Ivan canted his head as Dureau seemed royally derailed by the Spaghetti Western accent that Jack displayed. He brushed the back of his neck with a gloved hand as their host then went on to explain what he knew about the light: Not much.

Not that Ivan held such a thing against him. It was a mystery for a reason, after all.

"Well, I dunno if he been taken, but Lancelot be unaccounted fer." He said, of course referring to Sir Corin. Ivan crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. His eyes already wandering. Wondering to himself where would even be a good place to start shaking down civilians about the light.

"Arr... I need a drink..."

The baron smiled and nodded and all that good stuff until that last part.

"Ah. A map."

He blinked a couple times. "Living here so long, I'm not sure I even own a—"

"Sir."

The shorter (more polite) butler from the previous night stood next to him holding out a neatly folded map. (When had he even walked up?)

"And, apparently I do!" he corrected cheerfully, took the map, and handed it to Jack. The butler looked highly self-satisfied.

"How did you do that?" Dureau asked aside.

"I obtained one this morning on my errands, sir. Surely you didn't expect them to know their way around intuitively."

Dureau shrugged with a conceding expression, as if to say it hadn't really occurred to me, oops, and turned back to the others.

"Anyway—good luck to you all, and please, do return any time. I have a lead or two of my own I intend to check; hopefully we'll have some information to share with one another this evening."

The butler suddenly chimed in: "Also, I marked the locations of the workplaces of the people I overheard you talking about."

"You're insufferably helpful at times, Luc."

"Thank you, sir."

Ivan, having been stuck in town for at least a few days to a week, if not longer, had a pretty good feel for the quaint little town. And luckily enough, he hadn't been kicked out of all the taverns and pubs yet.

"I'll be checkin' out the local tavern fer leads." He said all too voluntarily and waved to the others before making his exit.

If it were any consolation, he actually did plan on investigating the disappearances, but there was no reason why he couldn't have a drink or two while doing so, was there? And bartenders were an almost too convenient source for current events, most of the time.

Once the group got underway, they'd find that they were in for a much more pleasant outing than the previous day. The thin blanket of snow had mostly melted, revealing grass that was actually still a little greenish. Everything was damp and dewy, and there were some clouds, but it was all in all a cool (but not freezing), sunny day.

(For once, maybe it wasn't so bad for Mako in particular. He hadn't been dropped in a desert and there was actually moisture in the air! Go figure.)

The walk down the hill to the small village was unhindered. Things didn't seem all that busy; a car came and went once in a while, puttering off toward town, or back in from town—pretty much the only directions worth traveling—but otherwise, it was quiet. Specifically, it was the kind of quiet that felt almost haunting. Despite the bright weather and charming scenery, the people all looked gloomy and uneasy, and no one seemed to talk a whole lot. And, in some of the more confined passages and alleys between those tall, skinny buildings, it'd be easy for one to feel like he or she was being followed.

The first, closest place marked on their map especially felt like this: the butcher shop.

It was a simple single-story building on the south side of town, built of some sort of pale brick, with a plain shingled roof, steep-angled like all the others in town. Its rear was crowded by some thick woods, and it was surrounded by unkempt bushes, and high grass that swished and swayed noisily in the wind. To its left was a building of unknown purpose, windowless (perhaps a barn or storage shed); to its right, a narrow three-story house, casting a shadow over it. (Its lawn was also also in a similar state.)

The heavy, wooden front door had an unlit lantern hanging over it. The door itself, like most in this town, looked like it could have been run into a couple times by a tank (or a guy named Tank, as it were). However, it was only equipped with a dreadfully old-fashioned skeleton-key-style lock, easily compromised.

... That was assuming they actually wanted to go inside of a abandoned butcher shop, where the small windows gaped with inky darkness, and useless reflections of the outside light, while the overgrown back lot seemed to perpetually rustle in the wind as if things were moving through it.

Meanwhile...

Ivan was chasing his own leads, or rather potiential leads at the local tavern. It was a quaint little inn and eatery. Upon entering the roughly 4 story building, he was presented with the choice of two ways to go. To his left, the restaurant and bar. To his right, check-in lobby for the inn.

Seeing as there were no vacancies in town, the check-in area was of no consequence to him. Peering into the bar, whose doors were opened, which seemed to say they were welcoming business.

Strangely, the place seemed devoid of activity as he made his way inside. Could be that it was just dead at this hour, but it seemed odd that they weren't even serving breakfast.

"Hello?" He called as he strolled inquisitively through the doorway.