The sullen, pimply-faced kid hunched behind the counter of Ye Olde Coffee Haus ran a cleaning rag jerkily across the counter, back forth, back forth, in an odd, almost-syncopated rhythm. He stared dully at the clock as he worked.
The hands finally made it to 1:00 AM. "Only six more hours," he muttered dully.
Then there was a ding as the front door opened, and the kid set his rag aside and stood up straighter, and did his best to come up with a bleary smile. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you?"
The big man with the sweeping cloak strode up to the counter and considered the menu. "I'll have a chocolate hazelnut latté, please," he said.
The kid rang it up, but kept glancing back at his customer's face. Finally he said, "Excuse me, sir, but aren't you Count von Himmel?"
Von Himmel's eyebrows went up. "I am. And you are?"
"Oh, my name is Henry the Bold, sir. My brother, Calvin the Bold, is trying to finish his Hero's Exam, and there was a profile of you in one of the recent issues of 'Heroes Monthly' magazine."
"Oh, was there?" said von Himmel, obviously pleased. "What did it say?"
Henry the Bold frowned in thought. "Well, it seemed to be trying to say that it was kind of a bad system you have over there, sir, with the members of the union's board of directors not actually being union members themselves. They said that was a poor setup because it encouraged you to take advantage of the union members. But they summed up by saying that it was pretty typical and the kind of thing you could expect from Evil Overlords."
Von Himmel looked pleased. "Anything particular about me?"
"Well, the main article was just about the board, but there was a brief profile of you, sir. It said you're very elegant in your looks and your clothes and even in the way you walk, that you're a powerful member of the board, and, um, let me think. Oh, it also said you were having an affair with the girl from Purchasing who was being suspected of embezzlement. You know, the one with the engineering background."
The pleased look had vanished from von Himmel's face. "Uh, right," he stammered. "Um, about that. Did -- did your brother, the hero, ever happen to read through that article or any of the ones like it?"
"Huh? Oh, no, sir," said Henry the Bold. "He never bothers. In fact, based on the advertisements I saw in that magazine -- pizza coupons, bathroom cleaning supplies, rolling pins, saddles, that kind of thing -- I don't think any of the Heroes read it. It looks like they figure everyone in the hero's household will read it, especially the servants -- you know, the cooking staff, the cleaning staff, the stable staff. Everyone but the Heroes themselves."
"Ah," said von Himmel with a nod. "Uh, was there anything in there to suggest that Evil Overlords read the magazine?"
"Uh, no, I don't think there was anything like that either," said the youth.
Von Himmel let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good." He paid for his latté and flipped an extra silver piece across the counter as a tip. "Thank you, my lad."
He found a small table off to the side and seated himself, and paused to let his drink cool. Henry the Bold went back to his jerky rag-dragging.
Suddenly, the front door of the store burst open, and a pack of hounds burst in, howling and baying. Von Himmel stared in perplexity as fully thirty dogs, who clearly were all about getting their hunt on, stumbled over each other in their eagerness to reach the counter.
"Uh, can I help you?" said Henry the Bold.
The foremost of the hounds yelped eagerly and darted over to von Himmel's table, sniffing around wildly. The others were quick to follow, streaming across the hardwood floor and filling the shop with a wild din. Then, with a sqeaky yap, the dogs turned and leapt back out the front door.
Silence fell for a long moment. Von Himmel and Henry the Bold stared at each other, then at the door, then at each other again.
Then the front door opened again, and a bedraggled man in hunting gear stumbled in. "Darn hounds," he huffed. "Got too much energy for this ungodly hour. Ah, while I'm here, I'd like a double espresso, please, to go."
"Okay, I think this is the place," said Roderick, consulting his notes. "Wow. Those walls look sturdy."
"Well, they did say it used to belong to an Evil Overlord," Stan said. "I wonder what real estate prices are like in this neighborhood."
"Okay, so we're here. Does anyone have a plan on how to get in?" Barbara asked.
"Oh, I do!" Johnson volunteered. "How about if we build a big battering ram and knock the door down?"
"Actually," said Roderick, "I was thinking more along the lines of knocking on the door."
Barbara snorted. "Oh, right. You're just going to knock and say, 'Excuse me, but I heard that there was a damsel in distress on the premises. May I be let in?'"
"You know," commented Stan, "that's crazy enough that it might work." Barbara glared at him, and he shrugged. "Hey, it'd be easier than building a battering ram."
"Well, there is that," Roderick said. "If we knock, then they'll open the door, and we won't have to break it down." He shook his head. "I hate to think what heroes have to pay in liability insurance, with all the doors they go knocking down."
"Hey, Evil Overlords do it too," Johnson said. "Henchmen, too, for that matter."
"Well, yeah, but that came out of our dues," Roderick said.
"I'll bet our liability insurance went up too," Stan commented sourly.
"Well, it doesn't matter," said Barbara. "What makes you think they'll open the door?"
"We could pretend to be book salesmen," Johnson said, holding up his copy of Looting and Pillaging for Dummies.
"Why don't we just knock and see if they answer?" said Roderick.
Barbara started to say something, then stopped, with her mouth still open. "I --" she started, then stopped again.
Roderick shrugged, walked over to the door, and rapped loudly.
"I'll go get that," Peggy Jean said between giggles.
"Must you?" Erik said wistfully.
She giggled again, and headed out toward the front door, pulling her shirt back on as she went.
The resounding knock rolled through the entryway again. "Coming," she called. She hurried to the front door and opened it, and found two guards, a barbarian, and a bard blinking at her in surprise. "Can I help you?" she asked.
"Uh, excuse me," said Roderick, "but we heard that there was a damsel in distress on the premises. May we be let in?"
Peggy Jean stared at him in disbelief. "What?" she finally said.
"It's just," Stan said, stepping forward, "that you don't have the necessary permits for holding a damsel in distress on file with the county office."
Peggy Jean blinked and frowned. "Permits?" She turned and called up the stairs. "Erik? Do you know anything about needing permits?"
"Yeah," said Johnson, "this is the right place."
"What?" said Peggy Jean. "What are you talking about?"
Johnson waved his book through the air too quickly for Peggy Jean to be able to read what was on the cover. "Official inspectors, ma'am. You'd better let us in."
"Uh... well, I guess --" she started to say, backing away from the door.
"What's going on down here?" demanded Erik, who was just striding up to the door. "What's this about permits?"
"Oh, it's a county regulation," said Stan. "Statute S14-051A(ii), Chapter 5, Paragraph 21, Verse C. You need permits in order to hold a damsel in distress on the premises of a dwelling unit, and the permit for this property hasn't been renewed."
"I --" said Erik. "You -- what?"
"Wow," said Roderick admiringly to Stan. "You're really good at lying on your feet, you know that?"
"Hey," said Barbara. "You weren't supposed to tell them that."
"Huh? What, you mean we don't need a permit?" said Peggy Jean, confused.
"Where is the damsel being held, ma'am?" said Stan, pushing forward to the front. "We'll have to inspect the living conditions, as well as the bonds you're using to hold her."
Erik, frowning distrustfully, backed slowly down the hallway and took something down from the wall. He returned with a large, wicked-looking scimitar. "I think," he said through clenched teeth, "that this will serve most of the purposes one would fill with a permit."
Roderick and Stan both drew their swords. Johnson pulled out his mace. Peggy Jean squealed and backed hastily away, then turned and fled down the hallway. Erik moved forward to block the doorway.
"Why can't anything be easy?" Stan asked.
Erik darted forward with surprising speed, and Stan just barely managed to get his sword up in time to parry the strike. Roderick swung, but Erik dodged out of the way and lashed out at Stan again.
The battle was cut short, however, when Johnson swung his mace at Erik's legs and knocked him off his feet. The scimitar clattered into the street, and Stan went to retrieve it, and to get rope from the saddlebags, while Roderick and Johnson held him down.
"Are you sure you don't need a permit for this?" Erik said bitterly as Johnson pulled his hands behind his back and began tying them together.
"Pretty sure," Stan said cheerfully.
A sudden yell from behind them made them turn around, just in time to see Peggy Jean flinging the contents of a large coffeepot at Johnson's face.
Johnson flung his arm up to block the attack, and the steaming-hot coffee splashed over his arm. "Aah! Oww!" he cried.
"Roderick! Hold Erik down! Stan, get the girl! Johnson, come with me!" Barbara ordered, sweeping into the building. "Let's find some cold water to put on that burn! Move!" She and Johnson disappeared through the doorway.
Roderick darted forward and grabbed Peggy Jean by the arm, just as she was turning to head back into the house. She flailed her arm toward his face, and he ducked backward without remembering to release his grip on her arm. They both tumbled over in a heap.
"Get her over here," called Stan, who was struggling to hold the struggling Erik down. "It'll be easier for us both to hold both of them down."
Peggy Jean was surprisingly strong for her size, and Roderick struggled to raise himself back to his feet without getting an eye gouged out. "Trying," he panted. "Come here, will you?" He tried to grab her other flailing hand. On the third lunge, he got it, but she twisted away and he lost his grip entirely.
"Stan, look out!" Roderick cried, as Peggy Jean came pelting toward him.
Stan had caught both of Erik's wrists, and was struggling to hold him down, until Peggy Jean lowered her shoulder and crashed into him from behind. The three of them went sprawling. Roderick came running in and grabbed at Peggy Jean's foot, but she twisted away, leaving him holding her shoe. Then she and Erik were on their feet, running into the woods next to her house. By the time Roderick had helped Stan to his feet, Erik and Peggy Jean had already disappeared into the foliage.
"Should we go after them?" asked Roderick.
Stan shook his head and caught his breath. "The only way we could catch up to them would be on horseback, and those trees look pretty dense to be galloping a horse through," he said. "Anyway, we need to check to see if Gisella is still in the house."
Roderick nodded, and the two went inside, shutting and barring the door behind them. As they turned to head for the kitchen, where they could hear Barbara and Johnson talking, Roderick suddenly realized that he was still holding Peggy Jean's shoe. He dropped it onto the hall table and followed Stan down the hallway.
"The deposit is how much?" Darwin demanded.
"Five hundred and fifty gold pieces per dragon," said the girl behind the counter. "Hey, I'm sorry, dude, but that's the fee. We gotta charge it. Too many people end up putting 'em in substandard cages, and voom, they break out, and we're out a dragon. We can't go losing too many dragons or we'll be out of business, know what I'm sayin'?"
"All right, all right," Darwin grunted. "So how much is the deposit for a troll?"
"Oh, they're only a hundred and fifty, but they're only available from our bridgeside locations. Trolls only live under bridges, you know."
"Ugh. How about an ogre?"
"Deposit is fifty. Then the rental fee is ten per day."
"Now, that I can do," Darwin said. "Give me one ogre, one day." He clinked his money down on the counter.
"Good deal, dude. Okay, I'll just go back and bring 'im out." The girl disappeared into the back room, and reappeared a few minutes later leading a large, ugly ogre on a chain around its neck. "Here you go, dude," she said, handing Darwin the end of the chain.
"Okay, ogre," Darwin said. "Go get her."
The ogre reached out a long, grotesquely muscled arm and picked up the girl by the collar. She yelled and flailed her arms through the air.
"Now," Darwin said pleasantly, "about that dragon."
"Now, you're the second group to be asking after Erik the Goth," yelled the captain of the guard, struggling to make himself heard over the whining and yelping of the hounds.
"Second? What do you mean?" yelled Sir Hugo's master-at-arms.
"Well, there was a group just yesterday afternoon asking just the same question as you're asking now," said the captain.
"What kind of group?"
"Well, there were just four of them. Two guards, plus a barbarian and a bard."
The master-at-arms shook his head. "I don't have the slightest idea who that could have been."
The captain shrugged. "Well anyway, last we saw Erik the Goth, he had a girl tied to his horse, and there was another girl riding along with him. Best we can figure, the girl who wasn't tied up may have been a girl we know named Peggy Jean, who sometimes stops in and makes coffee for us. So it might be worth your while to head on down to her place and see if you can find anything interesting there."
The master-at-arms spread his hands. "We can certainly try. The hounds will probably be able to take us there, of course, but they are beginning to tire after tracking all night and part of the morning, so I want to give them a rest if I can. So yes, anything you can do to help point us in the right direction would be greatly appreciated."
"Pointing I can do." The captain pointed down the road to his left, the hounds' right. "Off that way. Turn left at the big blue crystal in the hillside, then right at the vandalized statue of Sir Jello. It'll be three blocks from there."
"Sounds good. So how long would it take to get there, total?"
The captain shrugged. "Oh, maybe around twenty minutes."
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