This story is my first in the Tiger and Bunny fandom. It is a gift for Fairyprncss5678. I'm glad we were not-so-subtly given a pairing for me to write for you. It was wonderful and I simply can't get enough of Kotetsu Kaburagi. PLEASE NOTE: Fire Emblem identifies as a non-binary. So instead of using him or her, I use they, their. It is not plural, but instead the proper pronoun used for many non-binary/genderqueer/genderfluid persons.
"Come out! We know you're here!" One of the sheriff's men hollered. He peered into the thick woods suspiciously. "Come out or we'll kill every single man, woman and child in this forest!" The officer gestured to his associates, telling them to spread out.
Up above, in the trees, a man wiped at the sweat on his brow, readjusting his partial face mask. "Oh, Tomoe," he whispered, closing his amber eyes with a sigh. His fingertips gripped the rough bark of the tree and he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry…" His mouth quivered slightly before he opened his eyes, dropping down to the forest floor with natural ease.
"You finally show yourself?" the sheriff's man taunted, looking around at his comrades with a smile. "Draw your sword and die like a man, Little Tiger…" The officer brandished his sword, extending his arms in presentation.
"Little Tiger?" The amber eyed man sighed, rubbing the back of his head in defeat. "It's Wild Tiger…" He smiled sheepishly, shrugging, "Do people really call me Little Tiger?"
"You should be drawing your sword." The officer spat.
"I haven't even got a sword." The amber eyed man insisted, he raised his hands and grinned apologetically.
"Some rebel you are…" the sheriff's man clicked his tongue in irritation. He nodded toward the bowman behind him before climbing back onto his horse. "Remove his mask and kill him."
"Aye, Sir."
Wild Tiger took a sharp intake of breath, his amber eyes flashing, and reflecting blue. He dodged the arrow and lunged forward, kicking and striking the bowman's leg out from under him. A second bowman released an arrow, the tip searing through Tiger's shirt. "Too close."
"This is ridiculous! Kill him." The officer demanded, hopping off his horse with a scowl. "He's unarmed…"
Wild Tiger groaned as the sheriff's men surrounded him. "Look, I don't want to hurt anyone…"
"You mock us openly?" the officer growled, unsheathing his sword. "I will enjoy you tasting the end of my sword, Little Tiger."
Wild Tiger moved reflexively, his movements efficient and overwhelming. He had immobilized all of the sheriff's men within a minute, except one. The officer struck Wild Tiger in the side, his sword piercing through Tiger, just above the hip. Wild Tiger groaned, biting down on his lip. He gripped the sword in both hands and stepped forward, walking off the end of the sword.
Wild Tiger turned, the bloodied sword falling between the two men. "It's time to let out a wild roar," Tiger said irritably before head-butting the officer at full strength. The officer spun in a small circle before collapsing to the ground, his bottom up in the air comically.
Tiger sank down onto one knee, his hand pressing to the wound. "I'm surprised you didn't bring the whole forest down, Crusher of Justice." Tiger looked up at the larger man approaching and shook his head, laughing softly.
"Antonio, shut up and help me up." Tiger grimaced as the man hoisted him to his feet.
"It's not worth this, Kotetsu," Antonio, known to everyone as Rock Bison, warned, his eyes searching Tiger's. "I fight when I need to, but you, but all this…" Rock Bison gestured to the sheriff's unconscious men. "You should focus on Kaede. Pay the tax, keep her safe, keep your head down."
"Pft!" Tiger shuffled away with a limp, hoping to distance himself as quickly as possible from the scene. "My Ma and brother can hardly afford the tax as it is… the people can't survive like this."
"The people aren't your problem, Kotetsu." Rock Bison insisted as he pushed his ruddy brown hair from his eyes. "You could go back home, ya know. Be with your daughter…"
"I…" Tiger began unsurely. "I'm not like normal men… I have… I have a responsibility."
"You have a deathwish." Rock Bison corrected sourly. "And as your friend, I am required to inform you."
"Noted." Tiger waved his hand dismissively, pausing as a rope ladder fell to the forest floor before him. He looked up and smiled, climbing the ladder with practiced ease. He didn't know how to explain it, but the wound at his hip had already healed.
"Tiger! Tiger! Wake up!" Tiger's eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep. At first he was confused, wondering why Kaede, his daughter, was suddenly there. As his thoughts connected he sat up, nearly toppling Blue Rose to the floor.
"What is it?" Tiger questioned. He stared at the teen, searching her brown eyes with concern. "Is it the sheriff?"
"No, but we need you down there…" Blue Rose insisted, her attractively round cheeks stained pink. "There's someone at the bridge, refusing to pay the toll."
"Huh?" Tiger complained, rubbing his eyes with exhaustion. "I was woken up for that? Just let the others handle it…"
"Tiger!" Blue Rose pinched Tiger's arm irritably. "He took them out, Tiger!" Blue Rose gestured outside impatiently and stood. "Come on, Old man."
Tiger climbed to his feet, rubbing his stomach as it growled in protest. "Okay, okay, I'm coming… and I'm not old… I'm just…mature."
"Hardly, old man." Blue Rose teased, tucking her light brown hair behind her ear. "Go on, Rock Bison is ahead of you."
Wild Tiger walked quickly, the bridge swinging back and forth from the movement. He dropped onto the rope ladder and slid down, ignoring the burning of his palms. He brushed his hands on his pants and jogged toward the bridge. He approached cautiously, a sudden jerk of curiosity prickling in his abdomen. He hid himself behind a tree, peering into the darkness unsurely.
There was a shout and with an enormous, thunderous crash Rock Bison was sent flying through the air, leveling several trees in his path. "Anton- Rock Bison!" Tiger ran forward and then paused, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Antonio had the strength of an animal, for someone to take him down was nearly impossible. Several people swarmed Antonio, administering aid.
Tiger continued toward the bridge, casting one last glance at Antonio's prone form. He came to a stop at the bridge, his worn boots still on the leaf strewn ground. "There's a toll to cross this bridge, stranger." Tiger adjusted his mask and looked up at the other with a grin. "Pay it or find another way."
"I've already told several of your mates," the other man began impatiently. His green eyes met Tiger's and he smirked smugly. Tiger could tell that this stranger was a thinker and it made him inexplicably uncomfortable. "I live just on the other side of this forest, in Sternbild. There is no way I am paying a toll to return to my own home." The stranger narrowed his eyes. "For your information, I own this forest."
"Nonsense." Tiger exclaimed, looking around at his companions in surprise. "We've lived here for years."
"Yes, I have heard," The stranger answered coolly. "I was informed that thieves and other such unsavory lot moved into my lands while I was away at war."
"War?" Tiger asked skeptically, eyeing the young man. He was handsome and refined, no more than twenty-three years of age, with flaxen hair and green eyes. He hardly had the appearance of a man ravaged by the blood of the crusades.
"Yes," the man replied shortly. "My name is Barnaby Brooks, Jr. I served four years under King Richard I." Barnaby took a step forward, waving his arm in a dismissive gesture. "Now clear the way."
"Bunny?" Tiger arched his brow in surprise.
"Barnaby! Barnaby! Not Bunny!" Barnaby snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are even dumber than you look."
"We're not thieves…" Tiger replied, shaking his head.
"What?" Barnaby asked.
"You called us thieves and an unsavory lot." Tiger explained, irked. "We are no such thing. We are heroes."
"Heroes?" Barnaby laughed. The sound itself ground Tiger's last nerve. "Then show me. If you can defeat me, I will pay the toll and go on my way. If I win, you get out of my forest… all of you…"
"Fine." Tiger muttered, rolling his shoulders backward and cracking his neck loudly. Tiger balled his hands into fists and lowered himself into a slight squat. "Hand to hand, no weapons."
"Don't hurt yourself, old man," Barnaby ribbed Tiger, his green eyes watching the older man critically. Barnaby fell silent as a rowdy crowd began to assemble around them, his whole attention on Tiger.
"Tiger, don't be an idiot…" Blue Rose hissed into his ear, her hands snaking around his arm. "This guy just tossed Rock Bison like a sack of flour…"
"I won't lose." Tiger said with a wide smile. He adjusted his mask and nodded toward Barnaby. "Not against Little Bunny, here."
"My name is Barnaby." The younger man repeated heatedly. He gestured Tiger forward and with a loud THWACK! they both connected. Tiger's fist knocked Barnaby's chin, his teeth smacking together audibly. Barnaby's fist ground into Tiger's stomach, nudging painfully against the sore spot at his hip.
Tiger's eyes widened in shock as the younger man's arm caught his own, flipping him onto his back. Tiger coughed, spitting up as his back struck the hard ground. He stared up at the forest canopy, glaring as Barnaby peered down at him. "I'm not finished."
"Oh?" Barnaby smiled easily, his handsome, youthful face pulling taut. "You look pretty finished."
Tiger elbowed the back of Barnaby's leg forcefully, knocking Barnaby to the ground beside him. Barnaby's cool demeanor cracked, his eyes widening in surprise and his jaw slackening. He composed himself quickly, his eyes narrowing in distaste. Barnaby rolled onto his knees quickly, attempting to stand.
Tiger launched himself forward, tackling Barnaby back to the ground. Tiger pinned one of Barnaby's hands to his side, punching Barnaby in the stomach roughly. Barnaby's free hand delivered several sharp blows to Tiger's head. Reeling, Tiger yelped as he was rolled over onto his back.
Barnaby held Tiger down forcefully, his green eyes reflecting blue. He looked down at Tiger, long and hard, wordlessly, his thoughts whirring unspoken through his head, and then, without warning, his knee connected painfully with Tiger's groin. "Stop wasting my time, old man."
Tiger groaned, his hands instinctively reaching for his sensitive extremities despite Barnaby's hold on his arms. "That was a low blow, Bunny…" Tiger growled through gritted teeth. "I see now, you're an asshole." Barnaby shrugged unapologetically, his brow arching expressively. Tiger nodded, smiling tightly before racking his knee against Barnaby's groin in return.
Barnaby rolled to the side, landing on his back beside Tiger. They looked at each other angrily and then up at the forest canopy. Tiger inhaled deeply and shook his head, "Three minute break."
"I'm kicking your ass in two." Barnaby replied.
"You wish." Tiger retorted, the fight draining from him rapidly. He stared up at the ceiling of green leaves and admired the beautiful patches of sky peeking through. There wasn't a cloud in sight, just an array of beautiful blues and greens.
"Tiger?" Blue Rose called out in concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Tiger replied, raising his hand and giving a slight wave. "I'm winning, don't worry."
"You're hardly winning," Barnaby muttered, sitting up and brushing the leaves and dirt from his clothes. "Get up so we can finish this."
"Listen," Tiger began with a guilty smile. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. You're a pretty strong guy…"
"It's too late. As I said, I'm in a hurry." Barnaby interrupted. "I would rath-"
Barnaby's sentence trailed off as Tiger lifted his hand. It brushed across Barnaby's cheek slowly, his fingertips stroking Barnaby's hair. Barnaby cleared his throat rapidly, his eyes blinking in surprise. His round cheeks reddened and he opened his mouth to protest. Tiger simply grinned more widely, retracting his hand to present a small, thin stick. "This was in your hair."
"Oh, uh, thanks." Barnaby mumbled awkwardly. He climbed to his feet, brushing his clothes off with a sigh. Barnaby crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose in the air, "I'm crossing my bridge in my forest now." Tiger sat up, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. He looked up at Barnaby expectantly. "What?"
"You should join us." Tiger suggested. "A strong guy like you, you'd be a great hero."
"Oh, please," Barnaby said with a humorless laugh. "We're hardly on the same level… you're barely human…" Barnaby walked over to a tree, hoisting a pack onto his back. The crowd dispersed as he walked through them, unyielding and unintimidated. "Now, get off my land."
Tiger stood quickly, walking after Barnaby, "Nonsense, we're not going anywhere," Tiger said dismissively, as if the suggestion were absurd. "Look, Bunny…"
"Barnaby!" Barnaby corrected impatiently. "BAR-NA-BY!"
"My name is Wild Tiger," Tiger announced, extending his hand to shake Barnaby's. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you t-" Barnaby withdrew his hand abruptly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Look, Old Man, I don't have time for this and I don't have time for you. I just want to go home for the first time in over four years…" He looked at Tiger and sighed heavily. "I fought for so long. I'm done with heroes and villains. I wish to be left alone."
"Well you know where we are if you change your mind," Tiger called out, smiling wide as Barnaby turned around.
"So you intend to stay; even though I have asked you to leave?" Barnaby snapped. "You know, I can make you leave. Our fight is far from over…"
"Oh come on!" Tiger said with a chuckle. "You're not so heartless to uproot women and children!" Tiger's face darkened suddenly, his voice growing heavy and serious. "They'll starve in Sternbild. These people can't afford the taxes. The men will go to jail. The women will be made into slaves. The children the same or worse… it's so hard on children…"
"Stop talking." Barnaby raised his hands in gesture. "Do as you will. I don't care."
"You're a great guy, Bunny." Tiger answered, watching Barnaby's broad back as he continued through the forest.
"Is he going to let us stay?" Blue Rose asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can he be trusted? Won't he just reveal our location… the reward money is rather-"
"Shhh…" Tiger smiled reassuringly, pressing his finger to Blue Rose's plump lips. She blinked up at him in response, her cheeks burning scarlet. "It will be okay." Tiger turned, walking back across the bridge. "That guy is like us."
"What do you mean?" Blue Rose questioned.
"Well, a normal person can't just throw Rock Bison, can they? And also, not to brag, but I've never met anyone who could match my strength…" Tiger puffed his chest out proudly. "I think he'll come back on his own, and when he does, I think he'll make a great hero."
"All the heroes are dead," one of the men derided. "They died a long time ago…"
"Master Barnaby! Welcome home, Sir!" the servant smiled graciously, clasping hands with Barnaby warmly.
"Thank you, John. It's good to be home." Barnaby replied with a smile. He shrugged his heavy pack from his shoulder and sighed in relief. "I wasn't sure I would ever see Sternbild again."
"Oh, now, Master Barnaby," John clicked his tongue. "We never had any doubts, here, Sir." You're foolish then, Barnaby thought to himself, smiling outwardly. "We have great pride in our young master."
Barnaby jogged up the steps to his home, pausing just for a moment to press his fingers against the statue in the front garden. It wasn't the finest sculpture of the age, but it was beautiful in its own right. The statue, the image of a noble woman, was comforting to Barnaby in some profound way. His thumb brushed against the rough edged stone and he sighed in contentment. It was finally sinking in, he was home.
"Samantha?" Barnaby called as he entered the foyer. "I'm home."
"Barnaby…?" Samantha's voice wavered with emotion. Barnaby smiled as her footsteps approached rapidly and, with a spark of cheekiness, he turned and pressed himself against the wall, hiding himself in the corner.
She ran into the foyer with her wrinkled hands clutching her blouse. Her face fell as she entered the empty hall, her hands fluffing her short gray hair in confusion. "Bar..na…by?"
"I'm here, Samantha." Barnaby announced, stepping out from the wall with a playful smirk.
"Oh, you, welcome back…" Samantha smacked her hand against Barnaby's broad shoulder and shook her head, choking back tears. "You… You've grown so…"
"I'm not a child anymore, Samantha." Barnaby mumbled, lowering his eyes in embarrassment.
"I can tell." Samantha said simply, brushing her hands on her apron. "A man stands before me." Samantha nodded her head briefly and smiled. "I will start dinner. Beef stroganoff, your favorite."
Yes!, Barnaby thought to himself, smiling sheepishly. "Oh, anything is fine, Samantha."
"Of course," Samantha replied with a wink. "Dinner will be served at seven."
Barnaby had just sat down by the fire when John called on him in the study. "Master Barnaby… you have visitors, Sir."
"Visitors?" Barnaby asked, adjusting the spectacles on his nose. It had been so long since he had worn them, they were rather uncomfortable to wear.
"I'm afraid I have had much to tell you, but I thought it prudent to wait until you had settled in, Sir…" John began apologetically.
"Who is here to see me, John?" Barnaby asked simply.
"The Sheriff of Sternbild, Sir." John replied.
"Bring him in." Barnaby answered with a shrug, his green eyes narrowing. "Bring some tea as well, John."
Barnaby's fingers drummed against the armchair impatiently, expectantly. Barnaby cleared his throat, combing his fingers through his neat blonde hair. There was a knock on the door, "Sir, your visitors."
"Come in." Barnaby answered, gesturing with his hand as he spoke.
"The Sheriff of Sternbild, Master Barnaby of the House of Brooks." John introduced the men cordially, however his lips were taut and strained.
"Please, take a seat. Welcome." Barnaby had been raised a gentleman and no matter how long he had been away, it was his first nature. He shook hands with the other man, smiling and nodding at the men who wordlessly stood behind him.
"You've returned." The sheriff said after a long stretch of silence. His blue eyes searched Barnaby wordlessly and then he snorted, chuckling to himself at some unspoken joke. "It's splendid that you've returned, Hero."
"Hero? No, I'm just a soldier returning home." Barnaby's head tilted to the side, his eyes glittering in the firelight. "The crusades are over."
"And news of the King?" The sheriff asked, leaning forward in his chair. His knees bounced obnoxiously and Barnaby was decidedly not fond of the man. "Richard…. Is he alive? Well?"
Barnaby's flesh prickled uncomfortably, an unsettling mess of nerves swarming his belly. "The King is well."
"Any news of his, uh, return?" The sheriff pressed anxiously.
"He was intending to take the ship after mine," Barnaby explained. The door of the study opened quietly and John brought Barnaby and the sheriff a warm cup of tea. Barnaby smiled gratefully and lifted his cup to his lips, blowing cautiously. "I can't imagine more than a few months until his return."
"Ah, is that so? That's good, that is. Great news." The sheriff sat back in the chair, placing the teacup on the table beside him. He clasped his hands together and sighed. "Barnaby Brooks, may I call you Barnaby?"
"Of course," Barnaby nodded.
"Barnaby, the truth is, you don't know if he's well, do you?" The sheriff's blue eyes narrowed aggressively. "I mean not really… anything could've happened since you last saw 'im, right?"
"I'm not sure what you mean, sheriff." Barnaby countered, his shoulders stiffening, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "I spoke with him myself before boarding the ship. He was greatly anticipating his return to England. Are you saying something happened to the King?"
"Good, we're on the same page…" the sheriff chuckled dryly. He sighed and placed a gloved hand against his sunken cheek. "If people were to ask…" The sheriff smiled. "About the King…" The sheriff blinked slowly, purposefully. "You would tell them…"
"I would tell them that he is alive and well." Barnaby finished firmly.
"Ah, that's unfortunate…" the sheriff groaned. "That's not really the direction I was going."
"Are you asking me to lie?" Barnaby snapped angrily.
"Are you willing to lie?" the sheriff rephrased rapidly, spitting his words out.
"No." Barnaby answered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Then we understand each other, which, I suppose, is the best we can do for now." The sheriff rose, noisily sliding his chair backward as he stood. "Good day, Barnaby."
"Good day, Sheriff." Barnaby watched the men file out of the room motionlessly. Once the door closed, he stood and began to pace, his worn boots trampling the rug underfoot. There was a knock on the door and Barnaby jumped in surprise. "Yes?"
"Master Barnaby," Edward, the eldest of the staff and nearly decrepit, called through the door. "Miss Samantha says your dinner is prepared."
"Ah, yes, thank you," Barnaby answered, nodding to himself. "I'll be right down."
"Barnaby," Samantha spoke softly, her hand mussing through his tousled blonde hair. "You've hardly eaten…" Barnaby's green eyes met hers and he forced a tight smile. He cleared his throat and, chewing on his lip, began to push the food around with his fork. "Oh, stop it!" Samantha groaned as she pulled up an empty chair beside him. "You need your health, Master Barnaby…"
"Samantha…" Barnaby began unsurely, piercing a bit of stroganoff onto the prongs of his fork. "Sternbild has become a rather strange place, hasn't it?"
"What do you mean?" Samantha questioned, leaning forward improperly. "What did the sheriff really want with you? What aren't you telling me?"
"I'm not worried about the sheriff," Barnaby replied dismissively. "I can handle a snake like him easily… it's just that, well, there are men living in the forest. I encountered them on my way home. They live in the trees like savages… They even dared to charge me a tax to cross my own bridge!"
"You paid to cross the bridge?" Samantha wrung her hands in frustration. "Your grandfather built that bridge!"
"I didn't pay," Barnaby replied with a laugh. "I returned with my honor intact, thank you…"
"The men in the forest," Samantha spoke suddenly, her voice low. "You should be more careful, dear. Who knows what could've happened."
"They aren't anything I can't handle." Barnaby assured her. "I'm not a child anymore."
"Of course not," Samantha agreed hesitantly. "You came home a distinguished soldier." Samantha placed her wizened hand on Barnaby's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Now eat your stroganoff and get some sleep."
"I thought we agreed I'm not a child!" Barnaby retorted with a laugh.
"You are not a child." Samantha agreed with a kind smile. "But that doesn't mean you don't need taken care of."
She was standing in a field of bright yellow flowers, dressed in pale green. Her sandy blonde hair was down, blowing freely in the breeze. She smiled and her entire face lit up like the sun. Her hand extended toward Barnaby and he smiled, laughing out loud. The noise was foreign to his ears, as if the voice belonged to someone else, to a child.
A man stood behind her, tall and broad and strong. His dark hair was combed neatly and his large eyes were kind and inviting. He gestured Barnaby closer, the smile on his face matching the woman's next to him.
They smiled so uniformly, so pleasantly. Barnaby felt an urgency, he had to grab her hand. He rushed forward, the blades of grass and long stemmed flowers scratching against his arms and face. He felt the stinging but he ignored it, rushing forward as swiftly as he could.
"Mom! Dad!" He called out to them, his voice small and frightened and unbelievably heartbroken. "Mom!" He ran with his hand in front of himself. "Dad!" He began to silently plead with God. Please, God, just let me reach them. Let me grab that hand. Let me get there in time. Please, God, I'll do anything. I'll be good… just one more time. Just this once…
And then the entire field was on fire. His parents in front of him stood motionless, empty smiles plastered onto their melting faces. Barnaby screamed, clutching his hair in his hands. "Nooo!" He screamed, and this time his voice was his own. "No! Please!" He sank into the grass.
When he woke, he was sweating profusely, his nightclothes and bedsheets sticking to his skin. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry, his tongue stiff and painful. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the carafe of water beside his bed. He blinked slowly, unsurely and then sat up, disturbing the table beside him. The carafe fell to the floor with a clatter, shards of glass spraying across the floor.
Thick black smoke billowed under the space of the door, filling his room. He climbed out of bed, pulling on his trousers immediately. His bare feet pounded against the wooden floor as he approached the door. He reached out anxiously, his hand wrapping around the iron knob. He yelped, cursing loudly and began to shake his hand, raising it to his lips and blowing cool air onto the blistering flesh. Barnaby pulled his nightshirt over his face, coughing violently as he backed away from the door.
The temperature in the room was broiling and it made Barnaby's head swim uncomfortably. He shook his head and breathed deeply into his shirt. The house is on fire, he thought, trying to maintain composure. I just need to climb out the window.
He wrapped his hand in the hem of his shirt, twisting the thin fabric around his fist. With one rapid strike, he punched a hole in the glass, causing the entire plate to shatter outward. It's not too far down, just jump.
Barnaby closed his eyes, thrusting his head out the window for fresh air. He pulled himself up awkwardly, sitting in the frame of the window before swinging his legs over. Without a second's hesitation, he leapt from the burning house. He landed well enough, the earth was soft from a light rain, but the house was at the top of the hill and as such he was tossed downhill, rolling head over foot down the grassy knoll.
He came to a stop in the small ditch by his stables and for a long moment he just laid there on the damp ground. He could hear several men yelling and taunting over the hiss of the fire. He had intended to climb to his feet and throw himself upon the arsonists, but he found he was unable to breathe. His chest heaved up and down painfully, his throat burning as if he had swallowed glass. He wanted to fight; he wanted to defend his life and property. He took another shallow, agonizing breath as dark shapes swarmed his eyes. And then everything went black.
Barnaby covered his eyes with his arm, the warm sun beating down on his fair skin brutally. He sat up slowly, bits of straw and clumps of grass falling from his wet hair. He looked around, his memory lagging until he saw the house. He was on his feet in an instant, running toward his home in desperation.
Barnaby bolted through the ruined garden, groaning as he passed the decimated stone statue, the noble woman's head knocked completely off the body. He took the steps three at a time, tossing aside a block of wood that had been used to seal the door.
"Samantha?" Barnaby called out unsurely, his hand gripping the scorched stone. He sank down onto one knee, in what had been the foyer of his ancestral home, a terrible pain wrenching in his chest. Barnaby gasped for air loudly and jaggedly. "John? Edward?"
There was no answer. Barnaby crawled forward, his strength and courage draining from his body like a bloody wound. He lifted his hands and stared at his dirtied palms, blackened by the ash. "Samantha?" Barnaby repeated, his voice fragile and small. "Samantha?" Barnaby sank further down onto the ground, his back giving way in his desolation. "Please! Please answer me!"
The sun passed behind thick, gray clouds and Barnaby looked up as the darkness grew. It was an ugly sky, broken by a few slivers of roofing still in place. The clouds were heavy and foreboding. A pitiful, gut-wrenching sadness ripped through Barnaby and he curled into a tight ball as the rain began to fall. The water bounced off of the burnt tables and chairs. The wood steamed as the heat was released into the cold air. The black ash became sludge underneath Barnaby, coating every inch of every thing. Barnaby was left with nothing. Barnaby was left with no one. Barnaby would discover, hours later when he finally pulled himself to his feet, that he possessed only one thing, a desire for retribution.
Tiger paused, his toes spreading in his heavily worn boots. His amber eyes slowly turned, searching his peripheral vision. He stood silently for several seconds before shaking his head, chuckling softly. He continued through the forest, the dry leaves crunching noisily beneath his feet, until he reached a small watering hole.
Tiger kicked off his boots, peeling the stained, holey socks from his sweaty feet. He removed his shirt, tossing it to the ground without another thought. He stopped and listened before unfastening his pants, letting them fall to the forest floor and then stepping out of them. His undergarments were taken off in one fell swoop, removing his mask last, and then he was climbing up on the rocky ledge of the watering hole.
He tested the water with a single toe, it was freezing. Tiger shivered and swallowed heavily. "Well, shit, be a man, Kotetsu," Tiger muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes and took a step forward, plunging into the water. He rocketed to the surface with a gasp, gooseflesh erupting all over his bare skin.
"Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold!" Tiger complained, scrubbing his underarms and chest rapidly, splashing water onto his neck. His hands roamed all over his body, scratching and rubbing at the stubborn debris encrusted on his skin and under his nails. "So cold. So cold!"
Tiger dunked his head under the water and combed his fingers through his burgundy hair. He fought through the tangles, biting down on his lower lip in concentration. His body began to relax, eventually adjusting to the icy water. He gargled loudly, spitting it out in a fountain-like stream. He took another mouthful of water, his cheeks puffing out comically.
"You're more like a monkey…"
Tiger sputtered, water spraying out in every direction as he turned to face the speaker. He waded in the water, looking up at Barnaby in surprise. The other man was leaning against a tree, a long bow resting against his side. He removed his spectacles, rubbing the hem of his tunic against the foggy glass.
"You…" Tiger let out a laugh, shaking his head. He brushed his hands through his hair, slicking the wet hair backward. He went to adjust his mask and froze, cursing under his breath. He covered his face belatedly with his splayed fingers. "Did you just call me a monkey?"
"I compared you to a monkey." Barnaby admitted with a shrug. "They call you Tiger, hm? It's a misnomer; you're more like a little monkey."
"A monkey?" Tiger whispered in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at Barnaby and frowned.
"I was robbed by a monkey once," Barnaby continued, ignoring Tiger's indignation. "I went for a bath, much like you today, and the little bugger made off with six pence, a pocket watch and my helmet."
"Monkey?" Tiger repeated again.
"The Holy Land has animals of every sort, exotic people, exotic foods…"
"Oh, and Lil' Bunny came home without a wife?" Tiger teased with a wink.
"Old man, I don't want any misunderstandings," Barnaby suddenly exclaimed. "I'm here for information."
"Huh?" Tiger retorted, his temper flaring up. He pulled himself up on the rocky ledge and stood, casting Barnaby dirty looks the entire time. Barnaby smiled smugly, watching Tiger's movements intently until he suddenly turned away, his pale skin reddening. Tiger used his shirt to dry himself quickly, pulling his soiled clothes back on with a grimace. "Whaddaya want to know, Bunny?"
"The Sheriff. Who is he?" Barnaby spat the words, hatred bubbling over his tongue and out through his lips. "What has happened to Sternbild in the four years I've been gone?"
"Ah," Tiger laughed bitterly. "That guy." Tiger pulled his shirt over his muscled chest and bent over, retrieving his mask from the ground. He brushed the mask against his pants, his fingers fumbling with the strap. "He's a real nasty guy."
"He burned my house to the ground," Barnaby said. "With three of my servants locked inside." Barnaby clenched his hands into fists. "I need to know, who is he? What is his agenda?"
"I'm sorry," Tiger exhaled heavily, reaching out to place a hand on Barnaby's shoulder. He pulled back at the last moment, letting his hand fall back to his side. Tiger cleared his throat and rolled from the ball of his foot to his toes. "His name is Jake Martinez. He became sheriff three years ago, after good ol' Peter White died, rather mysteriously I might add." Tiger's voice fell into a spirited whisper. "The sheriff has been lining the pockets of the clergy and the landowners. He gets away with anything, and all at the cost of the everyday people."
"The taxes you mentioned earlier," Barnaby said, nodding his head in understanding. "He's collecting bribe money."
"Exactly," Tiger's amber eyes narrowed. "That sorta crap really pisses me off."
"And what are you doing about it?" Barnaby asked, his green eyes searching Tiger's face. "You and your band of forest dwellers?"
"Well, I," Tiger began to stammer unsurely. "We… I, well, I've started collecting tolls, from the bridges you know. We buy food, clothes, medicine… We keep some for ourselves, but we also go into Sternbild, deliver the supplies to the church."
"And this is your rebellion?" Barnaby asked, shaking his head. "You consider yourself a hero?"
"To starving children we are," Tiger replied, so earnestly it caused Barnaby to take a step backward. "I really don't care what other people think about me…"
"Don't you just feel weak and insignificant?" Barnaby asked, more to himself than to Tiger.
"All the time." Tiger admitted, placing his mask over his face and securing it.
"Why do you hide your identity?" Barnaby asked after a long stretch of silence. "Are you a criminal?"
"Well, I am now," Tiger laughed nervously. "Tax evasion… extortion… assault on an officer… It's really gone downhill here recently." Tiger scratched his nose and sighed. "I hide my face because I don't want people knowing who I am."
"And why not?" Barnaby pressed.
"Because I have a family," Tiger confessed, his eyes on the ground. "Not here, but on a farm on the south side of Sternbild." Tiger cleared his throat. "I can't have them getting caught up in this."
"And I thought tigers were solitary creatures." Barnaby mused with a smirk.
"We are." Tiger said flatly.
Barnaby's smile faltered and then disappeared completely. He cleared his throat and extended his hand to the older man somberly. "I'm Barnaby Brooks, Jr." Barnaby took Tiger's hand in his own and shook. "I'm interested in teaming up."
"T-t-teaming up?" Tiger stammered in confusion. "W-w-what do you mean?"
"You said you're a hero," Barnaby explained, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I am going to stop the sheriff and whatever scheme he has cooked up." Barnaby released Tiger's hand and clenched his fists. "I can help the people as I do it. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."
"The sheriff is strong." Tiger exhaled heavily as he spoke. "No one has fought against him and lived."
"I am strong." Barnaby countered. "I can depend on myself." Barnaby pressed his finger into Tiger's chest in gesture. "You need to keep up, Old Man."
"W-w-what? What? What?" Tiger sputtered, his eyes widening in insulted disbelief. "You punky kid… why I oughta…"
"I'll return at twilight, be ready in this spot," Barnaby instructed, turning away from Tiger.
"Bunny, wait!" Tiger called after him, running barefoot through the leaves. "How many men should I bring?"
"Just one." Barnaby answered. "And my name is Barnaby."
"Stupid, cocky, arrogant," Tiger muttered as he walked through the forest. He shivered, pulling his hat lower down his head and wrapping his arms around his chest. His footsteps were heavy, the leaves crunching noisily underfoot. He kicked a large pile and watched the foliage scatter before continuing on toward the watering hole. "Who does he even think he is?"
A twig snapped behind him and the hair on his neck and arms rose. He spun around, freezing in place as a knife was thrust against his neck. "You make a lot of noise." Barnaby growled lowly. "You should probably learn to breathe through your nose."
"Heh," Tiger smiled. "You probably think that your attitude bothers me, but I love children." Tiger pressed his hand into Barnaby's abdomen, knocking the larger man backward. The knife nicked his skin just below the jaw, spilling crimson down his neck and chest.
"You made me cut you." Barnaby exclaimed, pushing his knife into his belt. He shook his head and crossed his arms. "I was just demonstrating that you should be quieter, henceforth…"
"And I was demonstrating how you shouldn't pull out a weapon unless you damn well mean to use it." Tiger ignored the blood streaming down his face and turned to face Barnaby. "And don't ever try to teach me anything, kid. I'm a full grown man."
"Fine, you're a lost cause anyway," Barnaby muttered, his round cheeks stained pink. He began to jog through the forest, his hands trailing across the trunks of the trees. "We should get a move on. It'll be dark soon."
"Where are we going, Bunny?" Tiger asked, chasing after Barnaby on the uneven terrain. Barnaby ignored him, casting a warning sideway glance. After a few minutes, the two men approached a path in the forest. The worn path was often used as a road from the rural forest manors to the city.
"And now we wait." Barnaby whispered, testing the strength of a low hanging branch. He climbed the tree, resting his back against the trunk and letting his legs fall freely on either side of the branch.
"What are we waiting for?" Tiger asked, narrowing his eyes and peering into the dark forest. There was no need for Barnaby to answer, because as soon as the words escaped Tiger's mouth there was a great, growing rumble coming up the path. Four flickering orange lights outlined a fine carriage and the two handsome horses pulling.
Barnaby dropped down from the tree, standing in the center of the path with a smile. "Ah, we're setting up toll…" Tiger mused aloud. "Not sure how that's so different from my plan… which you thought was silly. My plan was pretty much identical really… but of course, yours must be better somehow…"
"Be quiet and watch, Tiger." Barnaby instructed, gesturing widely with his arms.
"Clear the way!" the driver shouted, nervousness and fear injected throughout his voice. "Move!" There was shuffling inside the carriage and in the darkness Barnaby could just make out the face of a Baron peering out the window. "I demand you move this instant, serf!"
"I will move." Barnaby agreed. "Just as soon as you empty your trunks." Barnaby's hand rested on his sword meaningfully and he smirked, nodding toward the carriage. "I'll take all of it." Barnaby nodded toward Tiger, "Open it up." Tiger obeyed, his hands shaking as he opened the door to the carriage. His eyes widened as he spotted the tremendous amount of gold and precious stones inside. "Relieve our friends of their heavy load, Tiger."
"There's so much." Tiger breathed.
"And it's mine!" the Baron snapped, reaching out and slapping Tiger's cheek sharply. Tiger took a step back in surprise, his hand reaching toward the red mark on his face. "Get your filthy hands away from my gold!"
"This is from the sheriff, is it not?" Barnaby asked, stepping forward.
"And so what if it is?" The Baron demanded.
"He bleeds the common people dry and lines your fat pockets with dirty money." Barnaby was careful with his choice of words, gauging Tiger's reaction. Tiger would not steal from anyone outright. There had to be infallible logic behind such an action. "The common people hunger and you feel nothing but greed!" Barnaby swallowed the rising guilt; he wasn't lying per se, though he was manipulating the older man. Barnaby had already accepted that people might get hurt while he fought this vendetta against the sheriff. Tiger took a step backward and Barnaby cursed internally. He wasn't going for it.
"Why do I care? These filthy peasants should do their share! I pay taxes too! I work hard for my money. They should learn some discipline as well and perhaps stop having so many children if they can't feed them!"
Something snapped inside Tiger at the baron's words. His hand crushed the handle of the carriage door, the entire thing ripping off its hinges. The baron and his wife screamed as Tiger climbed into the cabin. He lifted the heavy chest of bribe money and hoisted it to his shoulder. He plucked the man's pocket watch from his lapel and snatched the handbag from beside the wife. He backed out of the carriage and tipped his hat. "The people thank you for your generous donation, Baron and Baroness."
"Good evening," Barnaby said with a wide grin. "Please extend our thanks to the Sheriff of Sternbild."
The carriage rolled away quickly, the driver whipping the horses and the air. The baroness's wails could be heard until they crossed the river. Barnaby nodded his head wordlessly, turning to look at Tiger. Tiger looked like he was about to be sick. His olive complexion was sickly chartreuse. "Are you alright, Tiger?"
"I…" Tiger was at a loss for words. He held the chest against his stomach, staring down at the contents with glazed over eyes.
"Hey," Barnaby said softly, his pale hand brushing against Tiger's shoulder. "We're not keeping this."
"We're not?" Tiger asked, looking up into Barnaby's green eyes.
"No." Barnaby assured him. He squeezed Tiger's arm gently. "Your idea… it wasn't so bad," Barnaby admitted. "But this time, it's going to be on a lot bigger scale." Barnaby couldn't help but return Tiger's lopsided smile. "We are going to help a lot of people."
"So handsome!" Fire Emblem, snatched the poster in their hands, inspecting every inch of the illustration. They wriggled back in forth in excitement. "I've never seen such a wonderful Wanted Poster!"
"Yeah, yeah." Tiger grumbled, letting Barnaby's poster slide from his hand.
"Don't get jealous, Tiger." Fire Emblem purred. "I'll still let you lay next to me tonight."
Tiger laughed, knocking shoulders with Fire Emblem, "Not tonight, I'll get a stiff neck."
Barnaby's eyes widened in shock, looking from Tiger to Fire Emblem. It had been four months since he had teamed up with Tiger and the operation had expanded exponentially, involving nearly everyone from Tiger's forest camp. Even though Barnaby was now living among them, he felt like they were a completely different species.
"Don't look so confused, Handsome." Fire Emblem growled playfully, their broad yet slender body pressing against Tiger's side. "Sometimes when adults love eachother -"
"Shut up!" Blue Rose groaned, smacking her pale hand against Fire Emblem's back. "You two are going to scare him off!"
"You two?" Tiger groaned. "What have I done?"
"Here," Fire Emblem said, pursing their lips. "Look at this old man's poster. He looks rather distinguished… doesn't he?"
Blue Rose took the poster from Fire Emblem, her brown eyes searching the paper as if studying it. "Barnaby's worth more."
"Obviously, the sheriff knows quality when he sees it!" Fire Emblem gushed, reaching a dark hand out and squeezing Barnaby's shoulder.
"You guys are a hundred times more annoying when he's around." Tiger complained, stepping out from under Fire Emblem's arm. "I'm going for a walk."
Tiger walked through the forest, the rowdy voices of his friends following him. He wasn't jealous, truthfully, but whenever his friends interacted with Barnaby something inside of him felt small and insecure. He didn't need to be the center of attention, he didn't need fame or glory, but deep down he just wanted someone to need him, to want to be with him, around him, more than anyone else.
"Oh, Tomoe," Tiger breathed, rubbing his cheeks with his hands. "I'm selfish." His mind was whirring, a million thoughts a second. He walked until he reached the watering hole. It was small, and the water was cold. The river was closer to camp. It made the watering hole the perfect place.
He stripped slowly, lazily tossing his clothes into the water. He removed his mask, placing it on the rocks. He didn't bother testing the temperature, it was always icy cold. He slid in, his teeth chattering as he sank into the water until his nose upward was the only thing above the water. He blew bubbles with his mouth, letting the water's buoyancy sway him back and forth.
He dipped his pants in the water, wringing them before throwing the sopping cloth on a rock to dry. He did the same with his shirt and undergarments. Feeling accomplished he pulled himself out of the water, lying on his back on the cold stone.
His skin prickled, the soft breeze rolling the droplets of water down his body, pooling underneath him. He folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes, the wind ruffling his cordovan hair. Within a few minutes he had fallen asleep.
Barnaby's palm connected with his own cheek, a heavy, uncomfortable flush settling into his cheeks. He cursed under his breath, his hands on the top of his thighs as he doubled over. He paced back and forth, a strange sensation bubbling from his stomach up into his throat. He thought he might actually be sick. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his nerves.
His green eyes opened and he took a step forward, then another, before dropping to his knees. He scooted forward, on hand and knee, pausing with his head just inches from Tiger's. He swallowed heavily, his eyes roaming Tiger's nakedness. Tiger's body was somehow very different from his own.
The skin was darker, more course, with patches of even darker skin around his neck, elbows and knees. His muscles were lean, less defined, and his waist was more slender. His hips were more pronounced, his legs were thin, his feet boney. But every inch of him was beautiful.
I was just checking on him, Barnaby insisted, trying to convince himself. He didn't come back because he fell asleep. He's fine. You can see that. You can go now. But Barnaby found that his shaking arms wouldn't push him backward. He was frozen to the spot, a peculiar sensation tickling his belly.
He combed his fingers through Tiger's drying hair, arranging it neatly. He pulled a strand to his lips, inhaling the musky scent. "Tiger." Barnaby spoke softly, his hand stroking the older man's cheek. He placed his thumb gently against Tiger's groomed facial hair, the bottom of his thumb pressing against Tiger's bottom lip. Tiger didn't wake.
Barnaby took a deep breath, placing his hands on either side of Tiger's head. He leaned down, his lips pressing to Tiger's forehead, then his nose, and finally, his lips touched Tiger's lips.
Tiger stirred, his amber eyes opening. He looked up at Barnaby, his wide eyes blinking innocently. He smiled up at Barnaby's upside down form. "Hey, Bunny, why are you so close?" He grunted in complaint as Barnaby flicked his nose. "Ouch!"
"That couldn't have hurt." Barnaby insisted, sitting back on his knees before climbing to his feet. "You have been gone a while. It's almost dark. The others were worried so I said I would look for you."
Tiger's hand floated to his lips confusedly, his thumb wicking away a bit of moisture. He watched Barnaby out of the corner of his eyes, dressing automatically. "That's unusal…" Tiger thought aloud.
"What is?" Barnaby asked.
"I had the strangest dream." Tiger said, his voice low and thick.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"Well," Barnaby's snapped tensely. "What was it about?"
"It was about you, Lil Bunny."
Barnaby was speechless for a moment, a deep blush spreading across his nose and cheeks toward his ears. He pushed a strand of blonde hair behind his ear and cleared his throat. "What about me?"
"It's embarrassing." Tiger admitted with a throaty laugh.
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
Well," Barnaby said simply, folding his arms. "We should be getting back."
They walked several yards apart, in complete silence, until they reached the camp where Barnaby stalked off toward his tent and Tiger went to find Rock Bison. The other man was drinking ale and sponging the last bit of stew from the bottom of his bowl with a piece of stale bread. He smiled when he saw Tiger and gestured for him to take a seat beside him. "What's up, Wild Tiger?"
"Nothing." Tiger said with a smile.
"Don't lie." Rock Bison demanded, slapping his large hand against Tiger's back.
"Troubling dreams." Tiger blurted with a heavy sigh. "I'm so pathetic at times."
"What about?" Rock Bison questioned, his reddish brown brows knitting together in concern.
"A kiss." Tiger explained with exasperation. "A stupid kiss! From a person who I shouldn't ever be dreaming of…" Tiger groaned, his head sinking into his hands. "Of all people!"
"Who?" Rock Bison asked, smirking with curiosity.
"I'll die before I tell." Tiger stated matter-of-factly.
"Okay, fine. So what happened? Was it a sex dream? Or…?" Rock Bison trailed off expectantly.
"No, not really. I was just in this garden, everything was upside down and backward, like a mirror or something, I don't know…" Tiger began to explain, his brows furrowed. "And then this person just kisses me out of the blue…"
"Did you want them to?" Tiger and Rock Bison both looked up in surprise as a fairly handsome blonde man, no older than eighteen, spoke up. He smiled apologetically and squeezed beside them on an empty stool.
"Hey, Origami Eavesdropper," Rock Bison derided.
"The kiss? Was it asked for?" Origami Cyclone asked, flashing Rock Bison an innocent smile.
"Uh," Tiger looked up, his tongue clicking thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't."
"Oh," Origami Cyclone said, his voice full of disappointment. "That's not good."
"What do you mean?" Tiger asked, leaning forward.
"Being kissed without permission in a dream," Origami Cyclone explained, his violet eyes wide and unblinking. "It means that person is false and untrue…"
"Oh, I thought it was like a death omen or something," Rock Bison sighed in relief.
"God, me too!" Tiger agreed with a laugh. "Whew!" Tiger stood, slapping his hand on Origami Cyclone's back. "Thanks for the info, Origami." He bowed his head and flashed a crooked smile. "Night, gentlemen."
"Aren't you helping tonight?" Rock Bison called over his shoulder. "The Duchess Norfolk is having a party tonight, the roads should be chock full of those rich assholes!"
"Nah, Bunny said there was something else we needed to do." Tiger explained, walking backward as he spoke. Rock Bison nodded and Tiger turned, pushing his hands in his pockets. "Be careful tonight, Antonio."
"Sure, you too."
Tiger grabbed a bowl of stew, shoveling it into his mouth with some stale toast. He ate quickly, smiling in thanks before he had even finished swallowing. He handed the bowl to the portly woman who worked in the kitchen and she smiled in return. He jogged toward Barnaby's tent, rasping his hand against the stake outside. "Hello? You ready to go?"
"You're late, Old Man." Barnaby chastised. He stood against a tree, his face only partly illuminated by the nearest torch. He turned without another word, without waiting to see if Tiger followed.
"I was eating!" Tiger exclaimed, walking quickly to match Barnaby's pace. "You said to meet you at sundown!"
"And it's past sundown." Barnaby replied, gesturing with his hands in irritation.
"Ya know, people think you're so cool." Tiger muttered. "They don't know the real you." Barnaby narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it, shook his head and continued walking. Tiger caught up with Barnaby, placing his hand on his shoulder and spinning him around to face him. "You're sulky and childish."
"Are you trying to start a fight?" Barnaby asked, arching a pale brow.
"No." Tiger exhaled, rubbing his face with his hands. "No, I'm not… I just…"
"Then let's go." Barnaby said.
"Sure. Yeah. Let's go." Tiger agreed.
They walked in silence for several miles. Finally, they came to a decrepit looking stable. Barnaby hopped the fence with ease, grabbing a bit of hay and tossing it into the stalls. Three magnificent chestnut horses burst into view, their large white muzzles brushing against Barnaby.
Barnaby replaced the water in the trough and readied the tack as the horses ate. Tiger stood there unsurely, watching Barnaby as he worked. He looked down in surprise as Barnaby placed the reins in his hand. "You're riding this one."
"We're stealing this horse?" Barnaby asked, looking up at the beautiful gelding in surprise. He brushed his hand over the horse's neck, combing through the long, dark mane absently.
"We're not stealing." Barnaby said simply.
"We're just borrowing?" Tiger finished sarcastically.
"No, we're not stealing because they're mine." Barnaby corrected, nodding as he stepped into the saddle, pulling himself onto the back of the horse.
"They're your horses?" Tiger asked, climbing awkwardly into the saddle.
"You're riding Samson."
"Hello, Samson," Tiger whispered, petting the horse's neck affectionately. "My name is Wild Tiger." Tiger smiled at the animal and then looked over at Barnaby. "Just so you know, Bunny, I've never ridden a horse before."
"Oh, you'll be fine." Barnaby promised, his green eyes glittering. He smirked and smacked Samson on the rear. "Hyaaa!"
"Wahhhhh!" Tiger yelped, dropping low against the back of Samson. He gripped the reins, the rough leather rubbing against his palms. The animal cantered over the uneven ground, nearly bouncing Tiger from the saddle. "Bunny! Bunny! Bunny!" Tiger turned slightly, his frightened expression causing Barnaby to erupt in laughter. "Help me, Bunny!"
"Pull the reins back." Barnaby laughed, trotting behind. He clicked his tongue, his boots gently nudging against his own horse. He caught up with Tiger and Samson, grabbing the reins and pulling back. "Whoa, Samson!"
"Oh, god!" Tiger groaned as he slowly sat back up in the saddle. "I thought we were friends…I trusted you…"
"It's not Samson's fault." Barnaby said with a shrug.
"I was talking to you!" Tiger snapped, grabbing the reins and attempting to steer the horse away from Barnaby.
"Okay, I'm sorry." Barnaby said with a laugh. "Follow me, we're wasting time."
"We? We are wasting time?" Tiger grumbled under his breath. He sat back and sighed in relief as Samson obediently began to fall in line behind Barnaby and his horse. They rode for another fifteen minutes before pulling off the road.
"Okay, now what?" Tiger asked.
Barnaby placed his fingers against Tiger's lips, silencing him. Tiger narrowed his eyes in confusion but Barnaby simply shook his head. He pulled out some clothing from the saddle bag and tossed it to Tiger. "Get dressed."
"Huh?" Tiger unfolded the cloth, examining the fine tailored clothes in surprise. He removed his worn cotton garbs and slid into the luxurious silk and velvet. He held a strip of satin, confused as to where it went.
"That's a cummerbund." Barnaby explained. "It goes around your waist… no, like… let me do it." Barnaby took the sash from Tiger, fitting it around his waist, just above the hips. He took a step back, inspecting Tiger critically. "You'll pass."
"I'll pass? For what?" Tiger asked watching Barnaby dress quickly.
"A gentleman." Barnaby replied as he secured his own mask in place.
"And why do I need to pass for a gentleman?"
"Because we are going to Duchess Norfolk's party."
"What?!" Tiger screeched. He leaned to the side, peering around the edge of the forest. He shook his head, amazed at the enormous manor that was just yards from them.
"The sheriff is attending that party." Barnaby explained.
"So we're gonna go in there and kick his ass." Tiger realized, smiling widely.
"No, no, absolutely not." Barnaby snapped. "There is a plan. Pay attention, Old Man. We are information gathering. No fighting. No stealing. Behave yourself!"
"I wish you would discuss the plans in advance." Tiger admonished.
"You never listen anyway!" Barnaby accused.
"Excuse me! You there!" a steward called out, a lantern bathing the man in orange light. "Are you here for the party?"
"Yes, Sir." Barnaby said, stepping out from the wood with a polite smile. "I am Master Robin Hood of Locksley. This," he gestured to Tiger as he spoke. "Is Sir John Little."
"And what are you doing in there?" the steward asked, pointing to the wood with distaste.
"Oh, uh," Tiger stammered unsurely.
"Yes?" the steward pressed.
"I was adjusting his codpiece," Barnaby said without batting an eye. He crossed the lawn, passed the steward and paused. "Are you coming, John?"
"Ah, of course, Robin," Tiger growled, walking past the steward quickly. They walked up the stairs together, the steward following several yards behind. Tiger leaned in, whispering into Barnaby's ear, "What's a codpiece?"
"Never mind, it doesn't matter." Barnaby said with a smile.
"I want to know though…"
"I said it doesn't matter…"
"If it doesn't matter, just tell me!" Tiger proposed impatiently.
"Shhh!" Barnaby hissed. "Act like a gentleman. Straighten up, stop whispering, no fidgeting."
"You really piss me off," Tiger spat through gritted teeth.
"This way, gentlemen," the steward instructed, gesturing them through a busy kitchen.
Tiger's stomach grumbled painfully, the wondrous scent of food filling his nostrils. His hand brushed against the counter, nimbly plucking a steamed prawn from a serving tray. He popped the prawn in his mouth, pushing it to the side as the steward turned around. "Enjoy yourselves, Sirs."
"Thank you," Barnaby said with a nod. Tiger simply smiled, the food plumping out his cheeks.
The door opened and Tiger stepped into a different world. The well-lit room was spacious, with gold and blue accents that sparkled like jewels. The ceilings were high, the kind of ceiling that Tomoe, Tiger's wife, would call a cobweb ceiling. He narrowed his eyes, but this particular cobweb ceiling looked impeccably clean. The room was warmed by two separate fireplaces, the chill from the open garden doors nothing more than a pleasant breeze.
It was like the people were from another world. They were magnificently dressed and handsomely groomed. It was an intoxicating masquerade. Many danced, others stood by the food tables as if staking claim, and even a few appeared to have passed out on the chaise lounges beside the fire. They drank in excess, wasted food and laughed too loudly to be considered natural.
Someone bumped into Tiger, knocking him out of his reverie. He stumbled forward, knocking into a solid form. He looked up, swallowing loudly as his gaze met a pair of intimidating olive eyes. "Excuse me," Tiger apologized, straightening up slowly.
"Are you alright, Judge Petrov?" A partygoer asked, glaring at Tiger with distaste.
"Of course, it's quite alright." The Judge assured the partygoer and Tiger, watching the latter with intense interest. "I know the face, but I can't quite place it…" The Judge tucked a strand of his gray hair behind his ear and then extended a frail arm in greeting. "My name is Yuri Petrov, have we met before?"
"Ah, nice to meet you," Tiger gushed, shaking the Judge's hand nervously. "We've never met, I'm from out of town…" Tiger laughed fretfully. "My name is Little John, err, I mean John Little."
Yuri Petrov's eyes narrowed in recognition and Tiger knew that he had been identified. But then, in an instant, his features returned to normal and he smiled sadly, taking a sip from his champagne flute. "Would you like to join us, Mr. Little? We were just discussing Sternbild's disturbing rise in crime."
"Ah, well," Tiger looked around, searching the crowded room for Barnaby. He sighed, accepting defeat before looking up with a smile. "Sure…"
Barnaby shook his head. Only Tiger could manage to bump into someone as high profile as Judge Yuri Petrov within a minute out of the gate. He stood against the wall, popping grapes into his mouth, until he decided that Tiger was momentarily safe enough for him to snoop around.
Barnaby slinked upstairs, hoping to improve his vantage point. Once upstairs, he nodded in greeting to everyone he passed. Acting naturally was the easiest way to fool others. He took a seat in an overstuffed armchair, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing tray.
It didn't take long to discover that the sheriff wasn't there. Barnaby pushed the disappointment to the back of his mind. The sheriff would arrive late, but he would be there. He took mental notes of the attendees, and then growing rather bored of watching the frivolities, he found himself watching Tiger.
Tiger stood with the Judge and a small circle of friends. He spoke animatedly, his thin body leaning this way and that as his arms gestured along with his words. Barnaby could tell he was being humorous by the women covering their mouths as they laughed. One woman reached out, her delicate hand brushing against Tiger's forearm. She slapped her hand against his arm, teasingly. Barnaby cleared his throat and looked away. His mind was full of confusing and conflicting thoughts.
There was only one thing that he could focus on, only one thing that made sense. And that very thing walked through the front doors nearly bringing the entire room into silence. Even the music became hushed and conservative.
The sheriff raised his hand, smiling from ear to ear. He tousled his messy brown hair and sighed. "Good evening, sorry I'm late, Duchess. I took an unanticipated detour through the forest." The sheriff took the champagne that was offered to him and downed it in an instant. "Seems our thieving little forest bandits were to set up a nasty operation tonight," a collective gasp filled the room. "Don't worry good people. Your brave sheriff has already eliminated the threat."