As you stop at a corner, discussing your next step, Alcie Kruptin, your host at The Witch's End approaches your group.
"I bin ponderin' yon questions an' I had a wee gander in Morvinnar's room: He lodges over t' stables. Anyhoo, watcha reckon ta this!"
The woman proffers a scrap of parchment.
She scratches her knuckles, "I've no ken, y'hear? There's no name."
The innkeeper shrugs, "Naw, bad habit is all."
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Carson looks around and "We know that they have been taken but we have no clue as to where they are. We need to check on the last names on this list and see what we can find out."
He turns to Alcie and hands her the list of missing apprentices. "Was there anyone else who hung out with this group that might be able to help us. Someone who would know where the usual place was and may have known what was going on?"
Alcie shrugs, "Y'can keep it."
Then she looks blankly at Carson, "That group? I din ken every title among 'em but they be..." She goes on to name and describe all of the people on the list.
"That's about the size of it, I reckon." Her voice becomes quiet, "Look, y'hear, That lad's a good 'un. Don't be tellin' 'im nowt be 'e is all the same. If he be in a pickle an' you got the trim t' pull 'im out then I'll be in debt to you."
She then makes her excuses and sets to leave.
Gunty's Hearty Breads is all bustle: customers discuss large orders for caravans while bakers and apprentices shift loaves, fuel ovens and knead dough.
In the yard, two bakers are struggling with a cart with broken wheels and a queue has begun to clog the street.
At the heart of the furnace a tall, thick-armed man bawls out an apprentice, "You call that bread? I can't sell that, I'd lose all my customers in a week if'n word got around. If a soldier of mine had treated his kit like you treat that dough, he'd better hope the goblins got him afore I did!"
As the apprentice scurries away, he eyes you and limps forward with an awkward gait, "Welcome to Gunty's Hearty Breads: the heartiest damn breads this side o’ the river." He looks you up and down, "You fellas provisioning for a caravan?"
The bakers nod gratefully at Grel's offer of help and re-organise as suggested. Then they ready for his signal.
The big man speaks up again, "Well, what'll it be?"
Gunty laughs at Grel's effort, "What's a matter? I thought dwarves were tough!"
Then he turns to Harada, "You've got missing apprentices too eh? Well, I've only got one missing: she's just playing hooky 'cause she can't hack the hard work."
"Now slow down with all the questions and tell me who in all the hells you are, or this ok' soldier'll clam up like a clam in a chastity belt."
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Carson steps forward and presents the letter from the mayor and the list of missing persons to Gunty.
"We are looking for any information you might have on Naomi and the others on this list. The mayor would like us to find them as soon as possible. We believe they may be in danger. The mayor would like this kept quiet while we are looking for them for the safety of everyone involved."
Harada shifts the cart almost single-handedly.
The baker seems unimpressed by your dropping of the mayor's name but is very happy to see Harada in action. He slaps the big man on the back and roars his appreciation, "Whaor! That's some muscle there laddee."
Grinning, he gives your group more attention, "Noemi, eh? She's had her head in the clouds las' couple o' days. When her monnin' cost us a batch o' loaves I gave her ears a cleanout. I figured she was on the big sulk. Might'n be diff'rent. Might'n be: she's not that sort. Honestly, I thought them lights in the orchard over yonder were her coveys plannin' some kinda prank t'avenge her."
He shrugs, "Last couple o' days, every evenin' when things are quiet like. Might be something in that, fellas... hey, if'n she been in trouble, let me know: I done docked her wages for not showin'. Won't if'n she ain't ta blame."
Gunty grins at Harada, "You wear the burnin' blade? You shoulda."
Gunty laughs heartily, "Aye, when you've got it, you should know it."
"I think you may be right about those lights .What kind were they, fire or magic?" asks Verathis.
Gunty shrugs, "Dunno much about magic. Don't trust it.
His eyes narrow, "Ain't no demon summoning goon' on here? There better not be." His hands unconsciously begin curling into fists.
As you approach Petrello's Haberdashery, the sun begins its first signs of waning and your bellies rumble a little: adventuring is hungry work.
Pushing open the door beneath the sign (a curling image of a hat, superimposed with a needle and thread), the workshop is, quite frankly, a mess. Piles of half-formed hats lie across tables, chairs and cabinets while a slender, handsome man fiddles with an embroidered flower.
He looks up sharply as you enter, "Yes?"
He scowls up at you, "Well, if you find her, let me know. And tell her that her father is not best pleased."
After a moment, the man sighs, "Apologies: you're not responsible for wayward children."
He puts down his tools, "What has she done now?"
The man rolls his eyes, "Let me guess: that flibertigibbert, Gellion, has them all running around after some fool's errand? She's been away for a couple of days. Too woolly-headed she is, too much of a follower. Too soft."
He snorts, "Normally, I just bang on the table and shout that supper's on the table. She loves here, above the shop, and she's not daft enough to go wandering in the woods with stray goblins and whatnot."
After staring blankly out of the window for a second, he seems more thoughtful, I suppose she could have taken off down the river, or joined a caravan... hard t' picture though."
Petrellano blanches, "In danger? Sincerely? What is going on?"
He stamps his foot, "“It’s that apothecary boy’s fault. He’s a bad influence, that one!”
He shakes his head, "I told her to steer clear of that useless lot. Bound to end in tears. But does she listen to me? She's as bad as her mother sometimes! She'd sneak of sometimes, meeting with that sorry bunch in the graveyard or the orchard, quiet places but not really anyone's property, y'see."
A huff escapes from him, "Kids today, honestly. You can tell 'em till you're blue int he face, but will they listen?"