Chapter 130: Secret Investigation: The Hands

The next few days were spent in careful observation.

Ruchir and Garret, who had decided to join him in the investigation, took turns shadowing various nobles and merchants who had ties to Lila's household.

They moved like phantoms through the city, always staying out of sight, always listening.

One evening, as they tailed a rotund merchant who had been spotted near the warehouse, Garret whispered, "This guy's been acting shady for days. You think he's our man?"

Ruchir shook his head slightly. "He's involved, but he's not the mastermind. He's too careless, too obvious. Whoever is behind this is smarter, more subtle."

They followed the merchant to a secluded alley, where he met with a cloaked figure. The two exchanged a few hushed words, then handed over a small, intricately carved box.

Ruchir's eyes narrowed as he recognized the symbol engraved on it—one of the symbols from the texts he had studied in the library.

"Did you see that?" Garret murmured, his tone uneasy.

"Yes," Ruchir replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to find out what's in that box."

The two watched as the merchant and the cloaked figure parted ways. As soon as they were alone, Ruchir motioned for Garret to follow him.

They trailed the cloaked figure, who moved swiftly through the dark streets, eventually leading them to the very warehouse that Old Man Zhang had mentioned.

Ruchir's heart raced as he realized they were getting closer to uncovering the cult's secrets. But as they approached the warehouse, a sense of foreboding washed over him.

This place reeked of danger, and Ruchir knew that whatever lay inside was far more sinister than he had anticipated.

"Ready?" Garret asked, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Ruchir nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. "Let's see what they're hiding."

With that, they slipped into the shadows, preparing to uncover the dark secrets of the capital.

Ruchir and Garret slipped silently into the warehouse, their steps light as they navigated through the dimly lit interior.

The air was thick with the scent of mold and damp wood, the eerie silence broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards.

As they moved deeper into the warehouse, the faint glow of lanterns revealed several cloaked figures huddled around a large table, their voices low and conspiratorial.

"This is it," Ruchir whispered, gripping the hilt of his sword. "We need to act quickly."

Garret nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare seriousness. "Let's get them before they notice we're here."

Without another word, they launched their ambush. Ruchir moved swiftly, his sword flashing in the dim light as he disarmed the nearest cultist.

Garret, despite his tendency for clumsiness, managed to tackle another cultist to the ground with a grunt, pinning him down with surprising strength.

The cultists, caught off guard, scrambled to defend themselves, but Ruchir and Garret had the advantage. Within minutes, they had subdued the group, binding their hands with rope and ensuring they couldn't escape.

Garret stood over one of the bound cultists, panting slightly from the exertion. "Well, that wasn't so hard," he said, grinning down at the man who was glaring up at him.

"You lot didn't even put up much of a fight. I was expecting something more... dramatic."

Ruchir smirked, sheathing his sword. "Let's see what they were up to."

They began searching the warehouse, carefully rifling through the cultists' belongings. Ruchir's eyes narrowed as he came across a worn leather packet hidden under a stack of papers.

He pulled it out, noting the faded edges and the strange symbol etched into the leather.

Opening it, he found a map, yellowed with age and marked with several locations across the capital. Some of the locations were crossed out, while others had been circled in red ink.

"What do you make of this?" Ruchir asked, showing the map to Garret.

Garret squinted at the map, then shrugged. "Looks like someone's been playing a very intense game of hide and seek. Maybe those crossed-out spots are places they've already hit?"

"Or destroyed," Ruchir added grimly, folding the map and tucking it into his tunic. "We need to find out what these other locations mean."

As they continued their search, Ruchir's thoughts turned to someone who might be able to help.

Lieutenant Yol, a retired officer with a deep knowledge of ancient symbols and forgotten cults.

If anyone could decode the strange markings and the map, it was him.

"We should visit Lieutenant Yol," Ruchir said, standing up. "He might be able to tell us more about this cult and their operations."

Garret groaned. "Oh great, the old grump. He always used to make us do extra drills whenever we asked him too many questions."

"Maybe if you didn't ask so many stupid questions, he wouldn't have," Ruchir teased, nudging Garret with his elbow.

"Hey, I only asked about... fifteen or twenty things. And they were all very important!" Garret protested, puffing out his chest.

Ruchir chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on, let's get these cultists back to the station. Then we'll pay Yol a visit."

___

Later, in Lieutenant Yol's cluttered study, the old man squinted at the map and the symbols that Ruchir had brought to him.

His gray hair was wild and unkempt, and his spectacles perched precariously on the edge of his nose.

"These markings... they're familiar," Yol muttered, tracing one of the symbols with a gnarled finger.

"They belong to a cult that was thought to have died out centuries ago. Known for summoning powerful spirits and bending them to their will."

"So, these guys are trying to bring that cult back?" Garret asked, his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to follow along.

"Seems like it," Yol replied, peering over his spectacles at Garret. "Which means you two have stumbled upon something far more dangerous than you realize."

Garret gulped. "Great. Just what I needed—more danger in my life."

Ruchir ignored Garret's muttering and leaned in closer to the map. "What can you tell us about these locations? The ones that aren't crossed out yet?"

Yol studied the map for a moment, then pointed to one of the circled spots. "This one here... it's a known hotspot for supernatural activity."

"Yin aura seems to be concentrated here....umph"

"An old mansion, abandoned for decades. Rumor has it, dark rituals were performed there long before the capital was built."

"Sounds like a lovely place to visit," Garret said sarcastically. "Maybe we can bring a picnic."

Yol shot him a withering look. "If you're not careful, boy, you'll end up as part of the ritual."

Garret paled. "Uh, maybe I'll pass on the picnic, then."

___

Back at the station, Ruchir and Garret stood before the captured cultists, who were still bound and looking none too pleased with their situation. Ruchir decided to take a more serious approach to interrogation, but Garret had other ideas.

"Alright, listen up!" Garret barked, trying to sound intimidating. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. And trust me, you don't want to know what the hard way is!"

One of the cultists sneered. "You don't scare me, you oaf."

Garret grinned mischievously. "Oh, you don't think I'm scary, huh? Well, I've got a secret weapon... Robert!"

Robert, who had been standing quietly in the corner, looked up in surprise. "Uh, me?"

"Yes, you!" Garret said, grabbing Robert by the arm and dragging him forward. "You're going to show these guys what happens when they don't cooperate!"

Robert blinked, clearly confused. "I am?"

"Yep!" Garret leaned in and whispered loudly, "Just go with it."

Robert, still unsure of what Garret was planning, decided to play along. He scowled at the cultists, puffing up his chest. "You better start talking, or... or else!"

The cultists exchanged confused glances. "Or else what?"

Garret leaned in close, his voice low and menacing. "Or else Robert will start reciting poetry. Really bad poetry."

Robert's eyes widened. "Wait, what? I don't even know any poetry!"

"That's the point!" Garret said, trying to suppress a laugh. "It'll be so awful, they'll be begging us to stop."

The cultists stared at Robert, who looked like he was about to panic. "Uh... roses are red, violets are blue, um... if you don't talk, we'll... we'll... I don't know what we'll do!"

Garret burst out laughing, slapping his knee. "See? It's already working!"

One of the cultists groaned. "Just stop, please. I'll tell you what you want to know, just don't make him recite any more poetry."

Ruchir, who had been watching the entire exchange with a bemused expression, decided it was time to step in. "Tell us about the cult. Who's in charge? What's your objective?"

The cultist who had spoken earlier hesitated, then sighed in defeat. "We're led by a figure known as 'The Hands.' He's the one who performs the rituals, who makes contact with the spirits and demons. "

"He's been planning something big, something that involves the highest levels of power in the capital."

Ruchir's eyes narrowed. "And where can we find him?"

"I don't know," the cultist admitted. "He never reveals his true location to us. But I do know that the next ritual is happening soon, at one of the locations marked on that map."

Ruchir nodded, his mind racing. "Thank you. We'll make sure this information is put to good use."

As they left the interrogation room, Garret grinned at Robert. "See? I told you your poetry would work."

Robert shook his head, still bewildered. "I didn't even know I was supposed to be bad at it!"

Ruchir chuckled, patting Robert on the back. "You did well, both of you. Now, let's figure out our next move."