In the Red Tower of Power...
Niklas, knowing a good plan when he sees one, follows his trusty sidekick Lifeboy toward the nearest excretion facility, since one can expect to find many important things in the head. Like the medulla oblongata, for instance. So he rushes off to find the throne room, and arrives rather shortly - a mage is always sure to have a bathroom nearby, as one never knows what could happen in the wild world of magic.
Inside, Niklas and Lifeboy both are greeted by a place of superb cleanliness! Porcelain floors, porcelain walls, porcelain ceilings, porcelain thrones, porcelain washbasins with running water! All of which appears to clean itself every few moments or so to attain that special sparkle. Frankly, Niklas hasn't ever seen a more pristine, sacred place in his entire life, and he's been to at least one primordial grove that he knows of. And it even smells completely inoffensively - in fact, it doesn't smell like anything at all, which is essentially the perfect state of affairs one could wish from a bathroom.
It appears to be completely unoccupied, though. But Niklas has faith - no matter where one's path may take them, one needs to visit the restroom eventually. So, if he were the type to play the long game, he could simply wait for Fat Candace to come over here rather than seek her out in any other facility, excretory or otherwise.
"Drat! Maybe she's in one of the other chambers?" Lifeboy wonders.
In the dark depths of an excavation...
Sigmund, unwilling to disturb whatever miners may dwell within here, knowing people of said trade to be a skittish lot in the best of circumstances and downright surly when cornered, decides to ascend, and Art appears to agree with this course of action, or at least follows the vampire up, leaving Kevin downstairs to try and repair whatever relations may have been damaged by these objectively terrible attempts at diplomacy he's been throwing at the dark.
As the other two disappear up the stairs, Kevin becomes aware of something - repeating clacks, slowly drawing closer, accompanied by an intermittent click or two and a low, continuous warble coming from what seems like close by.
Sigmund, meanwhile, attempts to find civilization along with Art - they are remarkably successful in this endeavor, since, as they come near the top, they notice an individual standing over the stairwell - a tall, nearly skeletal man with a completely shaven head and face, eyebrows and all. He seems to have a peg leg, and also a slightly tattered bright red robe. Both of his eyes are glowing quite brightly, and his teeth, currently bared in a grin, have visible, regular gaps between them.
"Hullo. Might I inquire as to what yer doing in my hole?" he asks, tilting his head and leaning in. "Prospecting, mayhap?"
In the dining room of Castle Melville...
Scott, hearing of the dark deeds of the Black Circle, has a bright idea.
"I vote we go to Eckledun and capture some of these fiends and use them for the Gub's purposes."
"A more deserving target than most, I admit," Justine says. "We could provide them with a taste of their own medicine, perhaps."
Tailor Craig says nothing, and merely looks slightly concerned.
Morton, meanwhile, seems to experience an exponential rise in questions he still has. First, he begins wondering about the demon cryptically.
"Could it perhaps be good group Gub's? A vague memory of before his genuine mental awakening? Or... perhaps the demon was cast out after the event? During, maybe? I'm afraid there is unfortunately quite little to go off of at the moment. Something quite peculiar has happened however, that I can most certainly seem," he ponders aloud, but Justine doesn't reply, so he just moves on to the next subject. "Good sir Scott may be in the right, perhaps it would be wise to speak to the source and see their perspective on it? I fear we wouldn't elicit a helpful response if they were the perpetrators, but perhaps this was an event with affiliates of the Black Circle, but not sanctioned? A... splinter group of sorts?" he wonders dramatically.
"There are no real splinter groups in the Black Circle of Magic," Lady Melville says. "Most of them do act more or less independently of each other or their masters, however, so what you propose is indeed possible. Then again, they are invariably an amoral lot, so getting them to care enough to interrupt their own business would prove difficult, I assume."
Pausing a moment to process this information, Morton has the thought that perhaps there is more business to attend to.
"Good lady Melville, I thank you for your hospitality although I apologize for the news we've brought. If you would indulge us for one favor? Do you perhaps have a map of the local region? I fear we may know little of the surrounding regions in as fine detail as a proper map."
"Of course, good sir. I have a great many maps in my possession - to part with one or two would be no issue at all," she says, turning to an empty patch of air near her and whispering to it. The air shimmers, then subsides. A few moments later, a small cube appears in Lady Melville's hands, and she places it on Morton's surface. "Here you are - an extending map. Slightly old, but it should work after a good rub. You may have it - I have quite a lot like it, and I feel I should compensate you somehow for all this information you've brought to my attention," she says.