A/N: A good New Year to everyone! Hope it finds you all well. A lot has been happening, but I am back with the next bit of the tale. Now you may be asking, "Where have you been all this time, MDGeistMD02?"
Apparently, I was off writing this bloody huge chapter, ugh.
UPDATE: This chapter has been updated as of April 7, 2019.
Favors
Chapter 10
Dealing with Lucretia Dent
Part 1
A Level of Refinement
The Twenty-seventh Day of the Fourth Month, the Month of Rain, 1837
Journeymen Row, in the Old Waterfront District
Half past Nine in the morning
…
…
Lace and tassels.
That was the first thought James had as Tuddleston and he entered The Fluttering Heart, a pleasure establishment in Journeymen Row, a well-known neighborhood in the Old Waterfront district north of the Wrenhaven. The white and black three-story building was located close to the Olkhein Docks ensuring travelers from the Wrenhaven River could find the brothel with little difficulty.
Once past the ivory-painted double doors, the visitors' senses were confronted by soft, trilling music from an audiograph player and faint incense of a peculiar odor. The walls were lined with cream-colored wallpaper accented with gold paisley designs swirling in some odd pattern. Black iron stoves of ornately garish construction heated the main foyer where a few half-dressed women were lounging lazily about on gold felt couches, or unusually shaped armchairs. The numerous end tables held shaded lamps, lit candelabras, or statuary of dubious structure and the large floor-to-ceiling windows were obscured with heavy golden curtains.
Despite this lavish presentation, the items were further enhanced by some questionable addition of lace, fringe, or a string of tassels that dangled from nearly everything. The arm coverings for the divans had tassels of a matching gold, and their entire bottom edges were lined with fringe hanging to the floor. Lampshades had the same odd attachments, as did the robes worn by some of the women. The drapes were even worse with both lace around the edges and numerous braids woven together for the tie backs. It seemed the goal was to include some form of trimming to everything, to add a show of class, a taste of refinement.
However, these unnecessary embellishments only made the place seem cheap and gaudy, at least to James. Luckily, Tuddleston had been elected to take the lead on this jaunt and as usual his gregarious nature shone through.
"A good morning to you, dear sirs," a sing-song voice called from behind a small gold-painted desk. "What specialties are we interested in today?"
The speaker was an attractive woman who appeared in her early thirties, with a full figure that filled out an elegant turquoise-colored dress of expensive make. Her long, brown hair was pulled up and woven into some fashionable design atop her head and held in place by an ornate gold and black comb. Her smile seemed sincere and her already pretty features were elegantly accented with a pale pink lip balm and light rouge.
"Ah my dear lady," the large redheaded man replied, "currently I seek an interview with Lady Echkart, if you please."
The woman stood, a broad smile upon her lips.
"I am Lady Belinda Echkart," she announced. "How may I-" she paused and then her arm swept the room, "how may we be of service?"
"Lady Echkart, very good," Tuddleston replied then he removed his hat and stepped forward. He spoke quieter. "I wish to, eh, interview you, for an extended arrangement if all goes well."
"We offer all kinds of services here. Anything you may fancy."
"Splendid," Tuddleston's voice dropped even lower. "I will get right to the marrow of the bone then: I have a ship in my employ of decent size. My captain's a good man." With this last statement he glanced back at James before looking upon the madam once more. "The crew, however, is a somewhat rowdy bunch and, ehm, in need of a bit of tension release shall we say. They've been at sea for a long while now. I am looking to make accommodations for their shore leave, of an extended nature if things could be arranged."
The woman's face lit up with understanding.
"A party is it, then?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Let's retire to my office where we can discuss such details in a more private setting." She looked over at a petite, pretty girl with short dark hair standing by one of the iron stoves. "Patti, bring up some additional teaware and treats for my guests. Quick now!"
The girl nodded and promptly made off for a side door.
Lady Echkart led her two guests through a back entrance and into a short hallway that split off into a stairway to the left and a large wooden door at the far end. It was through the latter that their host beckoned them.
"This way, gentlemen."
She unlocked the door and made to open it when Tuddleston stepped forward.
"Allow me," he said, reaching out and turning the doorknob.
"A gentleman you are." She smiled and then stepped inside. "Please sit." She indicated a pair of well-made comfortable chairs near a large fireplace, which her visitors quickly took.
The office, which seemed to also be the madam's personal room, was excessively adorned like the foyer beforehand. A large bed with a luxurious, cream-colored, ruffled duvet covering it dominated the southern wall, almost ridiculously so, while a huge, severe-looking dark oak armoire stood along the eastern wall nearby, its contents securely locked away. The wallpaper here was a robin egg blue and the room was embellished with gold highlights.
Perhaps it was the fact his expertise focused primarily on martial skills and tactics that James found himself baffled as to what sort of sense the design scheme was trying to evoke. His thoughts on the matter were pushed aside as their hostess stirred the ebbing coals in the fireplace. She replaced the poker, and then wheeled a large, wide serving cart in front of them.
Upon the cart was an odd octagonal bronze container, the base of which rested upon four bowed metal legs. There appeared to be a vent at the top, and in the front was a faucet, with a key in it. Their hostess opened a back panel just below a pair of handles on the odd device, grabbed one of the larger coals from the fireplace with a set of small tongs and placed it within the cavity.
"Don't worry, my gentlemen," she said in her lilting voice. "I replaced both the leaves and the water only this morning as I like a good pot to be ready just about any time of the day."
James stared at the unknown thing that was apparently a kettle brewer of some type, but Tuddleston spoke before he could utter any inquiries.
"Ah, a Tyvian samovar!" he exclaimed in a happy tone. "Quite nice, quite nice indeed." He looked at the contraption. "Though I don't think I know this particular model."
"A connoisseur are we then, Mister…?" she left the question open.
"Tuddles," Tuddleston replied, using the shortened version of his name that Erin always called him. "Albert Tuddles."
Before coming to Lady Echkart's place of business, the pair had decided to not offer their full names, but rather easily-remembered aliases. If caught it a lie later on, they could either suggest that their host must have heard wrong, or that they were hiding their identities slightly before committing to anything, as merchants and the aristocracy often did when visiting a brothel.
The madam looked next at the navy man.
"James, milady," he replied to her unspoken question. "Just James will do."
"Very well," she returned, then focused on Albert again with a broad smile. "But yes, the design is kabachok I believe is how it is pronounced, though I don't really speak a word of Old Tyvian." She giggled before continuing on. "And it is a new design, just offered late last year! A little treat I gave myself."
At that moment, a figure appeared at the doorway: the short girl from the foyer earlier and she was carrying a large silver tray.
"Here Patti," the madam called. "Bring it in. Don't let our guests sit waiting."
The courtesan nodded and made her way to the cart, trying to keep the tray even. Lady Echkart's eyes widened with pleasure at the items sitting upon it.
"Well done," she said, grabbing a smaller platter upon which sat some rolled doughy confections dusted with a loose powdery substance. "Butterballs, my gentlemen. Or Tyvian tea cakes if you prefer. Rich and delicious, with some chopped pecans mixed in and a sprinkling of confectioner's sugar. Please have some."
Tuddleston snatched one of the tea cakes with a pleased smile followed by James.
Balancing the tray with one hand, the girl grabbed a small bowl of sugar and transferred it down to the cart. She then placed two of the sets of teacups and saucers next to it. Removing them unbalanced the tray, however, and the third set pitched forward. The girl was barely able to catch it before it tumbled off the tray down to the hard, wooden floor below.
"Useless speck!" Lady Echkart growled at the girl's clumsy efforts. The madam's pretty features twisted into an ugly mask of contempt as she snatched the last cup and saucer from the girl's grasp. She held the items up in front of the courtesan's face. "This tea set is Chasimiro. Imported directly from the city of Bastillian in Serkonos. Your entire life will never be worth its value."
The girl blanched and hugged the now-empty tray protectively in front of her.
"And worse," the angry madam continued with a step forward, "you forgot. The Bloody. Cream!"
"P-please, forgive, f-forgive me," the girl whispered with trembling lips. She pulled back, eyes wide with dread.
Something rankled in James at the woman's outburst. His shoulders tensed, his lip twitched, and his free hand balled into a fist. He was about to lean forward when Tuddleston spoke.
"Hm, the sharp bitter contrast of the tea will offset the sweetness of the cakes," the large man interjected as he took a bite of the confection. He enjoyed the taste for a moment, then continued on. "A bit of sugar to the brew perhaps, to weaken its bite, but I think the cream would have been too much. A fortuitous oversight, my dear lady." He turned to their hostess and winked. "And with your obvious knowledge of Tyvian delicacies, I wonder if this whole 'forgotten cream' display may not just be something you planned. A charade, perhaps? To keep us from adding something so clearly unwarranted. I must thank you, my dear lady, for saving us from making such a social blunder in front of so charming a hostess."
Lady Echkart turned to Tuddleston, her contemptuous scowl waning. She blinked, gauging what the large man had said, and then a quick, demure smile lit her face.
"Difficult to get anything past an observant gentleman like you, eh my kind sir? Yes, the cream is not necessary. No need to retrieve it now." She turned back to the girl and her eyes narrowed. "But I'll deal with your clumsiness later, after these good men have departed."
The girl gasped in dismay but nodded nonetheless.
"Hold a moment," James said, unable to remain silent. He glanced towards Tuddleston. "Sir, you mentioned that due to the extra earnings this month, I would be able to have whichever girl I chose, correct? I am drawn to this young woman here." Looking up at the courtesan, he asked, "Patti, is it not?"
Surprised at being addressed, she took a moment to respond but finally said, "Yessir. Patti it is."
He smiled reassuringly to her before leveling a stern gaze towards their hostess.
"I would appreciate her company. I fancy her." He leaned forward and in a strict, deliberate tone said, "Unmarred, of course."
The lady shrank back under his angry glare, uncertainty edging across her features until Tuddleston spoke again.
"Ah, yes. A good man must be kept happy." He plunked three gold pieces, worth ten each, down upon the cart. After a moment he added two more, for a total of fifty Coin. "To guarantee young Patti's physical condition doesn't worsen anytime soon. I am aware that discipline must be maintained, but Captain James does bring me a nice profit each month. I'm sure you understand."
His quick grin set the madam at ease.
"Of course, of course," she said with a half-hearted chuckle, her own smile returning once more. "The customer is always correct." She turned back to the girl and waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Bzzz-bzzz. Off you go then, my little bee. Back to work. Bzzz-bzzz."
Stunned at the turn of events, Patti bowed quickly. She shifted the tray to one hand and grasped James' wrist with the other, a happy grin upon her face. "Thank ye, sir. I promise ta take good care of ye, sir, all proper then."
James nodded and the girl departed.
"That aside, let's get to the matter at hand," Tuddleston said, settling back into his chair.
"Indeed," the lady returned as she filled his cup and handed it over. She repeated the process for James.
"Now then," the scribe continued on, "my merchantman will lay over for six days. In that time my crew of twelve, not including my good captain here, will have a well-deserved shore leave coming to them. A pair or two may be required to watch over my property, of course, but the rest will have adventure in their minds and Coin in their pouches. I would appreciate it if they were corralled, so to speak, lest they wander off and find themselves in trouble with the Watch."
As Tuddleston spoke, the madam nodded ever so slightly, eyes glistening. She was no doubt calculating just how much of the fictional sailors' Coin she could relieve them of.
James did his best to hide his scowl of disdain, sipping from his tea to help mask it. He was not quite prepared for the bitter taste, however, and choked on the brew. Tuddleston and Lady Echkart both looked over at him.
"Are you alright my dear?" she asked. "Need more sugar?"
Shaking his head, he recovered quickly and used the interruption to turn the subject of the conversation.
"The other matter, sir?" he asked Tuddleston.
"Ah, quite right, quite right," the larger man said with a well-practiced sigh of discontentment. He focused on the lady. "How is security here? Are your girls trustworthy? No worries of blackmail, or loose tongues, I hope?"
The madam blinked in surprise before assuming a reassuring tone.
"My good sirs, this is not the Golden Cat," she said, confidence in her voice. "My girls know how to behave. As for protection, I have a few reliable lads I can call upon not far away. This place is secure enough."
"Then you deserve my honesty," he said. "With no small embarrassment, I must admit to some trouble with a fellow merchant who frequents this area. Stavros by name. He isn't one of your clients, is he? I don't wish my crewmen involved in any sort of disturbance with his men."
At the mention of the name, the lady's smile vanished and she sat up straight. "I have no knowledge of a man by that name."
"That is good," Tuddleston said. "I seem to have slighted him by offering the same merchandise that he does."
The lady's eyes narrowed. "You did not mention you were a smuggler."
James leaned forward. "Nor did we mention that Stavros was either, yet you seemed to come to that conclusion rather quickly."
Lady Echkart paled and took a long sip of her tea before responding. "I may have heard a rumor or two, but any knowledge I possess is rather limited."
"My dear lady," Tuddleston said in an earnest tone. "I have no plans to cut into his business. I merely offer to trade in spices, and exotic cuisine from Serkonos. The variety of which is not yet approved by certain local authorities here."
The lady tilted her head. "Just spices and food?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion. "How then are you having trouble with him?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, of course I have no dealings with the man myself, but I've heard from rumormongers that he plies slaves to some of the aristocrats for their mines. The Barrymores, the Treachers, the Pendletons, and the like." She reached over to grab a small folding hand fan from a side table and waved it rapidly in front of her face. "Such talk is a bit much for one of my constitution, you must understand."
"Thank you for enduring it," the scribe said, his smile never wavering. "It's just when we heard Madame Dent was a rival of his, we-"
"Rival?" the lady asked with a belligerent tone. "Lucretia Dent? That callous vixen is a partner in all of his nefarious doings."
James and Tuddleston glanced at each other in uncertainty before focusing on her once again.
"Her partner, you say?" James asked, making sure he heard right.
"Yes. She sells her little tarts to him for nothing and he peddles them off to the Void knows where." She gasped dramatically and waved the fan quicker. "How could she do that to those deprived young girls, who only seek solace from a caring lady? Those poor, poor dears. Lucretia Dent is a vixen, a wench most foul I say!"
"Well then we shall steer clear of this man," James assured her. "I suppose he is located in this area, then?"
"Why would I know such a thing?" she asked indignantly.
"Because you are an intelligent woman and obviously care for your girls," Tuddleston said. "You have probably already deduced the location of his property and you would advise your girls to avoid him at all costs. We merely seek to do the same."
Her eyes darted back and forth between her guests as a light gasp escaped her. Finally she spoke, "He has a residence in the Estates District. I-I think he lives on Trobaum Road, near the checkpoints. But I have no business with him, I promise you."
Tuddleston cast a sideways glance at James who gave a quick nod.
"I do like you, my Lady Echkart," the large man said with a smirk as he turned back to her. "You're not afraid to announce your true feelings, and the assurances of your girls' candor are most welcome." He laid down another five gold coins and then he stood, James following suit. "I think this place will do. Once we have settled in, I shall try and contact you again, as soon as possible."
The lady looked worried, but still palmed the coins in front of her. "I apologize for any outbursts I may have made. Please do not hold them against me."
"Indeed not," Tuddleston said with a wink, as James and he made to leave. "I have a firm understanding of the way you do business, and I shall not forget it."
"That woman was atrocious," Tuddleston groused as James and he entered Ma Nettles' Hostel. "I agree it was a good plan to go to Lucretia Dent's main business rival for information, but still she was abominable."
"Oh?" James replied. "I wasn't sure as you only mentioned that four times now. Maybe the fifth will make it sink in."
"Mock as you like," his friend said as he placed his hat on a shelf near the large mirror in the hostel's foyer. "Perhaps you should lead the interview with the next one. Let's see how far your impertinence gets you with Madame Dent."
"Perhaps I should take the lead next time."
"This will make great sport, I'll wager."
"I can be polite, charming even, when the situation calls for it."
The large man let out a snort. "That aside, is it even necessary to interview Madame Dent? Though smugglers themselves, the Merry Boyz weren't actually the ones who crated up young Adrienne. It seems this Stavros that Captain Landon mentioned is the villain in charge of delivering the girls. Perhaps we should shift our focus to him?"
"If the information is correct, he is definitely one to speak with." James shook his head. "However, I don't know how much I believe the source. I don't have Vivianna's deductive skills, but I consider myself decent at reading people. Lady Echkart seemed to be holding something back."
"An officer's training to be sure," Tuddleston agreed. "A veteran such as yourself is skilled at reading the terrain. Overt or otherwise. I'll back your instincts then and follow your lead."
James nodded in appreciation just as Ma Nettles rounded the corner.
"Here fer lunch then, you two?" the woman asked in her gruff tone. "Pigs' knuckles an' greens are what we're havin'. Boiled through."
Tuddleston blanched at the mention of the dubious fare, but James just shook his head.
"No time for that, Ms. Nettles," he said. "Is everyone present?"
"Your shadow man's still skulkin' 'bout the dining hall. Been a chore gettin' him to eat proper, but I'll see it through, jus' you wait. The brat and Etiennette are upstairs and'll be down shortly. I jus' called'em fer lunch. The others are out in the garden house with Mr. Jasper."
As if on cue Ademar and Rollo entered from the backdoor, Otto and Adrienne in their wake.
"…but it was a good haul anyway," Rollo was saying as they continued forward, a wicked smirk upon his face. "Even after the cut I hadta give the Watchmen."
Ademar shook his head in disgust, obviously not agreeing with whatever questionable deed Rollo was describing. Otto was grinning and nodding at the tale. Adrienne just smiled at the short man as she trailed behind him like a puppy.
"Master James," Ademar greeted as he noticed them in the foyer. "How fares your investigation?"
"I'm going to need Rollo and you to get ready, armed but with just traveling clothes. I want you both to accompany us on this next part."
"Off ta see Dent then, are we?" Rollo asked.
"Yes," James returned then looked past him to Adrienne. "But first, I have some questions for you."
"Yes sir?" she replied, surprised at suddenly being addressed.
"Right before you were given to the Merry Boyz, what happened to you? Can you describe the events?"
The girl seemed uncertain and glanced at Rollo.
"S'alright lass," he said quietly. "Nuthin's gonna happen to ya. Ya have my word."
She nodded, a hesitant smile working its way to her face at his reassuring words. She took a deep, steadying breath and then began.
"The night beforehand, I was taken from Madame Dent's brothel and brought to an area by the Wrenhaven I'd not seen before. I was placed in the custody of a man who was waiting there to meet us. I think it may have been the eastern side of the Olkhein Docks, but I am not sure." The smile faded into a frown. "I was frightened by the odd events and not listening to their conversation very well. I'm sorry."
James waved off the apology. "Did you hear the name Stavros at all? I gave the name to Etiennette, Erin, and Otto to investigate but never asked you directly. Do you know of him?"
The girl pondered a moment.
"I think - I think that was the name of the man who met us. He was tall, right? With gray hair and a scar under his left eye? I only got brief glimpses of him when we first arrived at the meeting point and a few times after. He held a lantern close to his face to signal us and show the location of the wagon he had waiting for me."
"I don't honestly know what he looks like," he admitted. "So then you were placed in the crate, is this correct?"
"No, sir. The tall man who met us and I traveled alone by horse and wagon a ways along the river. I think we were heading east back to the Estates District, but as there was no moon and the areas we kept to were dark, I can't rightly say. The river was off to our right, so I am merely assuming it was east."
"Back to the Estates District?" Tuddleston asked. "Why would Madame Dent journey all the way to the Old Waterfront District to meet Stavros, if that is who we are to assume the tall man is, only to have her partner travel back to the Estates District? That seems thoroughly unnecessary and illogical."
"It wasn't Madame Dent who took me," the girl corrected him. "It was Marcus."
"Who's Marcus?" James asked.
"He is one of the large men who guards the brothel for Madame Dent."
"One of her more important lieutenants then?"
She shook her head in the negative. "No, sir. He doesn't have much responsibility save watching some of the entryways. Not much else. Kristoff is her headman, quick and dangerous, and in charge of the rest of her guards."
"So Marcus isn't very high up in rank, yet he was the one assigned to bring you to this late night meeting? Alone? And then left immediately thereafter?""
"Yes, sir."
"Hm," James rubbed his chin, assessing the information. "And then?"
"After passing through a dark alley and poorly lit lots, the tall man and I finally stopped at a small dock, one of the straight little ones that, um, jut out into the river. On the dock w-was a dim lamp and two other men waiting for us." She paused as her voice started shaking and took another deep breath. "I was told to get off the wagon and to, uh, to c-climb inside a crate on a small barge just off the dock. I was ordered to keep quiet and th-then sealed in. The pair handed over a pouch that jingled, from some coin I, um, I suppose. And then they t-told the man who brought me to, uh, to make sure her ladyship got her cut for having me snuck out of Lucretia Dent's place."
Rollo noticed her quivering tone and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "Yer doing fine, lass. Brave as can be." He gave her a nod that brought her smile back.
"And that is exactly what the men said?" the navy man asked. "To make sure her ladyship got her cut for having you snuck out of Lucretia Dent's place?"
She swallowed uncomfortably. "I think so, sir. But I'm not completely certain. I was scared and my heart was pounding. I may have heard wrong."
"No, you did well. Thank you. For everything." James tapped his index finger against his upper lip at this new information.
"Whatcha thinkin' then, bucko?" Rollo asked. "We gonna hold back some of our cards, or lay'em down flat onna table and see who's got Nancy?"
"Hm. It's possible I may have gone about this the wrong way. I think we need to show strength here instead of using guile for the time being. Especially if Lucretia Dent is as dangerous as she is made out to be."
He looked to Ademar, Rollo, and Tuddleston.
"We're taking the Tyvian with us. Be prepared for anything."
The Twenty-seventh Day of the Fourth Month, the Month of Rain, 1837
The Estates District
A Quarter past One in the afternoon.
…
…
The address read 27 Rue Manor Lane.
An impressive three-story mansion occupied the tract. Painted an off-white color, with dark gray shingles lining the roof, and displaying a well-conceived amalgamation of older-style columns and modern design, the edifice stood proudly among its neighbors. The addition of a large wing to either side of the original structure with several small balconies dotting the front added to the grandeur.
The grounds held a half-oval gravel-lined path where a few carriages sat quietly waiting, and a smaller cart lane led to a stable tucked off to the side. In between the gravel-path and the main road was set a small garden area and a pair of sturdy oaks, offering some privacy from the outside world while still lending an air of quality to the place. Surrounding the entire affair was an eight foot grey-stone wall, with an additional three feet of wrought iron fence fixed atop it.
It appeared so unlike other brothels of the city, James had to confirm with Rollo that this was the residence of Lucretia Dent. After being assured it was, he led his four companions to the wide double entry doors where they were greeted by a pair of stout men dressed in grey slacks and tailored white shirts with dark gray jackets to help fend off the cold of the late autumnal season.
"Welcome to Lucretia Dent's abode," the one on the right said as he looked them over, before opening the door. "Register your weaponry at the desk. And enjoy your visit."
The main foyer was painted a cool cerulean blue and the furniture within consisted of well-made yet simply-designed divans of light grey and polished oak. A large mirror dominated the southern wall, and cream colored vases held vibrant orchids with dark greenery to offset them. The few pieces of artwork consisted of a single painting in various shades of grey portraying an unnamed landscape hung on the northern wall just left of a winding staircase and a few statues of smooth tones and shapes spread throughout.
A trio of attractive young women were sitting upon one of the divans and chatting quietly. As the companions entered, the women paused in their conversation to look at them; they smiled politely before resuming their discussion.
In the southeastern corner was a large counter reminiscent of a hotel front desk, complete with small bell and registry book, and two doors, one set in the eastern wall and one along the south.
A young woman sat demurely behind the counter wearing a white button-down shirt like the two men at the entrance. She was about five-foot-four and thin, with dusky skin, and pretty, almost exotic features. Her jet black hair was fixed with a half-knot on the top while the rest hung straight down in a very modern style.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she addressed them as they neared. "I am Clarise. I need to collect your arms, please. After that I will assist you with whatever you require."
James stepped forward then.
"We will be glad to follow the rules of your house." He began unbuckling his sword belt and pistol. "I need to speak with Madame Dent."
The girl cocked her eyebrow.
"Oh? You have no appointment."
James finished removing his gear.
"How do you know? You didn't even check your registry."
"I make all of Madame's appointments," she said with certainty. "She has nothing scheduled for the rest of the day."
"That's fine. I'd like to make an appointment for today please. As soon as she is available."
The girl scoffed. "Madame is very busy at the moment. Perhaps later in the week I could fit you in."
"You just said she had no appointments," he reminded her. "If she has nothing scheduled for today, I'm not sure how busy she could possibly be."
The girl narrowed her eyes at being trapped by her own words. She stared up at him for a moment then quickly dinged the bell three times. "Kristoff!" she exclaimed.
James remembered the name that Adrienne had offered: Kristoff, Lucretia's headman.
A figure appeared from the eastern doorway – a solid and exceptionally well-built young man in his late twenties. He appeared of Gristian heritage, clean-shaven with pale skin, blue eyes, and his hair shorn down to a dark stubble. He wore an electric blue shirt and dark slacks with a sword at his side, and a pistol slid smartly through his belt rather than tucked haphazardly into the top of his pants.
"Yes, Clarise?" he said in a clear baritone voice.
"This person wishes to see Madame."
"Alright then," he said with a nod. He looked at James with a friendly smile. "Greetings, sir."
"Greetings." James replied back.
The girl followed with, "He does not have an appointment."
"Ah." The young man's smile lessened and there was a near imperceptible twitch in the corner of his left eye. "Is there something I can do for you, sir? We offer many distractions. Perhaps something to fill the needs of your fine company?" At this, he shifted to look past James at the others. The smile was still friendly, but his eyes darted quickly about the figures of his companions.
James knew what the young man was doing. While maintaining a friendly demeanor he was gauging the strength of James' fellows and noting visible weapons. From both his speech and his mannerisms, he realized the headman was far from just a simple thug. After a moment, Kristoff fixed his gaze upon James once again.
"So, what will it be, sir?"
"I wish merely to speak with Lucretia Dent."
"Then set an appointment and we'll see how that goes, alright?"
"I'd appreciate it if we could see her now."
The headman gave the slightest tilt of his head, but it was enough to signal his men. To the right a lean man silently descended the stairway halting halfway down, a loaded crossbow ready in his grasp. At the same time, another man, larger and taller than even Ademar arrived from the eastern doorway to take up position next to the front desk, just behind Kristoff. Even Clarise, the short girl at the counter, stood up, her right hand falling to the pommel of a previously unseen dirk strapped to her belt, ready to use it as needed.
Both Rollo and Captain Landon had been correct in their estimation of the strength of Lucretia Dent's security; the headman and his guards were quick, prepared, and professional.
"I'm sorry sir," Kristoff apologized, as damnably polite as ever, "but that's not possible." He took a measured step forward, and eased his left hand across his waist until his index and middle fingers were tapping the grip of the pistol. "Perhaps you'd better leave."
Slight, muffled noises sounded behind James; most likely the startled expressions of the three young women on the divan as they moved out of the way of a possible confrontation. Not even five minutes into the building and they were already caught up in a tense situation. Of course, James thought to himself. He sighed; should they survive this encounter he would surely get an earful from Mr. Tuddleston concerning tact and manners.
"What is the meaning of this nonsense?" a clear, feminine voice asked suddenly from the stairway. All the occupants of the foyer looked up at the source of the voice save James and Kristoff.
"My apologies, Madame Dent," the young headman said, eyes never wavering from his opposite. "The situation will be under control shortly."
"Who are you to invade my home?" the voice inquired.
James risked a glance near the top of the stairway and blinked in surprise at the figure standing there. The pale-skinned woman had large brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips and a slim face and nose. Her crimson-colored hair was pulled back, and fixed in a loose ponytail that hung over her left shoulder. Black plum-tinted lipstick and silver-grey eye-shadow accentuated her features.
Her slim figure was bedecked in an older-style, elegant black dress made of excellent cloth trimmed with different types of lace. The low-cut, off the shoulder bodice laced up the back and the skirt had two sidewings, numerous backfolds and a train. Black lace elbow-length gloves and a black hand fan finished her ensemble. Despite the lack of color in her attire, James found her to be the most fascinating example of artwork in the entire room.
She stared hard at him. "I will repeat my question once only: who are you?"
"James Dartley, my Lady Dent," he said.
The woman looked surprised and angled her head. "Dartley?" She seemed to consider the name for a moment before asking, "What is it you wish here?"
"Just a moment of your time," he replied honestly.
"Very well," she announced to the astonishment of everyone; even Kristoff turned to look up at her, uncertain he had heard correctly. "But I won't have your entire troupe uncouthly tromping about my rooms. Two of your companions may accompany you; the others will remain here." She looked to her headman. "Kristoff, escort them up." With that, she turned and made her way back up the stairs.
…
…
James, Rollo, and Tuddleston followed Kristoff and two of his men to a large set of rooms on the second floor. The three Undertakers were escorted to a sitting room that seemed to also double as an office.
The walls were painted a deep azure and a small brass fireplace had been built into the southern outer wall next to a large window overlooking the street. A mahogany roll-top desk, currently closed and locked, and a comfortable chair sat along the northern wall next to a heavy door that was also closed. A small corner divan and three chairs, wooden with grey upholstery, were against the far southeast corner around a small table. A tall mahogany and brass grandfather clock ticked away the seconds along the western wall next to a small picture showing the vast Ocean as seen from the top of a white-stone cliff.
The designs of the furniture and art were uncomplicated and subdued, graceful in their own way. He saw more class and elegance in Madame Dent's simple style than any of Lady Echkart's garish attempts. It was a mark in their hostess's favor and clearly showed a taste of refinement.
He turned to look at the woman. Her hand fan dangled by a cord about her wrist and she was sorting through a set of keys on a large key-ring. His gaze strayed from her face, across her figure, and then along her bare left arm to an exposed tattoo he hadn't noticed before.
Beginning just below her left shoulder, the tattoo resembled three roses in full bloom. They were all attached to the same single stem which wove itself along her arm past her bicep and nearly down to her elbow. The piece had been left devoid of color. Regardless, the bold contour line work was perfect, and while somewhat stylized, it showed the expertise of the artist. So much so, that James recognized the artwork.
"Mercion McCale," he said before he realized he'd spoken aloud.
The woman turned to look at him, an eyebrow arched.
"What was that?"
"Your inkwork. Mercion McCale's style. I've seen it on some of the men I served with. You've been to Potterstead."
She smirked and resumed her examination of the set of keys. "I've been many places, Mr. James Dartley," she stated matter-of-factly. Locating the key she wanted, she finally turned her full attention to him, a wry smile upon her lips. "As for the tattoo, yes, it was created by the young woman in Potterstead. Nicely done, I would say. Each of my little prickly flowers represents a lover or fiancé who promised me the world, while hiding their thorns with pretty imagery."
She angled her arm to observe them better, remnants of some distant memory playing briefly across her face.
"But they're not finished," James said.
She looked at him again. "Not finished? What do you mean?"
"They've not been colored properly. I've seen the artist's completed works. Her skills are impressive."
Lucretia chuckled to herself. "I purposely kept it as an outline. I wanted the flowers empty," she said with narrowed eyes, "Hollow. Like the words of men. They are my constant reminder not to fall into the same trap."
"Not all men go back on their word, Lady Dent."
She scoffed. "I ask that you do not use that title with me, Mr. Dartley; I abhor it. Madame Dent will do."
"Very well."
"And should I meet the man who purports to be a gentleman, keeps his word, and shows me respect, only then shall I consider coloring in my bristly beauties. Until that unlikely day, they shall remain bare." She winked at him then moved to the roll-top desk only to pause and look coyly over her shoulder. "But I think we have business now. That is why you're here, no? To offer me a favor?"
Tuddleston shifted uncomfortably as James merely tilted his head at the woman's revelation.
Lucretia unlocked the desk and slid back the roll-top. "To hurry things along we can get the preliminary inquiries out of the way."
She opened one of the little square drawers at the top of the desk and retrieved a tiny item from within. She closed the drawer, slid the roll-top back into place and locked the desk once more before facing her guests.
"I've noticed no symbol upon a silver field before. The only roses I have seen recently are the three empty ones upon my arm." She indicated her tattoo with a glance. "I've not heard the name, Styverson, was it? Nor do I know any dread Overseers with masks of black and red. I think that about covers all the questions you would ask of me, no?"
"How-?" Tuddleston began.
Lucretia placed her hands on her hips and laughed, before angling her head forward and looking up at them through her eyelashes. "How does any woman know anything? We have our ways. Call it as you will: witchcraft, intuition, foresight, prescience. It is often folly to underestimate us."
"Indeed," James said, genuinely fascinated by the woman in black. "And what else do you know?"
"You are James Dartley, late of the Imperial Navy. You were a commissioned officer aboard, what was the name? The Guardian? An apropos name considering the type of tasks you perform, no?" She shifted her gaze to the scribe. "And you are Albert Tuddleston, the jolly proprietor of the small establishment at Kelling's Close in the South Commons. You call your little band the Undertakers." Finally her eyes settled upon Rollo. "Your little friend is unknown to me; nevertheless, it won't take long to correct that oversight."
James tried to hold back a smile. Both her information and recollection of it were remarkable; however, it wasn't completely accurate. He had abandoned the shop at Kelling's Close four months ago.
"Impressive, Madame Dent," he said, trying to maintain a courteous air. "I was told that your primary trade is information and favors, and you do have a knack for it. Almost everything you said is correct. You won't find us at Kelling's Close anymore, though. For nearly a season now at least."
She was silent a moment and then a dark grin appeared as her trick was exposed. "Very well. I admit I am acting on older information." She opened her hand to reveal a small piece of red paper upon which was stamped a triangle within a larger inverted triangle which she then offered to him. "From a girl who came seeking employment a few months back by the name of Amber Green."
James remembered the small girl hoping to expose the men who had stolen her deceased brother's property. The endeavor ended with the villains in jail, though with the property gone the girl had no place to go. He had given her what money he could get from the criminals' activities as well as a little extra from his own coffers, but the girl said she already had "plans in motion".
"She likes to talk about many things," Lucretia continued on, "and was grateful for the aid you and your companions gave her. You may have this back now that I can put a face to your name."
As he took the paper, her gloved fingers brushed smoothly across his wrist then trailed along the length of his palm before she withdrew with a reserved smile. The action, though enticing, allowed a closer look of the madam's hand fan; the support sticks, normally crafted of wood, had been replaced with thin sharpened steel spikes.
A well-hidden, cunning, and deadly weapon was concealed beneath softness, beauty, and lace. James wondered just how much of the fan's nature was mimicked by its owner. His pondering, though, was interrupted by one of the brothel's courtesans.
A tall, thin girl with a mop of blonde hair came to the partially opened door and knocked sharply. The madam saw the girl and nodded for Kristoff to admit her. The courtesan looked harried, but stopped up short when she noticed James and his fellows. She cast an inquiring glance at Lucretia.
"I ask that you pardon me a moment, but a matter has come up that needs my attention," Lucretia said as she moved to the heavy door set in the northern wall and unlocked it. She opened it wide and ushered both Kristoff and the unknown courtesan through. Beyond was a bedroom, the edges of a large bed with a brass-colored coverlet barely visible as well as what appeared to be a well-crafted vanity.
"It's fine," James said with a nod towards his men. "I would like to confer will my people while you confer with yours."
She nodded in reply as she followed her people.
James turned his back to the bedroom door, which was thankfully left ajar, as Rollo and Tuddleston approached. Tuddelston stood about a foot away from James, as the short criminal moved in front of them then inched slightly to the side to peer between the two taller men. With a grin he looked into the room where Lucretia and her people were in a hushed discussion.
"Well?" James asked.
"Dent's asking the new bint 'how is she?'," Rollo replied, squinting to see the lips of his targets. He mouthed some words then continued. "The bint's sayin' somethin' like 'Victoria's okay, but the cut on her leg with need some time ta mend. Probably leave a scar, too.'"
"Who's Victoria?"
"Another bint from the sound of it," Rollo replied with a shrug. "Dent seems none too pleased and is now talkin' to her headman. 'This can't be allowed to stand. He needs ta learn his place' or somethin' like that."
"What's Kristoff's reply?"
"I can't tell. Big man's back is to me, but his back is tense and he is sayin' somethin'. Now Dent's sayin' 'I don't care how rich Lord Treacher thinks he is, he will not harm any who reside under this roof. If there's an issue we'll call in the mark from Dannerick. Tell him his account's been settled'."
"Lord Treacher?" Tuddleston asked. "Jakob Treacher?"
"Might be," Rollo said with another shrug. "They're not exactly clarifying things fer me, now are they?"
"It's fine," James said before looking at Tuddleston. "I know of a magistrate named Dannerick. Maybe he owes her a favor."
"Having those sorts in her debt and being able to call upon them however she needs does indeed make her quite dangerous," the scribe said, concern playing across his features.
"What're they saying now?" James asked, his attention back on Rollo.
"Dent's suggesting the choice for Treacher being either a 'rat pit' whatever the Void that is, or a trip to the Flooded District and allowing the weepers to 'sort him out'." The short man shook his head and grinned. "She might be a vixen, but I'm beginnin' ta like her style."
James was too, he was forced to admit. Maybe a bit more violent than his own way of doing things, but in the long run Lucretia Dent was not so very different.
"She's brushin' her hand across the headman's cheek now and standin' close ta him," Rollo continued. "I can't quite make out what she's sayin', but I'ma guessin' she's convincin' him ta do what she wanted. Yep, he's noddin'. Chuffer," he finished with a sneer. "Ulp, they're comin' back."
True to Rollo's words, the trio returned from the bedroom and the courtesan left back the way she came.
"My apologies for the distraction," Lucretia said demurely. "Business matters."
"Anything we can help with?" James offered as he turned back to face her.
"No, but thank you." She smiled sweetly, but her gaze was fixed upon him, searching. "Now then, what is it you wish from me that was so important? Surely it was not merely to see my private rooms. I usually charge two-hundred Coin a night for that privilege."
"Two-hundred a night?" James returned, raising an eyebrow.
The smile vanished only to be replaced with a low scowl.
"You don't think I would be worth that amount, eh?" she asked in a clipped tone, her hands upon her hips.
He took a step forward, making sure to keep his gaze locked with hers.
"I only suggest that you sell yourself short," he said quietly. "From what I've seen so far, I'd be willing to offer two-hundred for a mere hour's worth of your attention. An entire night is something I doubt I could afford."
She blinked and her scowl vanished almost immediately. Her lips parted and her nostrils flared ever so slightly before a wry smirk worked its way across her features.
"Mr. James Dartley," she said lowly, "are you actually trying to seduce me?" She threw her head back with a loud, earnest laugh before looking upon him again. "It was a good attempt, I'll grant you that."
"But you are correct," he continued on. "As interesting as your company would be, I need you for something else. I need to know who acted as the intermediary between yourself and the Merry Boyz."
His abrupt change in the conversation threw her off for a moment.
"Intermediary? Why do you need to know that? The Merry Boyz are already removed and can no longer provide the services I needed." She paused and then grinned with comprehension. "But then you already knew of my connection with them, and now it leads me to question if the River Patrol didn't have some assistance with taking down Mr. Murlyn's little operation."
Ignoring her correct assumption, he pressed the matter. "I know you're partners with Stavros. He met with the intermediaries. He made the deals with them for you, a different girl each time, correct? I would like to know who these people are."
"You're information is as impressive as my own. Stavros does meet with them and brings them the usual payment of Coin each time, but you are wrong on one account: they're not girls. They are men."
"I mean the girls of yours that you send away," James clarified.
"My girls are free to go whenever they please," she said, crossing her arms and taking an indignant tone. "I only ask they obey the rules of the house while they stay here. I am not their master and do not hold them in shackles, as others might. I will interfere if they are disruptive, but nothing more."
"But your payment to the Merry Boyz?"
"A seasonal stipend of Coin and a percentage of available elixir, not that I can see how that matters in this case."
"And nothing else?"
"What else would there be?" she asked.
His brow furrowed. She wasn't stupid by any means and he had tried to avoid being too direct about the girls she offered the Merry Boyz, but it didn't seem like it was working. How else could she miss his obvious suggestion unless… unless…
His eyes widened as understanding dawned all too quickly.
"Oh no," he muttered to himself. "I've been the fool not to see this sooner."
She smiled, oblivious to his self-recrimination. "I know where these men reside and I will be willing to consider trading you this information should you do me a favor. That is how your contracts work, no?"
Collecting himself, he asked, "What task would you have us perform?"
"There is a small gang of thugs who I would like to see removed from an area just north of Kaldwin's Bridge. They are led by a man named Rolan Dickens. I can provide you with their exact location."
"What have they done?" he asked.
"At which time?" she retorted with a laugh. "I will not ask what you wish of the intermediaries and you will not ask why I want them gone. But rest assured, they are criminals, thieves, and brutes. Society will be better without them."
"Allow me time to investigate," he said. "If all is as you say, then we have a bargain."
"A week then?" she offered. "Do this, and you will have my consideration for the information."
He nodded in agreement.
"I will return when the task is complete, Madame Dent."
"And I shall be waiting here, Mr. James Dartley."
James led his companions back onto Rue Manor Lane, the dwelling of Lucretia Dent behind them. He scanned the area and noted that even in this well-maintained neighborhood, some of the more striking mansions were closed, their properties confiscated by the Lord Regent or the City Barrister. Two sat west and northwest of their current location and one was directly south.
"I didn't wish to say anything at the time," Tuddleston interrupted, his voice hushed so that only James could hear him. "But something seemed amiss at the end. You were going strong, then faltered. And suddenly you agreed to Madame Dent's terms rather quickly. What happened, if I may ask?"
James nodded.
"I remarked earlier about not having Vivianna's deductive abilities and that was a bit too evident today." He turned to his friend. "I'm certain she would have seen through this mess immediately, but it took my duller brain a while to piece together everything we learned from Lady Echkart, Adrienne, and now Lucretia Dent. I was lucky enough to buy the time needed at the very end of the deal."
"Buy time?" the scribe asked. "I admit I don't know what is going on. You mean the week she gave you?"
"Yes."
"To investigate this man Dickens before you deal with him?"
"I already know who Dickens is," James admitted. "I'll need to check his gang's strength, but he is a criminal, as she said. The week was for something else."
"And what would that be?"
James stopped and looked his friend in the eyes. "It's to give you time to arrange a break-in of Stavros's home, and secure some evidence."
The large man paled at this announcement. "I'm sorry what? Break-in? To someone's home? Me? Alone?"
"Not alone," James said as he clamped a firm hand upon his friend's shoulder. "The Tyvian is going to help you."