Beneath the barrels lay a stack of documents. Eric carefully pulled them out, spreading them across the floor. "Supply orders," he noted, examining the dates.

 

"This one's from last month, and this is from this month."

​

"Look at the quantities," Matilda said, pointing at the figures. Her eyes widened.

 

"Last month, ten barrels. This month, one hundred barrels. That's ten times the amount."

​

Tim's helmet tilted thoughtfully. "That's a lot of volatile explosive material for a tavern that's supposedly just making cocktails."

​

"The town hall collapse," Matilda said slowly, pieces clicking into place. "maybe this is what brought it crashing down from Tightee Town into the Mightee side of the Capicombital. What if the voltamo was used for that?"

​

"It would make sense," Eric added, his voice gaining confidence. "Voltamo is unstable enough, and if you had that much of it..."

​

Socrates suddenly squeaked urgently, tapping his tiny claw against one of the invoices. The group leaned in closer.

​

At the bottom of the supply order, clearly printed, was the name of the invoicee: T'Flork the Orc, Owner of the Spedrunker and Member of Baron Von Klaspen's Legal Team.

​​

"T'Flork," Tim breathed. "The owner is on Klaspen's legal team?"

"And he ordered enough voltamo to bring down a building," Matilda said grimly.

The door suddenly burst open. The carapaced bouncer stood in the doorway, his earlier jazz-induced mellowness completely evaporated. His expression was one of pure fury.

​​

"OUT!" he bellowed. "NOW!"

​​

Before anyone could protest, the bouncer grabbed them one by one and physically hurled them through the office door, across the lounge (where Rocky and the Cave Dwellers were now on a break), and straight out through the saloon doors into the main bar.

​

The troupe landed in an unceremonious heap on the stone floor of the Spedrunker. Patrons glanced over briefly before returning to their drinks. The Troll Patrol looked up from their corner table with expressions that seemed to say, "Been there."

​

Tim was the first to stand, dusting off their armour with as much dignity as they could muster. Matilda picked herself up next, straightening her clothes and retrieving the documents she'd managed to keep clutched in her hand. Eric slowly got to his feet, checking to make sure nothing was broken.

​

Socrates poked his head out from Tim's helmet, chittering what sounded distinctly like a complaint.

​

"Well," Tim said, adjusting their helmet, "at least we got what we came for."

​

"Von Klaspen, the voltamo, and T'Flork," Matilda said, looking at the papers. "despite all we already knew, this is bigger than we thought."

​

"So what do we do now?" Eric asked nervously.

​

Tim reached into their armour and pulled out the fancy pen they'd found in Gregory's briefcase. The words "Vacation Excavation Resort" were embossed in gold along its side.

 

"Now? We follow the next clue. Gregory was onto something, and this pen suggests he went to the Vacation Excavation resort."

​

"A resort?" Eric perked up slightly. "That sounds... nicer than a tavern full of angry bouncers."

​

"Don't get too comfortable," Matilda warned, tucking the documents safely away. "If Gregory's trail led there, it's not going to be a relaxing holiday."

​

Tim looked towards the exit. "Either way, we need to get out of here before that bouncer decides throwing us out once wasn't enough."

​

And with that, the troupe made their way towards the door, leaving the Spedrunker behind them with considerably more questions answered, and considerably more danger ahead. The Vacation Excavation resort awaited, and with it, hopefully, more answers about what had transpired in the framing of Gregory Schreck.