Reagan, his companions, and Roy met up again in the bathhouse. “Are you insulting me?” The dwarves were surrounding Roy, washing the dirt off their legs. “You won the match last night, so why did you give this back? You think I’m a sore loser? We are no sore losers!”

“Reagan, since I won the match, that means I’m the crossbow’s owner.” Roy was tense and serious. “So I reserve the right to give it to someone better.”

“Y-you’re giving this to me?” Reagan pointed at him with his pudgy finger, at a loss for words. A while later, he sighed. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s your liquor, after all.”

“Take it as a token of friendship. Elder Brovar did say you guys will be going around with me for the next few days.”

“Any more wine then?” Dave licked his lips.

“If the chance comes, let’s just say you can fill yourself with all the wine you want.”

“We’re friends from now on, Roy!” Dave smacked Roy in excitement, and Roy almost teared up from the pain, his skin turning red.

“Alright, let’s talk business. The elder wants you guys to help me out with the murders,” Roy whispered. They formed a circle, and Roy planned on telling them a few things, since they were already a team. “I need some help. Have you ever seen anyone with a weird tattoo on them?”

“What kind of tattoo?”

“Shh, pipe down.” Roy showed the marking of an antler overlapping a spider web to the dwarves and scanned their faces, but to his disappointment, they looked baffled, obviously never seeing that mark before. 

“What does this mark mean, Roy? Why are you looking for it?” Reagan shook his head. “Elder Brovar thinks beards and chest hair are enough to show manliness, so there’s no need for nonsense like tattoos. That’s why we never advocate that here, and not even one in a hundred of us has tattoos. Oh, but those who’ve left the mountain love it though. I’ve seen every guy’s body here, but I’ve never seen this tattoo on them.”

Dave, Drew, and Barney expressed the same sentiment.

“I see. But keep an eye out for me, and keep this a secret.”

“Of course. If I ever let this slip, I’ll never have any wine again.”

“Same thing here.”

“Me too.”

On the other hand, a gray-haired, muscular dwarf slid into the bath as the dwarves made their promise, and he looked up as he wiped himself off.

“The night-shifters usually come in later. I wonder who that guy is.” Roy shifted his attention to the newcomer. The dwarf’s face was sagging, his sun spots apparent. The laugh lines beneath the sides of his nose were deep, and the creases on his forehead also drooped. If Roy converted his age to a human’s, the dwarf would be around fifty to sixty years old.

And then Roy’s eyes turned dark for a moment. Benson Fugnar? Hm, a hundred and fifty years old, no buffs or debuffs, normal stats, and normal skills. “Is that old chap over there a miner?”

The dwarves looked at Benson. Dave, Drew, and Reagan tried their hardest to remember, while Barney looked smug. “I might stutter, b-but I have a g-good memory. I-I recognized you first, y-you know.”

“Get to the point, mate,” Roy said.

“Alright then.” Barney gazed at the old dwarf with respect. “Mr. Benson Fugnar i-is a hundred and fifty this year. H-he’s about the same age as E-Elder Brovar, but h-he’s a nice guy, a-and he doesn’t p-put up airs. A-all the miners l-love him.”

Dwarves might live long lives, but dwarves that could live for more than a hundred and twenty years in a time where wars and disasters were rife were rare. “Why is he still working as a miner then? Shouldn’t he be enjoying life?” Roy asked.

Barney puffed his chest. “A-as long a-as we can move, w-we must work. I-if we don’t work, there’s no food o-on the table.”

Roy shot another question, “What’s his job then?”

“T-the fifth mining area’s c-clerk. H-he’s in charge o-of the schedule.”

“The area Kaerwen’s in charge of, huh?” Roy replied, and at the same time, Benson did something weird. He hugged his legs out of nowhere and started wailing, his cries filling the bathhouse.

Barney, the most sensitive out of them, teared up and sobbed.

“Why is he crying? Did his family die in the murders or something?”

Reagan answered that in Barney’s place, “No, his family’s alive and kicking, and he just got a grandchild not too long ago.” He sounded envious.

“His son’s worse off than I am, so I wonder how on Mahakams he managed to marry the woman he loved and bore two children on top of that. Elder Brovar even baptised his kids as an acknowledgement for their contribution.” Dwarves were not as fertile as humans, so having two children was a great contribution to the tribe.

“That’s a great honor, and it hasn’t been too long since then, so why is he looking so depressed? Did something happen to the kids?” Reagan frowned, feeling perplexed.

On the other hand, Roy finally had a breakthrough. I’ve been staking out at this place for days. Finally someone’s acting weird. I need to look into this. “Barney, shouldn’t you go up there and calm him down? He’s your elder, after all.”

Barney scratched his head in confusion, but then he thought Roy had a point, so he didn’t retort. 

“Be casual, okay?”

Barney was reluctant. “Y-you keep t-telling me t-to pull stupid t-things like this off.”

“Mr. Benson watched over you guys, didn’t he? Shouldn’t you talk to him? At least show some gratitude for his guidance.”

“Alright, fine. I get it.”

***

A short while later, Roy got some information from Barney. He’s reminiscing about the past because he’s getting on in age. Benson couldn’t hold it in because he was thinking about the comrades who died on the battlefield, huh? Is that really the case? “Guys, take me to his place.”

***

Black Metal Inn was the only inn in Mount Carbon that was approved by the elders, so it was usually packed. But because of the murders that had happened lately, the men would stay at home when night fell to take care of their families. Because of that, the inn’s business was impacted heavily.

The inn was brightly lit as usual that night, but only a few customers were inside. One of them was a gray-haired dwarf in yellow pajamas drinking alone in the corner. He would occasionally look up, turning sober for a moment and looking around nervously, as if worried something might happen.

On the other hand, Letho and Roy were sitting beside the window. “You can’t be asking me out at this hour just for some wine, can you?”

“I have some important information here.” Letho deftly shaved his stubble using his short sword. “Remember what you told me last night? Yeah, I looked into it and discovered Kaerwen’s secret. It’s a big one.”

“Put that aside for now.” Roy calmed down and patted Letho’s hand. “One problem at a time. Keep an eye on the dwarf right there.” Roy glanced at the target nonchalantly and whispered, “Don’t let him catch you.”

“Anything suspicious about him?” Letho gulped some dwarven liquor, and he squinted from the strong kick of the alcohol.

“That dwarf is Benson Fugnar, a clerk working in the fifth mining area. He’s in charge of the miners’ schedule. He bawled like a baby in the bathhouse today. Never saw anyone doing that before.” Roy sighed. “He’s the only one who’s been acting weird, so maybe he knows something.”

“Worth a try.” Letho put his mug down and gave Roy a look of approval. “Good job. Never overlook anything out of place. You never know what you might find if you look into it.”

Roy shrugged. “But his lips are sealed. Not even my friends managed to get anything from him, let alone outsiders like us. You’ll have to be more, I don’t know, witcher-y about it.”

The clock in the inn struck midnight, and Benson got up drowsily. He wiped the wine from his lips, shook his head, and went out. Mount Carbon was freezing at night, and one kiss from the wind was enough to turn the wine on his beard to ice. Even his nose turned red from it, but he didn’t care about it. Benson trudged ahead to the steps leading to his cave, not unlike a soulless puppet.

He dragged himself to the dark, narrow alley behind the inn and looked up at the moon that was nearly full. It’s nearly the full moon. Benson took a deep breath, his eyes filled with fear, his lips trembling. He fell into a trance, as if he’d seen something terrifying, and then the moon turned red before his eyes, screams of agony piercing the air around him.

And then Benson felt something on his shoulder, so he snapped out of it only to be greeted by someone he’d never met before. The man before him was bald, had sculpted features, a pointed jaw, deep-set eyes, and a distant look. Benson also saw a part of a sword on the man’s back. 

He staggered backward. “And you are?” 

The man grinned toothily. “Sorry,” he said. And then a chill ran up Benson’s spine sobering him up, but before he could do anything, an illusion played before his eyes. Letho’s fingers split into dozens and hundreds of tentacles, surrounding him, blocking his every route of escape.

“That’s a whole lot of fingers for a witcher…”

***

The dwarf’s eyes lost their gleam and focus, and the witcher mumbled something to him. “Benson Fugnar, you would cry in the bathhouse alone and numb yourself with liquor in the inn. I know the cause of that. It’s from the secret you’re keeping, isn’t it? You bury it deep in your heart, never telling anyone, not even your family. But eventually, the secret starts to gnaw at your conscience. The guilt you feel is killing you, and not even the wine you consume can numb the pain.” Benson started to look like he was in pain at that point. “And now a listener comes up to you. He’s just a traveler passing through Mount Carbon, and he holds his promise close to his heart. He can share your pain, and you won’t have to risk getting found out. Tell him your secret. Tell all of it…”

Letho eventually stopped talking, and Roy, who was behind Letho, held his breath, staring at the dwarf unblinkingly. Benson was gritting his teeth, and the pain he showed turned into a struggle. 

He was fighting against himself, but eventually, he refused. “I-I can’t say it.”

That shocked Roy. He never knew anyone who could resist Axii, and that alone told him that Benson’s sadness didn’t come from old memories. Benson’s a hundred and fifty years old, so he’s been through a lot, and his Will is six. That’s one point higher than the average human.

Since Benson was resisting, Letho went for a softer approach. “Is someone threatening you?”

Benson looked up, his face contorted, but his mouth was still sealed. If they weren’t careful, Benson might just crush all his teeth, and then Roy went up. “Is someone threatening you with your grandchildren?”

Benson’s eyes shot open, and he stared at Roy in horror. Yeah, it’s probably the spy. Letho and Roy looked at each other. Since Benson was reluctant to answer some questions, Axii wouldn’t work as well as they’d hope. However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t get any answers, since Benson’s reaction could tell them a few things.

Letho told Roy to keep on asking. “Did you bump into something by chance in the fifth mining area? Did that spy threaten you with your family? Is he working for the murderer? Were the dwarves from the fifth mining area killed because of him? Will a new victim appear tomorrow? Is it someone from the fifth mining area, or somewhere else?”

***

The answers from the dwarf shocked Letho and Roy. “What the hell is this?” Roy muttered. After the last question was asked, Letho snapped his finger to dispel Axii and escaped the scene with Roy quickly.

A few moments later, Benson snapped out of it groggily. He hugged himself and scanned his surroundings in terror. I seem to have forgotten something, but what? “Creepy.” He shivered. “Bless me, holy Mahakams. May I and my family get through this in peace.”