Warning: AU, Pseudo-Historical Romance, PG-13, Ran/Ken.
Disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss.
When He Danced With Me
Chapter 11
Ken followed Yohji through the door one flight up from the landing they'd found themselves on when they'd entered the large old inn. Although they could hear the sound of voices, laughing and swearing mostly, the tiny room they entered was empty of people. It appeared to be some sort of butler's pantry. There were shelves full of china and pewter cups, two small tables on either side of the door, and a little door in one wall that suggested a dumbwaiter.
Yohji quickly crossed the small space and edged open the door leading further into the inn.
"Ah," he said as he peeked through. "I believe Omi may have been correct in his assessment. There seems to be a sort of tavern set up in what may have been the dining room. It's large enough to hold maybe one hundred or more, but there's only about fifty people here."
"Sounds like more," Ken muttered.
"Well, they do seem to be enjoying themselves," Yohji said. "There's card games going and everyone seems to be...Hello."
The prince stepped back as the door was pulled open from inside to reveal a young woman dressed in a serving uniform. She blinked up at him in surprise before remembering to curtsy.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said.
"Not at all," Yohji said putting on his most charming smile. But it disappeared a moment later when two tall burly looking fellows leaned round either side of the door to scowl at them. "Ah, hello to you as well, gentlemen."
When the two continued to scowl and failed to bow Ken knew they were in trouble.
"Out," the one on the right said, motioning with his head of black hair.
"Certainly," the Prince answered stiffly and led Ken out into the room.
The serving girl hurried past them and closed the door to the pantry behind her.
The Duke and the Prince found themselves in a dark paneled room lit by two low hanging chandeliers and candles in wall sconces, but it did nothing to actually brighten the space. The occupied tables were all at one end and seemed to be over filled with patrons. Most were in a state of high spirits and many were at least partially undressed. Many of the women seemed to be wearing nothing but their under garments, and Ken found himself starting to blush at what was revealed. The patrons didn't even seem to notice them, either too caught up in their drinking or gambling to notice. Or perhaps it wasn't unusual for well dressed young men to emerge through a servants' entrance. But then why were there guards stationed there?
Ken looked at the two brutes who were now flanking them and directing them toward a door at the other end of the room. Both large and apparently well muscled, the one with black hair was still scowling darkly while the other seemed more like he didn't car one way or the other that they were there. He had a nasty scar down one side of his face and moved with a slight limp.
"Do you speak to all your guests so brusquely?" Yohji asked haughtily. He had switched his angry expression for one of pampered snobbery.
"Nope. But you're no guest here," the black haired man replied.
"And how would you know? Do you have any idea who we are?" Yohji demanded.
"Nope. But I know you're no guest," the man answered.
He motioned toward the door that they were heading toward. It was open and Yohji sniffed before passing through it, out of the din of the tavern and into the relative quiet of a large hallway. There was a formal staircase back toward the middle of the hall and two double doors at what must have been the front. There was a gentleman in butlers apparel standing by the doors. He stiffened when he saw them and exchanged hushed words with the black haired man. The man with the scar remained behind them.
"I thought they might show us out," Yohji whispered beside him, "but it appears not."
"Good," Ken said and thought he noticed a spark of surprise in his cousin's eyes.
"This way," the black haired man said nodding toward another door directly across the hall.
They moved through the door and into what turned out to be a large parlor. The butler kept his place at the door, but his eyes followed them wearily as they passed. Ken wondered why anyone should be afraid of them or their presence.
They were led through the parlor which was full of couples tucked into darkened corners speaking softly to one another. Most were made up of one man and one woman, but not all of them and Ken saw at least one group of three who were doing a bit more than talking. He quickly looked away but was wide eyed by the time they reached the other end of the parlor and were being shown through yet another door.
"Steady on, Cousin Ken," Yohji said as they passed through. He didn't seem to be put out in the least and had even winked at one woman who, despite her attentive partner, had brazenly licked her lips at him. But Ken could still detect the anger under the surface of Yohji's calm.
"Go on through," the black haired man directed.
Ken looked back at him and discovered that the one with the scar had remained in the hall with the butler.
"You truly are the rudest of men," Yohji said over his shoulder as he opened the door.
They entered another parlor, but this one was more intimate. The light was dimmer, most of it coming from a large fireplace at the far end, and there were paneled screens and curtains set up to divide the space into small seating areas. In the dark it was hard to distinguish who if anyone was seated in the low chairs and lounging couches. Certainly someone was there since Ken could make out the light from their pipes and cigarettes which were filing the room with smoke. With the door shut again the noise from the tavern was all but silenced.
As in the outer parlor the eyes of those present followed them through the room to the table set to one side of the fireplace, where a quieter card game was taking place between fully dressed men. All of them seemed distinguished, two of them were wigged, one of them was painted and had a spot shaped like a crescent moon affixed to one cheek. One of the two in wigs looked up as they approached the table. His eyes were dark and piercing. He wasn't young, Ken could tell from his jowls and the lines around his eyes, but he did appear to be fairly fit. He wasn't as large as many men his age despite the fat that was under his chin. His skin was pitted and marked him as a survivor of the pox.
He studied them and Ken felt a chill travel down his spine.
"I see we have some uninvited guests," his voice rumbled out of his mouth.
The others at the table glanced from their cards to study them as well.
"You are correct, Sir," Yohji said forcing a smile. "But having heard such interesting tales of your establishment we decided to come see for ourselves. I hope our being here isn't inconvenient."
"As it happens it is extremely inconvenient, Sir," the gentleman countered folding his cards and laying them on the table. "If I had wanted the patronage of the King's nephews then you would have received invitations, I assure you."
"Then you know us, Sir," Yohji said his smile fading.
"Who doesn't know his Highness, Prince Yohji Kudou and his cousin the recently discovered, Duke Ken Hidaka?" he asked sarcastically.
"Who indeed," Yohji muttered eying the black haired man who still stood behind them.
The gentleman's eyes flicked from Yohji to Ken and he chuckled.
"Your dear cousin is turning green," he said.
"It's the smoke," Yohji said after studying Ken. "He isn't used to such indulgences."
"Ah," the gentleman said with another chuckle. He directed his attention to the other wigged gentleman at the table who'd been watching them rather anxiously. He was as different from his associate as anyone could be. He appeared to be startlingly thin with sunken cheeks and a long, straight nose. "I doubt they are here alone," the gentleman said to him. "Better go check on your little whore, Pilkington."
Jumping as if he'd been struck the thin man sprang to his feet and stalked quickly from the room.
"Pilkington?" Yohji said softly. "Hedley Pilkington formerly of Asataiyo?"
The gentleman's eyes narrowed at him.
"Your cousin looks ill, Sir," he addressed the Prince coldly. "Perhaps we should remove to a more private room with cleaner air."
"My thought exactly," Yohji said with a nod.
vvvvvvvvvvvv
Ran and Omi found themselves in what had once been the inn's kitchen. A large work table filled the center of the room and cabinets of serving dishes lined the walls. Pots for boiling, pans for frying, and enormous kettles hung from hooks over the monstrous fireplace on the far side of the room. But judging by the looks of things, they guessed it hadn't been used to its potential for a long time. The table wasn't dusty but grimy and hadn't been cleaned. Although the things hanging over the fireplace were obviously well used the nicer serving dishes in the cupboards were covered in cobwebs. A small pile of plates set on the floor beside the fireplace suggested that they were the only ones in daily use.
Even the fire was half the size of what the firebox could hold. It crackled cheerily rather than roared and was the only source of light in the room, leaving most of the kitchen in shadow.
"This looks like the only other thing still used," Ran said pointing out the dumbwaiter. He lifted the door and reached inside. "The box must be upstairs. The tracks are well oiled and the rope looks new."
"But they can't be feeding anyone, can they?" Omi asked glancing around. "Not with the kitchen in such a state. And where's the cook?"
"Hn," Ran agreed closing the dumbwaiter.
There were several doors across the room. One next to the fireplace and another on the side wall, which was smaller. Ran took a step toward them when there was a noise on the stairs. He grabbed Omi and dragged him into the darkest corner of the room. They'd taken the precaution of wearing their darkest evening clothes and coats and with luck wouldn't be noticed. They tucked themselves in as tight as they could between a cabinet full of pewter and what appeared to be an old butter barrel.
Seconds later the door opened and a young man in fine livery peered round the door. He looked at the interior of the room a moment before jumping like a startled colt at the sound of the dumbwaiter starting to move. He silently shut the door and dashed across the room to the door beside the fireplace. Pausing only long enough to peek out it he was gone just as the dumbwaiter box settled and the sound of the door above the kitchen closed. Another set of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs and a young woman in a serving uniform entered.
She opened the dumbwaiter and pulled out the tray that fit inside. Humming softly she crossed the room to the side door and tugged it open. After taking a look inside sh went to the fireplace and took a taper out of a tin cup set on the mantel, lit it and headed into the dark beyond the little door. The sounds of clinking glass reached their ears and before too long the young woman had reappeared. Her tray was now covered with bottles and she set it on the table in order to blow out and replace the taper in the tin cup. Then she retrieved her tray, shoved it back into the dumbwaiter and left the kitchen as she'd entered.
As her footsteps ascended the stairs they crept from the corner. Moments later they heard her pulling the dumbwaiter up, its load of bottles clinking as it went.
Ran ignored it and went to the door she'd entered while Omi retrieved and relit her taper. Together they stepped into the gloomy dark of what turned out to be a pantry. But rather than being stocked with supplies the shelves were full of bottles of various sizes and shapes. A few toward the back were sealed and labeled, but most were merely corked.
Ran lifted one down and unstopped it. He took a delicate sniff before pulling back abruptly.
"Gin," he said offering Omi a sniff.
"Nasty," his servant agreed. "So, now we know what they're drinking. Or at least some of them."
"Those appear to be fine bottles of port, brandy, and burgundy," Ran said squinting at the labeled bottles. He didn't touch them but replaced the one he'd been holding. "So they do have some better stuff, but my guess is they're selling the gin to those who patronize the establishment. They probably make it here."
They left the pantry and replaced the taper.
"Who do you suppose the young lad in livery was?" Ran asked a they moved toward the exit he had taken.
"Judging by his hasty departure I'd say we aren't the only uninvited visitors here this evening," Omi replied.
"Did you recognize the livery?" Ran asked.
"It looked familiar, yes. Very fine," Omi answered. "Not unlike that worn by your mother's groomsmen."
"Really?" Ran asked pausing with his hand on the latch.
"Well, I couldn't make out the colors in this light, but the design was the same."
Ran snorted.
"Not likely," he muttered opening the door. "But it does suggest that I may not be their only target."
The Earl looked out into a long hallway. It was littered with doors that he guessed contained linen closets and servants' quarters. There were lights showing from under a few. He and Omi stepped through just as the distant sound of a door slamming followed by heavy feet on the stairs reached their ears.
"That's no maid," Omi whispered.
"Hn," Ran agreed and they proceeded into the hall and down its length at a rapid walk.
Half way along it was crossed by another hall that traveled from the front of the inn to the back, where it ended in a door that looked ajar. At the head of the intersection there was another smaller staircase and as they paused another set of heavy feet began to descend them.
Together they darted to the end of the hall and went through the slightly open door, closing it softly behind them.
"Think we've been discovered?" Omi asked.
"There's little doubt," Ran muttered.
He scanned the room they were in. It was some sort of antechamber with a single door set in the center of each wall. Two sconces across the room were lit but no other light was evident from under the doors.
"Check the doors," Ran commanded as he himself pressed an ear to the one they'd just come through.
The two sets of feet came together and there was a harried conversation which Ran couldn't make out. One voice was high and whiny, the other deep and gruff. The jangling of a set of keys signaled movement and the two men began approaching the little room they were in.
"Omi?" Ran hissed, turning to his young servant.
"Got it," he replied and swung open the door to Ran's left as he tucked his pick away.
They dashed inside as quietly as they could, closed the door and shot the bolt. Then took up positions on either side of the door before even glancing around them. Not that they could see much. There was no candle or sconce lit, and no fire or even a fireplace in evidence. The room was cold and utterly dark.
Outside the door they heard the two men enter the antechamber and check all the doors, including theirs'.
"All snug," said the deep voice.
"Perhaps the Earl isn't here after all," said the high voice with a hint of relief. "Perhaps Mr. Smith was wrong."
"Mr. Smith is rarely wrong about anything," said the deep voice. "More likely we haven't found him yet. The side door was unlocked so he's bound to be in here somewhere. Better try upstairs."
They left the antechamber and closed the door behind them. Ran released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and glanced at Omi.
"Do you think you could locate a candle somewhere?" the young man whispered.
"Aa," Ran said and felt along the wall until he located a sconce. He took up the glass and removed the candle. "Here."
He handed it to Omi and there was a sharp snap and a flash of light. Then the candle was lit and Omi handed it back as he shook out his fingers and shoved them into his mouth.
"Good thinking, Omi," Ran said softly, crushing the remains of the small glass tube into the stone floor. "I should've thought to bring matches."
"I only brought one," Omi admitted. "Got burned the last time I had more than one in my pocket. They break too easily."
"One is all we needed," Ran said and turned to face the room. "Now, let's see what we can find."
vvvvvvvvvvvv
Aya shot through what appeared to be an old kitchen with nary a glance. She went straight for what she thought was the door out and found herself in a hallway. She retained enough of her wits to remember to close the kitchen door quietly then bolted down the hall to the other end only to find the door there locked. Dashing back she discovered another hall crossed the first one and she spent several moments hopping back and forth from one foot to the other trying to decide whether she should take the stairs there or try the door at the other end.
A noise in the kitchen decided her and she scampered down the hall and through the door. But it only led to a small room with three locked doors. So after taking a moment to cringe and flail her arms uselessly she dashed back down the hall to the stairs. But upon reaching them, and hearing the ruckus that was going on above her head, she lost her nerve and began looking for another option.
She could, she supposed, check every door in the hallway. But that would take time and as there were several other sounds from the kitchen she felt sure her time was running out. Then she spotted the small cupboard door under the stairs. It swung open easily but she couldn't see what was inside as it was pitch dark.
"And probably full of spiders," she said frowning in distaste. "This is what I get for dressing like a man and sneaking about. Lesson well learned, I suppose."
She hesitated a little longer at the thought of spiders and wondered if anyone would miss one of the sconce candles that were lighting the foot of the stairs. But just as she was reaching for one the door that led into the kitchen opened and without another thought she wrapped her cloak around her, took her hat in her hand, and folded herself into the cramped space of the cupboard. Just managing to tuck her foot in and swing the door closed before the footsteps coming stealthily along the hall reached her.
As they did Aya jumped as the door above her at the head of the stairs opened and a heavy set of feet began to descend quickly, and loudly. She had to cover her ears against the noise and was glad when the person reached the bottom.
"Have you seen anyone?" asked a high, whiny voice apparently belonging to the man who'd just descended. "Mr. Smith seemed to think the Earl might be here."
Aya's ears pricked up.
"Well, if he is he won't get far," replied a much deeper voice. "Not without these," he added and shook what sounded like a large ring of keys.
"Perhaps we should check," said whiny. "Just to be sure."
To Aya he sounded more than a little worried.
"He must be the blackmailer," she thought and cracked the cupboard door to get a look at him.
Two men were walking away from her down the hall that led to the room of locked doors. The one in the lead was tall and broad and had a slight limp, the one following was thin as a reed. He was better dressed as well and had on a wig. Aya guessed that he was the owner of the whiny voice and possibly Ran's blackmailer. She watched as they stepped through the door into the little room and waited to see what would happen next.
She could hear them exchange a few words and then they were coming back again. She closed the cupboard door again and listened.
"Before doing that won't you let me check on my little helper?" Mr. whiny voice asked. "Or give me the key?"
"Mr. Smith entrusted the keys to me," Mr. deep voice answered sharply.
"But it was his suggestion that I come and check on her," Mr. whiny voice cried.
"Alright. I'll go," Mr. deep voice relented. "Alone. You know what a squall she puts up whenever she sees you."
"But she belongs to me."
"You're too rough with her. It's on account of you that she tried to run," Mr. deep voice stated. "Then where would you be? I'll go alone. Wait in the kitchen. I'll find you there."
Aya cracked open the cupboard door again and watched as Mr. whiny voice headed off to the kitchen she'd run through while the tall Mr. deep voice turned and moved toward the room of locked doors again.
"Not only blackmail, but an imprisoned woman," Aya thought. "The fiends."
Any fear or nerves that she'd been experiencing were long gone. She felt the weight of the pistol in her coat encouraging her righteous anger. She heard the door to the kitchen open and close just as she hardened her resolve. These low men would not get away with it.
Opening the cupboard door fully she intended to crawl out but got caught in her cloak and it took a moment to struggle free. As liberated as she felt in the breeches the several layers of heavy coats were beginning to wear on her patience. Not to mention getting a tad too warm.
Aya rolled out of the cupboard and laid in a sprawl at the intersection of the two hallways before climbing to her feet. She remembered to adjust the wig, which had flipped backward, and to retrieve her hat before starting off down the hall, pistol in hand.
vvvvvvvvvvvv
Ran and Omi moved cautiously into the room. The candle didn't cast too much light and they were afraid of tripping over something and making noise. They'd only gone a few short steps when the heavier pair of feet were heard returning and Ran turned from the door fully in order to block the light with his body. As he did so the candle illuminated something that made him go stiff.
The steps stopped in the antechamber and they heard a key in a lock and a door opening. But it wasn't theirs' so they relaxed marginally. Once the door was open the feet moved on and Omi turned from watching the door and gasped as he caught sight of what appeared to be a monster.
Ran, who'd had time to study it, moved closer and held the candle out. It proved to be a wooden mask hanging on a hook above a long black cloak. It was painted red with black eye sockets, and it had a long hooked nose like a beak. The whole thing together looked sinister and sent a shiver down Omi's spine. Ran moved deeper into the room illuminating more cloaks and masks of all shapes and colors. There was also a crate of candles in various colors and another of objects he didn't want to guess the purpose of.
"I suppose they like to have masquerades?" Omi suggested tentatively.
"Or something like it," Ran snorted. "Come on."
He turned back to the door just as another set of footsteps passed by. This set moving more stealthily and much quieter than the first.
"It's time we found Ken and Yohji and departed," Ran whispered, blowing out the candle.
"But what about your blackmailer?" Omi asked.
"He will cease to be a problem after the King's men raid this place," Ran replied. "We'll collect the others and summon the authorities. Let them deal with this rat's nest."
Omi blinked but followed as Ran slipped back out the door. They paused briefly to look through the now open middle door. Another hallway stretched back toward the end of the wing lined with more closed doors. One at the end on the left was open and light flickered out into the hall. Ran ignored it and made his way back toward the kitchen with Omi close behind.
"We'll go back the way we came and try the next floor up," Ran said over his shoulder.
"But it seems as if they've been discovered," Omi said cautiously. "Someone's surely on the lookout for us."
"Then we'll fight our way to them," Ran stated and grasped the hilt of his sword as he swung the kitchen door open. He came to a sudden stop just inside as his eyes settled on a thin, sallow faced man indulging in a sip of brandy before the fire.
Upon seeing Ran the man let out a shriek and dropped his glass.
"You are here!" he cried taking a step back and falling against the table.
Ran didn't hesitate to draw his sword.
vvvvvvvvvvvvv
Ken and Yohji followed their bewigged host from the parlor and up the central staircase, prompted to do so by the rather large black haired man who'd escorted them from the dining room. As they went both the Duke and the Prince looked about them with interest. It was clear that at one time the inn had been quite prodigious.
"May I compliment you, Sir, on your choice of hovels," Yohji said as they came off the stairs and began moving along a wide hall to their right, along the front of the building. "I imagine at one time it was quite lovely."
"I would mind my tongue if I were you, Sir," the gentleman replied. "Don't presume that your relation to the throne will be a determent to me."
Ken glanced sharply at his cousin who frowned narrowly at the man's back.
"And just what do you intend, Sir?" Yohji demanded.
"I haven't quite decided yet," the man replied. "So an improvement in your manners may be beneficial."
Yohji didn't say anything else and in the sudden silence a cry from inside the room they were passing caused Ken to jump in surprise. He stared at the door but the man behind them waved him on. In the quiet of the hallway he became aware of a great deal of subtle sounds coming from nearly every door they passed. The creak of furniture, quiet moans and gasps, and the occasional shout had his face heating up again.
"I guess Omi was right," he muttered as he caught the Prince's eye.
His cousin winked but his face held no real humor.
Toward the end of the hall they were shown through a door and into what turned out to be a lavish drawing room. At its center was a large ornate desk with several chairs set around it. Along the walls there were several settees and arm chairs, some quite lovely. Three candelabras were fully lit as was a chandelier making it the brightest room they'd seen so far.
"Come in, gentlemen, and please be seated," their host said as he crossed the room and took his own seat behind the desk. "may I offer you some port or brandy?"
"Thank you, no," Yohji said following the man to the desk and taking a seat across from him.
Ken decided to remain standing. So far he hadn't felt overtly threatened, not until what the man had said in the hallway. But he was far from comfortable and wanted to be able to move quickly if the situation called for it. He knew he was much faster and stronger than he appeared and he was willing to bet that Yohji was counting on that should the situation turn really sour.
"Now," the man said steepling his fingers and peering at the Prince with his dark eyes, "I assume you are here about your cousin's little predicament."
"Actually no," Yohji replied. "At least we weren't, but since you mention it, that was Hedley Pilkington formerly of Asataiyo, correct?"
"Yes," the man answered inclining his head.
"Ah, I see," Yohji said with a smile. "The man Reginald Misekake borrowed money from. He hoped to engage his sister Kate to him, didn't he? And use her dowry as repayment?"
"I believe that was the case."
"He's a friend of your's, is he?" Yohji asked.
"A client," the man answered. "Since the Earl proved to be the near ruin of poor Mr. Pilkington then who better to repay him?"
"I think you'll find it was Reginald who ruined him," Yohji countered. "Or Mr. Pilkington's own poor choice of friends. But wasn't he paid upon the settlement of Reginald's debts?"
"According to Mr. Pilkington not nearly enough," their host stated. "One could easier get blood from a stone than money from a dead man. He is determined, I'm afraid. And has some very interesting things to say about your two cousins."
Ken could feel the man looking at him but kept his face turned away. He was not going to reveal anything if he could help it and continued to study the many paintings decorating the walls as he listened.
"But now things have become a tad more difficult," their host said turning back to Yohji. "Tell me, why have you chosen to grace us with your presence exactly?"
Yohji's answer was interrupted by Ken who gasped and pointed at a particularly large portrait of a woman. He'd initially just scanned it, but had come back almost immediately when her face caught his eye.
"Isn't that Asuka?" he asked.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Author's Note: Our friend Mr. Pilkington was mentioned briefly in the last story but did not put in an appearance.