played more and walked away fine."
According to the old dwarf, not everybody fell under it, but those who did got sucked in unnaturally quick.
"So after two days of observation, I figured we needed to test it ourselves. That's why Aberly and I gave it a few rounds..."
"What? Are you senile? Why the hell would you do that?"
"I'm fine, ain't I? And it wasn't reckless—it was to prove our hypothesis from the watching."
In other words, to test the theory, they played a few hands themselves, and only Aberly ended up messed up.
"The city's problem is definitely magic. Don't know what kind, but there's some spell over the whole damn place that pulls you into the fun. Proof? I wore my magic-resistance cloak and I'm good. He was in his regular robe and lost his marbles."
Horn said that and flapped his cloak for emphasis.
"Thinking back, the ones who enjoyed it and left fine probably had artifacts with magic resistance too. Doesn't fully cancel it out, though—just lets you indulge a bit more before getting hooked."
"So if we carry those artifacts, we could at least mitigate the biggest issue in this city..."
"You think?"
Even magic resistance has its limits, huh.
And while we were yapping away, Aberly's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, looked at me and Horn, and spoke.
"Hm, the inn, eh? No need to tie me up like this, though. Sir Horn, must've been some misunderstanding."
"..."
His eyes looked clear. No madness flickering like the old man said, no anxious twitching.
"I'm fine now. Being tied up and unable to do anything snapped me back to my senses. So, untie me? We gotta get back to investigating."
"..."
No wild thrashing or foaming at the mouth. Calm as ever, suggesting we investigate like normal.
Except.
"Ain, the gambling den's super suspicious. That's gotta be where the secret we're after is hidden. Let me go scout it again. Untie me, quick."
"Hey, shut the fuck up."
This guy. No stutter. The ultimate stammerer was speaking clearer and smoother than me, word for word.
I turned to Horn, who was sitting there clutching his head in disbelief.
"Horn, think three good whacks with that hammer would fix him up?"
"Even if he's a quack, he's not a metal ingot—he won't come out right."
I glanced at the iron hammer at his side and pressed on.
"Usually, when kids won't listen, a good smack sets 'em straight. No loss if it doesn't work—wanna try?"
"Hm, fair point. Alright, one more bash it is. Quack, next time you wake up, open your eyes sane, yeah?"
And Horn actually liked the idea, grinning as he hefted his hammer.
The funny part? Even as we closed in, Aberly stayed eerily calm.
"Wait, you two seem way too worked up—put that weapon down first..."
Clang! So we gave him a light tap and knocked him out again.
"Kid's busted bad. They say you fix broken stuff by hammering it, so let's pound him till he's good."
"Aye, that's the way."
Hm. One new fact learned: knocking him out lets him sleep fine.
Aberly's got it good—at least he can snooze for 10 hours straight. Even if he stays a day longer than us, no issue.
Put simply, Horn had the knack for tapping him out just right. Every time Aberly woke, he'd ask if he was okay, and if he still seemed off, whack—back to dreamland.
"Damn, up again in 30 minutes flat. Old timer's anvil-beating skills are still sharp."
"Hundreds of years hammering—think I can't control it? Leave it to me; I'll smith him sane."
Aberly woke precisely 30 minutes after each knockout, spouted straight talk, then ate hammer and slept. And weirdly, no wounds, bruises, or bumps from the iron hits.
I couldn't help but admire it, clapping at every swing. Horn got into the groove, hammering with real enthusiasm.
"Think it's demons, Tori?"
"Yaki, who cares? Long as they're nice to us."
"True that. Let's just focus on investigating."
The kids watched the Aberly-beating spectacle for a good while, passing the time.
And finally.
"Uh, um... s-stop... p-please... y-you'll k-kill someone... A-Ain, S-Sir... th-this is t-too much...?"
"Hey, the bastard's finally snapped out of it. You good?"
"Hah, never been prouder of my hammer work."
Aberly was back to normal, stammering through teary complaints.
"F-Fuck... y-you're both... t-too much..."
"Old man, he's swearing."
"That's a problem. Time for another tune-up."
"N-No, s-swear, stop...!"
Only then did we untie the ropes, facing our regular stuttering quack plague doctor.
According to Aberly, each hand pulled him in deeper without him realizing, filling his head with the urge to gamble. He heard Horn's words but couldn't recall responding.
"Good now?"
"Y-Yeah... f-fine... S-Sorry, but even a w-wild beast would t-talk after that t-torture..."
No, Aberly. Torture? What're you on about.
"Old man, he's calling his comrades' concern and care 'torture'?"
"Hm, hammer's singing extra loud today."
"J-Just leave me alone a d-day or two and I'd snap back, b-but you hammered away—that's t-torture, what else...?"
Of course.
"True, not saying you're wrong."
"Right, quack. Torture laced with concern and care."
"..."
Aberly wasn't off-base. We'd mixed in some payback for his usual weird antics.
Anyway.
We set one rule for the investigation: First Principle—no matter how bad we want the city's secrets, don't risk our lives. There could be hidden dangers lurking, like that entertainment trap, so our lives come first.
If we'd had a mage in the party, maybe different story. But right now, it was just a dwarven blacksmith, a quack doc, a mana-less mid-rank adventurer, and cheerleader twins.
Mages are rare and picky about parties anyway.
And so, the third day, fourth, even up to the fifth—all dragged on with no gains.
Truth is, two teams couldn't comb such a massive city. Playing it safe against unknowns meant we couldn't split up and cover more ground.