If you're solving a mystery, the barbershop is reliable
TW: talk of death + depression
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Grian glanced up at the clock tower towering above the barber shop on the other side of town. Like the rest of the city, the section had been fully developed by the hermit who had claimed it. He smiled, remembering the competition for land when he'd first arrived. It was the same in both the residential and shopping districts, with unique builds, products, and people in each.
Seconds later, his midnight thoughts returned. As far as he knew, the only major conflict was when Keralis and Beef were outlining where their shops would be. The butcher had ended up winning the competition, and there seemed to be no hard feelings between the two parties.
Of course, a game of UNO can change that.
He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his eyes. The day was hotter than usual, causing sweat to run down his forehead. He frowned, running back to his house. He unlocked the door, shutting it behind him as he flicked the switches Mumbo had set up.
A blast of cool air ran through the house, a result of being chilled in the ice room for so long. He sighed, trudging upstairs to shower and change to a more lightweight shirt.
The bed beckoned to him invitingly with its soft covers and pillows. He shook his head again, knocking himself back into the waking world. I can sleep when it's over.
He stumbled down the stairs, pushing his slightly damp hair out of his eye. He opened the door, wincing as the sun hit his eyes.
"Hey, G, you doing alright there?" Mumbo waved from the pathway, striding up the path to pat him on the back.
"Yeah, I'm good, Mumbo," he replied sheepishly. "Haven't been sleeping well."
Mumbo nodded. "I get that. What have you been up to? I haven't talked to you since the meeting yesterday."
Grian related the events of the previous afternoon, bringing the news of Etho and Iskall's deaths, how he and Pearl knew each other, and the disturbing midnight slaughter and abduction. Mumbo listened as he spoke, taking in the details silently. His serious expression faltered for a second before he forced it to return to neutral.
"I see," he whispered when the tale was done. "Does Stress know? She and Iskall were pretty close."
"I assume she does," Grian replied. "False likely learned the news from Xisuma after our meeting. She's close with Stress, so it might have been passed along."
"I should go check on her, then. Will you go with me?"
Grian shook his head again. "I kind of need a haircut. I'll meet with you at the infirmary?" He brushed the hair out of his eyes again.
Mumbo's gaze met his. "If I know you -- and I like to think I do -- this isn't a simple barbershop visit."
Grian grinned. "Just a hunch, my dear friend. Just a hunch."
"Sure, man, sure."
"I've got some papers to hand to Xisuma. Can you do that if you see him?" Grian handed the sheets to the redstoner, the scrambled and hasty writing barely decipherable in the sunlight.
"Absolutely," Mumbo replied, folding the paper and putting it into the pocket of his suit jacket.
"You aren't hot?"
"Only a little. I prefer presentation over function, though."
Grian stopped. "Why?"
"Well, this spoon has to have some desirable qualities for the ladies, right?"
"Oh come on, Mumbo!" Grian punched his shoulder. "You can't be worried about impressing people in situations like this."
"Maybe I'm hoping whoever's behind this will spare me because of my devilish good looks?" he tried. "If I'm being honest, Grian, I'd rather die looking my best, if that makes sense."
"Oh, stop that. We're not going to die. I'll make sure of it." With that, the red sweatered hermit ran off. Mumbo shook his head worriedly as his friend disappeared around the street corner. He was beginning to think that nowhere was safe.
-=-=-=-=-
Grian paused for breath outside the barbershop, his hair already drenched in sweat from his short run. He watched the rotating barber pole, its alternating blue and yellow stripes the only sign of life on the street. He grinned wryly. Either the hermits had some form of sense and were staying inside to avoid the heat, or they were buried deep in collaborations to avoid untimely death.
Given the circumstances, probably the latter.
He pushed the wooden doors open, the hinges creaking as he quickly shut it behind him to trap the cool air inside. Bdubs and Impulse looked up from the interior, the dwarf examining his fresh haircut in the mirror while the barber cleaned up around him.
Grian frowned, pulling out the clump of hair he'd tied together and thrust in his pocket before leaving the castle. The dark brown was similar to Impulse's hair. He shoved the strands back into his jeans, dismissing the thought. The broken pottery and mirror from before were indubitably higher than the dwarf could reach, especially since he was (give or take) half the height of most of the hermits.
"Hey Grian!" Bdubs greeted, light-heartedly shoving Impulse off the chair. The dwarf shook his head, fingering his battle ax as he slid it into the sheathe hanging across his back. He handed Bdubs a couple diamonds for his services, brushing past Grian on his way out.
"Thanks, Bdubs!" he called over his shoulder.
"Where are you off to?" Grian asked. "I might try to join you. Just to stay safe, you know."
"I'm gonna hang out with Scar and Cleo. We're trying to install redstone lights for the garden at night."
"Alright," Grian said as the dwarf waved and hustled out of sight. He turned back to the smiling builder standing in the center of his shop. "A good day for you, isn't it?" He sat in the chair as Bdubs set to work.
"Yeah, business is booming today. How do you want this cut?"
"Just the usual. Preserve the waffle."
"Got it." Bdubs put the smock around Grian's neck, securing it so no hair slipped down his shirt.
"Who's been in today so far?" the brit asked, watching the work in the mirror.
"Keralis was here this morning. I think he's been pulling his hair out from the stress."
"Interesting..." Grian trailed off, remembering the hair in his pocket. No, he thought. Keralis is always so sweet. He runs the bakery, after all.
Then again... Evidence tends to point his way.
"Wels came in after a bit, too. He looked really depressed and mumbled something about False not wanting him to cut his hair with a steak knife anymore." Grian grunted, swiveling his eyes as Bdubs spun the chair. Beef created 'Hels' with the clone machine, right? I never got the full story about that, did I.
Wels has also been the one bringing the news to the city.
But he's also the defender of the city. He should be protecting us. That's what his knight's code says, right?
I'm probably overthinking this.
Grian snapped out of his reverie, realizing he'd missed Bdubs' whole story about Impulse's visit. The barber dusted him off, removing the smock and brushing him off the seat. The Brit handed him a few diamonds, which Bdubs promptly rejected.
"You saved my life back there, G," he said solemnly. "I owe you this one, and more."
"It's what anyone would do," Grian replied, touched by his generosity.
"Not just anyone," Bdubs muttered, raising a hand to rub the prevalent stitches. "I'm closing the shop for the day. Need to stay with someone, and it doesn't look like anyone else will show up."
Grian nodded, stepping outside with him. The barber locked his shop and turned off the sign, stepping out into the street with the detective. "How's the clue-work and guessing going?" he asked as they neared the keep.
"It's hard," Grian admitted. "There's a lot to keep track of."
The duo fell into silence as they traversed the silent city. The peace was broken by a prominent thud as someone fell off the ladder in the garden. Cries of worry broke out, followed by Cleo's signature "IF YOU DIE, I'LL BREAK YOUR LEGS AND KILL YOU AGAIN." The commotion calmed as the duo entered the garden.
Scar was on the ground, rubbing his head from when he'd tumbled in the grass. One leg was stretched out at an awkward angle underneath the ladder that had been leaning against the lamp next to the path. Impulse was hanging from the post, his ground support suddenly missing.
Grian stepped in, removing the ladder so the dwarf could drop safely. He did so, brushing redstone dust off the front of his shirt. He took the ladder from Grian, folding it and handing it to Cleo to put back in the shed. Bdubs helped Scar up, supporting him so he didn't put weight on his injured leg.
"Of all the things I thought would happen today, falling off a ladder was not one of them," Scar jokes, smiling through the pain.
Cleo returned a scowl plastered over the laughter bubbling inside. "I told you not to climb the ladder while Impulse was on it."
Impulse laughed, anxiously rubbing his neck. "Honestly, nothing happens the way you expect it to, right?"
The joking moment was broken by Mumbo screaming something unintelligible and running across the garden. Somehow, he made it most of the way to the group, tripping mere seconds before he arrived. Grian pulled him off the ground as he fought to get his breath back.
"Grian, Stress just died, and now Xisuma is out to get me. You gotta help me, man." The mustached man somehow managed to get it out in one breath, bending over and hyperventilating even more.
"Grian, Mumbo," Xisuma called to them from across the garden. "I need you over here now, please," he added.
Impulse grabbed Grian's hand as he started walking. "We'll come with you, Grian. A bit of back-up won't hurt."
Scar laughed, taking a small step forward with Bdubs. "We need to get over there, too. I kind of need to fix this leg situation."
"It's six of us against one of him," Cleo piped up. Grian gave her the look. "Hey, I'm not assuming anything. Better safe than sorry, I think."
"That's fair."