An.: I'll make this chapter 7.1 and 7.2 because it was supposed to be one chapter but I'm at 10k already :grimacing:
I decided to make Balmung female (opposing to ch. 1) and idk why I used to capitalize Lord van Zieks pre ch. 6 but matters are subject to change and whenever I'll go back to old chapters and replace it. Unfortunately, editing here is a b'ch
The quote used later on is Macbeth 5,7 Globe Education; I won't include translations for other languages here but what's important is gonna be in English anyway.
Same tws as before.
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Which is the worst enemy? Is it having no enemy in name and face but the world turning against you? The slow decay of trust, maybe even inside what you consider safe spaces? Is it the enemies you can name, the faces, their words, their actions against you? Or is it ... yourself? No peace of mind wherever you go because as ancient philosophers said, one cannot leave oneself behind, you can run but you cannot run from yourself?
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The morning started for the both of them earlier than usual, both jolting awake at approximately the same time for similar reasons.
Klimt van Zieks woke to the erratic barking of Balmung outside the manor's window, mixed with the servants' shouts both to try calm the dog down and find the source of trouble and asking each other to go and wake the master. This unusual and sudden way of waking up after a somewhat deep and dreamless short night left Klimt in a worse mood than usual as he hastily got up and grabbed clothes to cover his nakedness, already with one foot out of the door by the time Margareth came to the second level to fetch him.
"What is going on?", Klimt demanded to know matter-of-factly, buttoning up the row of buttons on his upper coat and storming down the stairs already.
"We cannot calm her down. Richard is currently looking for intruders Balmung might've smelled. He has taken others to comb through the forest and is not back yet." They reached ground level, where next to the hall's entrance door the cook and two handmaidens were kneeling in front of the coachman, who was sitting on a chair next to the door, pale like death, his left arm bleeding severely even through the coat. He was clinging to it with pained sounds, sweats running down his temples.
"She also attacked Edward when he tried to approach and calm her down", Margareth explained.
"Call him a doctor. See it done that his wounds are being tended to. For the love of god, take off his clothes and find soem hygienic bandages to stop the bleeding too!", he shouted at the handmaidens, which immediately got up and with a quick courtesy excused themselves and hurried into the kitchen. Klimt didn't have the time to be friendly in times of emergency. "Margareth, it better be one of the new professionals. I want someone I can fully trust to take care of my men."
"Of course, my lord."
Margareth's and his way parted outside in the garden as she hurried in the opposite direction to get one of the messenger boys to the St. Bartholomew Hospital and he went behind the manor, where Balmung continued barking without rest. A small group of people just halted in safe distance from her, discussing something under suppressed murmurs. Klimt recognised Richard, who held a rifle tightly in hands, and concluded that the scouts had returned without finding what could've evoked the dog's unusual fit.
"Nothing?" Klimt joined them, his eyes darkly watching Balmung jump up and down against her chain that held her bound on the wall, growling, barking.
"No, milord. We have followed a trail but it lead to nowhere." Richard fiddled with the rifle's bolt, his eyes wandering from master to dog and back. "I cannot explain her behaviour, milord." He sounded helpless.
"I understand." Klimt put a heavy hand on his shoulder to briefly comfort him and pressed past him, slowly approaching Balmung himself, who was now leaning in the direction of where she was seeing something, her ears laid back, the chain strained to the breaking point. He slowed even more to not provoke her because even though they knew each other for a lifetime, she was still an animal. "Balmung, stay!"
She didn't react at all, still pulling against the chain that held her back. Klimt squinted into the same direction as her and for a second thought he caught a movement between the trees. Could there be some sort of wildlife ... No, out of the question. His hunting dog would never disobey without proper reason. He had raised her from the day she'd been born, naturally they were extremely close.
"My girl." Klimt closed up and crouched next to her, ignoring the servants' panicked gasps, and reached for Balmung's collar, quickly unfastening it from the chain that was holding her back despite the highly potential danger that came from this action. Immediately, Balmung shot forward and without losing a moment, Klimt followed track even though just as fast he fell behind, and with a wave of his hand behind him, Richard and his companions followed as well. You see, Barok, this was roughly a week after the attack on you and Klimt had not yet received any hint on what the abductors had hoped to achieve, and now something suspicious was going on in the forest behind his manor the day you were to be discharged and sent home, suspicious enough to make Klimt's trusted animal companion act irrationally ... Obviously he'd follow this course of action.
And indeed, after running through the piece of wilderness, Klimt was the first to close up with Balmung, saw her chewing on something on the ground and noticed the note that was pinned against the tree with an old dagger, the perpetrator they'd be hunting nowhere to be seen but blood leaving a trail on the ground. Without a second of hesitation, Klimt tore the letter from prominent view and pointed at the direction of the wall which fenced his premises, ordering the guys who had closed up close behind him to follow the lead quickly before the perpetrator could escape back into the city. Only when they were out of sight with another round of shouts, Klimt walked to Balmung to inspect what she was chewing on, already praising her for her good behaviour but also noticing how she had stopped pursuit (and honestly, fighting the first flight of panic that she might've torn another throat open). He pet her rubbing her throat, promised to take her out hunting a lot soon and treat her royally as well, finding it calming when she barked and reacted happily.
"You're my very best girl, Gee. I love you." He lifted a finger. "Now, out! Come girl, give me what you have. Out!"
Klimt sat down flatly even though the earth would stain his white trousers, picked up what Balmung dropped out of her maw and inspected the piece of fabric he was holding. It was wet from dog spit but also blood, definitely a torn piece coming from outer wear. Curious though that Balmung would be satisfied with just this, considering that she must've held on aggressively to her prey, tearing at what had turned out to be human after all. Huh ... but if he was human (Klimt didn't doubt it was a man), how had Richard not been able to track the perpetrator down either?
Klimt definitely trusted his servants more than starting to suspect them for the smallest weird occurence such as this, trusting some of them even more than that for other reasons, not to mention that even if one of them had betrayal on their mind, this time Richard had been on his way with several people and the entire household bore witness. There were better moments to try and betray someone than now.
"Milord!" Footsteps, the others came running back. They were sweating from all the commotion and running, however the outer mansion wall wasn't too far away from here anymore. "We barely missed him. The fucker climbed the wall, judging by the smears of blood he's bleeding considerably. He might not make it, I think. We didn't see him in person though."
"Thank you. Let us return to the mansion." Klimt pocketed the piece of fabric, got up from the ground and whistled sharply. "Let's go Balmung! At foot!"
-o-
The other person that had jolted awake this morning did not have it this full of action.
Genshin Asougi woke up after being haunted by thoughts about work even into his dreams and got up silently in order to not wake the other two exchange students he was sharing a room with, only to find that Seishirou Jigoku was in fact not sleeping anymore but sitting in the common room over a couple of hastily written reports with his eyes closed.
"Ohayō Gozaimasu", Genshin greeted, slipped into his boots and reached into his hair to undo the braid he usually was braiding his hair into for sleep. "How come you're awake already?"
"I'm not." Jigoku turned his elbow on the table and lifted his hand with a grunt before lowering it again. Genshin stepped next to him, mildly worried.
"Aren't you overworking yourself?", he asked in Japanese, enjoying how his mother language felt on his tongue and sounded in the silence. Sometimes he felt he hadn't talked it for too long, especially when the Japanese exchange students were for themselves. Might also have been a matter of not meeting that regularly anymore other than in rare moments like these.
"Maybe I am being overworked." Jigoku opened an eye and looked at Genshin sideways. "Or maybe you're the one overworking. Where have you been all this week, my friend? I understand Mikotoba's fascination with detective work but since when you?"
"Am I overworking?" Genshin finished fastening his hair with the usual white hair tie and leaned against the table's edge, giving it some thought. "I've participated in a couple of trials and investigations overall, some of them through my own will. It's voluntary work for me. It doesn't look very voluntary for you." He picked up a sheet of paper, turned it so that Jigoku could see and said accusatory: "Your handwriting is one of the most elegant out there and yet this is how your paper looks like. How can you defend against this?"
"Is this a cross-examination now?" Jigoku snorted and closed his eye again. "Won't you go and save some coffee for me before Wolfgang has some crazy capitalistic ideas." He was counting on half of the German exchange students to be awake as well by now, knowing them long enough to roughly judge their sleeping schedule. On the other hand, he valued this kind of contact among the three the most.
"Sure." There still was plenty of time before he'd meet up with Klimt van Zieks, so Genshin could take his time.
To be honest, it bothered Genshin that he and Klimt weren't progressing with the investigation about Barok's attackers at all. It seemed like they were looking at a spider's web from the outside without being able to see the spider itself and instead viewed the victims caught in it. There was Benjamin Dobinbough, who coincidentally was a good friend to the German exchange students, a close friend to Barok, the victim of the attack. Barok was a good friend to Sherlock Holmes, who coincidentally shared a flat with Genshin's good friend Yuujin Mikotoba. Genshin had affiliations with Klimt van Zieks, who swore that his servants had utmost loyalty to him, and Scotland Yard, where the least detectives should've known about Barok's plans that day. And then of course, there were all these nobles from Taylor's and Sir Taylor himself, whose dead eyes upon recalling the memory still sent uncomfortable shivers over Genshin's spine. How many of these people had a reason to injure either of the Van Zieks brothers, because of their parents, their noble blood, their position, because of jealousy or just evil intentions ...?
Genshin shook his head. The thoughts about work truly followed him everywhere, didn't they?
The dorms for the exchange students (a remote dorm of London University) had three separate wings: for the German, for the Japanese and for the Russian exchange students. Each wing had sleeping rooms that connected to common rooms with a small kitchen space, individual hallways leading to the entrance hall and finally up to their main group room. That was where Genshin was headed, following the strong fragrance of coffee, and found two out of three Germans at the oak table.
These two were the Liebknecht brothers Johann and Wolfgang, inexplicable human beings when it came to taste, sleeping schedule or work but definitely creative and reliable men nonetheless. Just now, they sat in silence around an iron apparatus, Johann inspecting it with a screwdriver in hands, Wolfgang on a chair next to him, their backs turned to Genshin.
"Ohaiyō gozaimasu", Genshin greeted and approached. Regrettably, he recognized the apparatus on the table as the percolator that they used to make coffee with and found himself hoping that he was not too late yet. It did smell like coffee somewhere after all.
"It's as good a morning as always", Johann commented, put the screwdriver from his hand into his mouth and used both hands to move the singular parts of the apparatus, eyes on its inner workings. Genshin watched cautiously.
"Guten Morgen to you too, he meant to say." Wolfgang put his head back and leaned against the back of his chair so that he saw everything upside-down, again chewing on an unlit cigarette because, as he said, it calmed his raging smoking addiction. "What brings you up this late?"
"Early." Johann used the tip of the screwdriver to hit against the pipe where hot water was supposed to rise into coffee powder, from where coffee usually dripped into the space around said pipe, making soft clinking sounds. "We are early."
"Huh." Wolfgang turned his head and looked out of the window. "Dawn really looks the same, be it that the sun goes up or down."
"It doesn't." Johann pushed his glasses up his nose and it slid down the bridge of his nose almost instantly again. "Die Lichtverhältnisse sind fundamental verschieden, Wolfgang. Von Nacht auf Tag zu Tag auf Nacht - think about it rationally, you poetic heart."
"Tsk. Poetic heart am Arsch."
Genshin looked back and forth, not being able to understand half of their conversation. It was funny, to listen to foreign language like this. The Germans talked English way more often than the Russians did since the German Kaiser loved the Great British Empire (it wasn't exactly a mutual feeling but ten years ago, my dearest friend, it wasn't as bad as it is nowadays).
"What's with the percolator?", Genshin decided to interrupt. Wolfgang groaned in answer.
"What's not with the percolator, Genshin?" In order to answer, Johann put the screwdriver from his mouth and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, from where it immediately fell back to where it had previously been.
"I simply believe there are better ways to brew coffee. This is unnecessarily complicated constructed, ineffective, completely unreliable, the coffee too bland, too strong, individual monitoring necessary. The amount of time used to make coffee doesn't justify the result in the end. The process, the circulation of water and coffee powered through heat is artificially bloated, not following an economical thinking. Other scientists have tried cutting the water pipe down in length but it doesn't ..." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, frowning. "Es hat nicht den gewünschten Effekt. Zumindest nicht den, den ich wünsche. How do I say that in English, Wolfgang?"
"It's not what he's aiming for, he meant to say. We're seeing where we can improve the system. We're playing around with the percolator, honestly."
"I object to that. We are not just playing around." Johann grabbed what looked like a smaller percolator from the table and waved it around in front of him, still continuing in his monologue as he proceeded to dismantle this one too.
"Thinking from the basis of the problem regardless of all the results: We may not be able to cut down the time needed for making water boil as nature doesn't allow it but what is in our powers is the way we make use of the powder, of the cycle of said water. What others ... scientists ... do with this", he picked up the screwdriver and pointed its tip at the big percolator's inner pipe and then gesticulated at the smaller version in his hand, "is trying to control the time needed for brewing coffee while maintaining the quality of the drink, but all in costs for the amount that will come out in the end."
"And do they not succeed?" Genshin inspected the small percolator, which was similar to a teapot in size. He had no idea about these things but he liked listening to others' passion. Love could be so contagious. "If I'm not mistaken I've seen these coffee makers at Scotland Yard too."
Johann took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his wrist in which he was holding the glasses in, since in his other hand he was still holding the percolator.
"They're still holding onto the same principle but are working with the variables time, water, powder. That is wrong. Fact: You cannot produce as much with this as you could with this big percolator. If you want the same amount of coffee with this small percolator you'd brew and brew and put in more time as before, paired with personal effort as you need to overlook the process than you'd do with this big one, for the same result in the end. It means that if you cut down the size of both pipe and percolator as I had considered at first, you basically pay more than before for the same result. Thus, people started making use of a different thought, making coffee through 'simply' mixing the coffee powder with hot water, creating some unclean broth that you have to handle with care in order to not have the powder rests in your drink. In one word: Ineffective."
"We have been thinking about improving that method, he meant to say." Wolfgang took the cigarette he'd been chewing on out of his mouth and directed Genshin's attention to another pot on the table as he slid it over to the detective. This definitely was a teapot this time. "Your opinion?"
Genshin lifted the lid and saw a teabag dangling inside steaming water, obviously brewing coffee but in a way someone would brew tea in. The steam rose to Genshin's face but changed direction because of a mysterious wind.
"The linen bag will hold the powder together, fixing the obvious mistake in the second thought I presented. Since one cannot control the time needed to boil water, we can let the natural process of infusion work and only need to pull the linen bag out when the coffee is strong enough." Johann did so as he was talking and presented perfectly made hot coffee - yet, he didn't look content with himself. Two pairs of eyes rose to look at Genshin expectantly.
"The English people take great pride in tea and making tea", Genshin cautiously said, thinking about tea ceremonies back at home. He felt a sting at his heart ... it had been so long. "They might take offense if you equal tea and coffee, since the coffee is an American invention, right? Other than that this seems like an idea you should pursue." He put the lid back onto the teapot.
"Definitely. Watch Johann discuss everything with Benjamin again. You should see the two. As if Johann was studying science with Benjamin instead of studying law." Wolfgang rose from the chair and gestured at the pot. "This is what you came here for, right? Let's get back and share it. It'll be safe leaving him here, I hope." He threw his brother a sharp gaze.
"We live in a century of progress in all areas. All areas, hörst du, Wolfgang? This is for the masses, not for us."
"Ja ja, ich hab dich schon verstanden." Wolfgang patted his brother's shoulder and followed Genshin, who had picked up the teapot from the table and returned to the staircase. "Don't mind him." He joined his hands behind his head and started whistling on their way down.
The two of them were barely down the stairs when an unexpected visitor arrived at the dorms and they spotted each other, but it was Wolfgang who exclaimed: "What an honour, if it's not the count himself visiting these lowly students!", both stopping at the stairs' base.
"Lowly students?" Klimt took off his top hat as he closed up to them, dusting it off some imaginery dust. "You're all respectable men I'd wager, Mister Liebknecht. Even if you personally were not, which I doubt, others most definitely are." He extended his hand and Wolfgang shook it. "This early in the morning London's streets are as full as the viewing ranks during my trials as leading prosecutor, in order to make appropriate jokes this early in the morning", he winked at Genshin. When he wanted to offer him a handshake too, his gaze fell on the teapot in Genshin's hands and his facial expression became complicated. Seeing that Genshin had both hands occupied, Klimt lowered his hand again without shaking hands with him. When he spoke, he almost sounded indignant.
"A lot of people might find it offensive that you brew something other than tea in a teapot."
"I will let Johann know that even the chief prosecutor said so." Looking at Klimt, hearing the sharp undertones in his voice, seeing the uncharacteristically messy hair, Genshin concluded that something had happened to bring him to the dorms earlier than expected, but he was unable to ask about it at the moment since Wolfgang was still with them. "If you don't mind the break in convention, care to join for a cup of coffee out of a teapot, Lord van Zieks? I fear the percolators are ... out of service."
"Desperately, yes", Klimt sighed, hardening Genshin's assumptions.
Upon their return to the Japanese common room it turned out that Mikotoba had waken up by now, seemingly ready to depart despite the early hour. When the newcomers entered, he was in a tense discussion with Jigoku.
"Don't forget it. Think about it rationally, Mikotoba", Jigoku just said in Japanese when the door opened, prompting Mikotoba to look up. He met eyes with the newcomers, his face underwent a change and lightened up, leading Jigoku to divert his attention to the door to his side as well.
"Lord van Zieks", he greeted surprised.
"Good morning, Mister Mikotoba." Klimt placed the top hat in his hands onto the next even surface in close proximity and went forward to shake hands, following conventions as per usual. "I believe only us two haven't been introduced properly yet, Mister?"
Genshin followed and through a nod of his head asked that Wolfgang go and get some mugs from the kitchen for them, while Mikotoba took the opportunity for introduction.
"Seishirou Jigoku, student of law under Prosecutor Hart Vortex. Chief prosecutor Lord Klimt van Zieks."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Mister Jigoku. I'm deeply sorry that it had taken me this long to introduce myself personally. The last years have been ... busy." Klimt exchanged smiles with the two other exchange students. Interesting how different his attitude toward them was in comparison with Wolfgang in the hallway. Nothing too evident because Klimt treated both groups with much respect, just a feeling about attitude.
"You're leaving again?", Genshin asked Mikotoba, eyeing the hat his friend was holding in a hand. Wolfgang returned with four mugs from the kitchen, still whistling to himself and placed them so that Genshin could pour coffee. "Have some coffee first?"
"I think I've seen coffee powder in one of Holmes' cupboards so I will kindly decline your offer this time." He turned to Klimt. "I heard your brother is being discharged from hospital today?"
"Indeed, that is the case. Barok is slowly on the way to recovery but he had expressed the wish to attend the exchange students' goodbye celebration today since his friend is going to leave England. He wants to see him off. I hope you'll be joining too?"
"Holmes and I will be there, yes. There is one matter we need to look into this afternoon but we will join you." Mikotoba got up, put his hat on and added with little bows in direction of everyone: "Excuse me for now, friends, my lord."
He left.
Wolfgang picked up a filled mug and reached it to Klimt, slid one over the table to Jigoku and picked up the last one himself, dropping onto the next chair. "Are you going to join, my lord?", he asked in his nonchalant tone. "We have prepared a lure in case you think about declining. Now that we'll be leaving to the German Reich anyways, it should be no secret anymore that we've been illegally brewing good wine for eight years now, our own special blend if you so want."
"Is that so?" Klimt's eyes sparkled behind the edge of his mug. "A lure designed specifically for me ... and you decide to share this information while you're still on English territory? You are aware that I am a man of law, Mister Liebknecht?"
"I'd assume your memory is a good one too, my lord. Just in the hallway you doubted my intentions as a respectable man but fear not, it's just some wine and it'll drink itself with or without you equally well."
"You talk disrespectfully like this without that alcohol had loosened your tongue beforehand. Watch it, Wolfgang, he's still the chief prosecutor." Jigoku got up and turned the chair so that he faced the company, thanks to the coffee wider awake than before. Opposite to the others, his tone didn't conceal the reproach. However, Jigoku wasn't one to pick a fight in this case and changed topic to divert the tension in the air to something else. "What's with the teapot? Don't tell me you guys destroyed the percolator?"
"An experiment. Ask the scientists in my family about it. I'm not a detective, I'm a simple prosecutor and I know nothing." Wolfgang lifted both hands as if to yield and laughed. Klimt narrowed his eyes to slits.
"After eight years of studying abroad in the greatest empire of the world and still knowing nothing ... You don't shy away from insulting even yourself, do you?", Klimt asked lightly, took a step forward and put the finished mug in his hands down onto the table harder than needed, leaving Wolfgang decently time to adjust his facial expression before adding in Geshin's direction: "Detective, a word in private if I may?" He didn't even look at the German again.
"... Sure." Genshin followed Klimt with a nod of his head in direction of the others for them to excuse him and stepped out into the hallway after the other, pulling the door shut behind him. He wondered if there was history between Klimt and Wolfgang he wasn't aware of.
"Is there a place in these dorms where we can talk without being overheard if possible?"
Genshin looked down the hallway and thought about it and when one place did come to mind, Genshin immediately felt it inappropriate to even bring it up, a strange feeling getting hold of him that made him swallow hard just through considering it. He grew uncomfortably aware of Klimt's waiting eyes as the silence dragged on and lifted a hand to cover his mouth, trying to think about something else. Outside, maybe? However, cursed be that their skills of profession followed suit, Klimt bent an arm to gesture Genshin to go on and said: "Lead the way."
The place in question Genshin had been thinking of was a windowsill on the end of the Russian exchange students' hallway, an extension that the other hallways of this dorm lacked due to the dorm's layout. Factually, this building had once been part of the other university dorms and the windowsill Genshin and Klimt were headed to was the former passage way to the next dorm that no longer existed and whose passage way was replaced with a window now - with a grave change of meaning as well because now it was a place lovers went to kiss uninterrupted. Fortunately, this information was something only Genshin knew.
"The reports on Mister Jigoku's table, Asōgi. Do you know anything about them?"
Genshin gave the man walking by his side a glance and tried shaking off the other questions bothering him - he had been wondering since Klimt's arrival that the man treated the German (maybe all of them, maybe just Wolfgang?) with the same backhanded insults the English society knew so well but seemingly only them. However, Genshin decided the chief prosecutor might take it the wrong way if he mentioned this carelessly and the other possibility would be to ask if everything was fine, yet the question was so vague that it was better to not mention it at all. It wasn't Genshin's business after all.
"Jigoku studies under Prosecutor Vortex. I think they are reports." Genshin thought about what he had seen written on the piece of paper he had picked up this morning to criticize Jigoku's handwriting. He hadn't paid much attention to the contents. "It didn't look like evidence or something of that sort. But we rarely talk about these small matters."
"I see." They reached their destination and Klimt elegantly dropped onto the windowsill, one leg still on the ground, the other drawn up next to himself. Genshin sat down on the opposite side, pulling up both legs onto the wood, Karuma dangling freely on his hip. It felt unreal that there had been a similar situation only about a week ago, when Klimt and him had first met properly, down at Scotland Yard, and Genshin had bandaged Klimt's injured hand. Looking at it, almost none of the injury was now left on Klimt's palm. The stitches Doctor Taylor had applied were still visible though and would need to be removed soon.
"Progress in the case we're pursuing?", Genshin asked.
"I wonder about that." Klimt's lineaments hardened. He shook his head "I don't bring good news. Balmung smelled an intruder on my premises today. He left something behind that was intended for me."
"Barok's abductor?"
"Most likely. Most likely even the culprit himself." Klimt leaned his head back against the wall and undid the upper buttons of his clothing with one hand, baring his throat. Then he reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a folded paper with was ripped on the upper half, and asked: "What do you make of this?"
Genshin let his gaze linger on the exposed skin for a moment longer before he forcefully lowered his attention to the folded piece of paper Klimt held between pointing and middle finger for him to take. He unfolded the paper and read:
-o-
"Thou losest labour.
As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed.
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests.
Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cowed my better part of man.
And be these juggling fiends no more believed
That palter with us in a double sense,
That keep the word of promise to our ear
And break it to our hope."
-o-
-o-
Genshin read it again. "I ... don't understand." He looked up to quiet laughter filling this windowsill they were sitting in, not a single trace of joy underlying the laugh. If laughter could sound angry, then Klimt laughed angrily.
"Me neither. It makes damn less sense the more I try to understand it. They're mocking me. They dare mock me." The hand resting on his thigh clenched into a fist. "It's a quote from Macbeth, Shakespeare. Blatant mockery no matter how I turn it. It enrages me deeply." He pushed his head off the wall, the anger in his eyes evident, a storm raging inside of him. These were eyes that could kill and like in a stare-down with a snake, Genshin found himself unable to look away from the danger coming from these eyes. He forgot to breathe.
"Worst, Balmung let him escape." Klimt reached out and closed a hand tightly around Genshin's wrist, turning his hand that held the paper against the hallway so that natural light would fall from the window onto the paper and allow them both to read what was written on it.
"I ... I have never heard of that novel."
"It's a stageplay about a man who is pushed into the role of a murderer and tyrant against his will after murdering the king he'd been on good terms with and ended up killing his best friend too. The instigator, Macbeth's wife Lady Macbeth, grows crazy over the course of the play despite being the one too ambitious. I doubt the context matters in this letter but can you believe the attacker would go all the way for this in English nobody talks in anymore?"
"The play sounds terrible."
"Huh?" Klimt looked up, finally really looking at Genshin.
"Either you described the story too bluntly or the play's idea is terrible", Genshin explained. Klimt let go of his wrist, leaned his elbow against his flat knee and propped his chin against his hand instead. For the first time since he had arrived at the dorm, his face softened in something like amusement.
"You should see a performance at Globe Theater before judging it, Asōgi. Though I wouldn't be resentful if you still disliked it after that." Seriousness crept back into the corners of his eyes, hardening the lines of his face again. Sorrow wasn't easily chased away after all and despite the letter's looks, the circumstances surrounding it were still worrisome. "So?"
Genshin cleared his throat and lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, giving the text another read. "It doesn't sound like the kind of English that is easy to understand. It makes me wonder who has access to this kind of text. Especially compared to the list of suspects."
"It's definitely not easy. Nobody talks like that anymore. Shakespeare's been long dead."
"Are you sure that this is from the attackers, Lord van Zieks? No doubt?" Klimt nodded and Genshin believed. "Then who has access to this kind of text?" He waved the letter.
"Technically, anyone who can access a library. The question rather is who would intend a message with it and assume I'd understand it too. At least the threat is easily seen." Klimt straightened up and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "As a noble, I had to have read this during my basic school education and were bound to see the play performed once or twice in my life. As for the scene itself - it's Macbeth talking to the guy who's about to kill him I think. I forgot his name but it's hardly important."
"What about the individual sentences? How can they be interpreted? 'Thou losest labour', you lose work?" Genshin tilted the paper to the window to be able to read in better light. "Your position as chief prosecutor, maybe? The whole attack then was definitely meant against you."
"No, 'though losest labour', it means doing something in vain. Wasted time. This part is the aforementioned mockery because I don't progress with this investigation at all. Consider, Asōgi, this is the first time the abductors come into contact with me and instead of giving demands, I get this. We truly tread on the same place all this time without a solid lead. But this. Such insolence." He sandwiched his face between his hands, burying his fingers in his hair.
What Klimt didn't mention then was how much this message spooked him because of the published Professor letter in the newspaper roughly a week ago - it felt like he was playing some morbid game without being able to follow any of the rules or leads presented to him, spinning him deeper into confusion, shock and rage. Were the two letters connected? Did that Professor letter in the newspaper, which seemingly had no sender according to the publisher after Klimt requested the information, have any connection to the perpetrator from this morning?
And to think that in the beginning of November Klimt hadn't even imagined something like this would happen to him.
Which brings me back to the question at the beginning of the letter, dear Barok, what is worse: knowing that you have an enemy without knowing their face, or being your own enemy? Also I wonder Barok, do you see the Professor parallels with this scene from Macbeth? Morbid, how your attacker was unaware of the entire Professor murder business and yet still selected a scene that had such damned resemblance.
"'Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, for it has cowed my better part of man'." Genshin lifted his gaze, feeling very much as if he was dealing with a riddle. It made little sense. "Let your blade fall on vulnerable crests. Crests ... nobility? Could this be a reference to your recent trials where you've been trying to prosecute fellow nobles? It sounds like someone untouched by law, telling you to prosecute someone who has a 'vulnerable crest' instead."
"Don't remind me." Klimt closed his eyes for a moment. He wondered if that could be true. What nobles were out there that could be prosecuted by just way? Aristocracy stood above the law as it was right now ...
Klimt couldn't think of anyone.
"But it's in connection with 'accursed be that tongue that tells me so'. It sounds like a noble who holds a grudge against you, maybe someone you talked to about these trials. Macbeth as a play would fit too because it seems like the material nobles know better than anyone else. I don't see anyone other than a nobleman select this sort of message for you. And it's someone your hunting dog knows too ... Have you ever had bad blood with another noble family, Lord van Zieks?"
"The Baskervilles." Klimt leaned his head on one hand, tapping his knee with his now free other hand. "Clyde Jules Baskerville would decapitate me personally if he ever had the chance to because I married into his family. He doesn't think I deserve Elisabeth, both as man and by rank as count, considering he's a marquess. However, it's not his style to attack my brother because his anger is with me and me alone. Such a thing is below him." Klimt looked out of the window. "I can imagine that families of criminals I've prosecuted or maybe aristocrats jealous of my connections with Sir Gibb and Lord Learmonth would strike in order to bring me down. Other than that, no, I can't think of anyone in particular."
He wondered briefly if someone connected to the Olaughlins could be behind this because of the letter's tone but recalling his investigations about him, Olaughlin had no real family worth mentioning, thus no face Klimt had before his inner eye to pin his suspicions to.
"We can safely assume that it's a personal grudge." Genshin read the first lines again. "And they think you will not be able to hurt them. Apart from nobility ... and someone you know ... Why would you else not be able to hurt someone?"
"I haven't truly suspected any exchange students behind the attack anyway from the beginning. They may be crude sometimes, especially the Germans, but none of them wish me and my family ill, not to mention that they're Barok's friends and if not Barok's then his friend Benjamin's. And the crime is too well executed to not have been planned meticuously beforehand. Additionally, the perpetrator wasn't acting alone." Klimt extended a hand and took the letter for himself again, looking at the bottom of the page. "It bothers me that the last sentence stops halfway. 'And break it to our hope, I'll not fight thee'. That's the threat. He says he won't not fight me. And then he won't even show his face and give me a name to hate." He leaned his head back again, his jaw working angrily.
Genshin watched him silently, letting the silence grow between them. He couldn't imagine that there could be a noble in London that honestly hated a man like Klimt van Zieks this much that he'd go these ways and try and shatter his reputation, attack his brother and instead of placing any concrete demands would break into Van Zieks' property and leave this letter there.
"Your dog let the person who left the letter for you flee", he then repeated something Klimt had mentioned earlier. "It's a noble who holds a grudge against you. Does that not narrow it down at all? The society at Taylor's maybe?"
"A lot of people would secretly cheer if I fell from grace. Most think that I don't deserve my position and only got there where I am through my parents and connections. None of them would ever say that to my face though." Klimt crumpled the letter in his hands up, turned his head and threw it away, down the hallway. The ball of paper fell to the ground in some distance.
Klimt lifted his second leg onto the windowsill, stretched his leg out next to Genshin, slid down the wall in his back and folded his hands over his stomach, resulting in an interesting position.
"The higher they rise, the more enemies they have. It was like this since forever. Tone and convention matter a lot, barely anyone can voice their true intentions face to face, careful not to break something. And it's not that it's pleasant to hear a person's true thoughts just from anyone. It's hard to explain." He tapped Genshin's outer thigh with his foot and lifted his gaze to reciprocate the look from these serious brown eyes that made things with him he wasn't able to name. "I'll burden you with another secret, Asōgi, but so often I'd love to be free, to just board a ship and sail into the horizon into the direction the warm wind blows. Like a bird."
He turned his head to the side and drew his eyebrows together. "But only in weak moments like these when I imagine what my life could've been. I love London. I love England and I live to serve the Queen. I believe in what the future brings. I have worked hard to be where I am today. Yes, through connections and the family name but I still stood up and took the opportunity when it presented itself to me. Is that not enough?"
"I admire that." Genshin put down his hand onto the boot that was still tapping the side of his thigh and rested his other hand on Karuma's hilt. He didn't quite understand what direction the conversation had taken but since he couldn't help with the letter at the moment, he could as well answer honestly. "A soul can yearn for many things at once. We believe that our soul has many parts and if you believe in reincarnation then your soul may have loved something you wish you had in this life. But only because you yearn for something, it doesn't mean that you have to do everything to get it. And that too is part of the soul - to decide rationally what we should pursue and what is a sign of cowardice."
Klimt stilled. "Where does all of your wisdom come from, Asōgi?", he asked, delight shining through his voice. "I wonder about you everytime we talk. Your presence is soothing, healing for my soul whatever we think that is. Sometimes people are highly irritating and I came here with disturbed feelings, irritable even, but now with you I feel better again. How so? How do you do it?"
Genshin blinked, then blessed the silence with one of his pleasant laughs that invited anyone else to join in and stole another smile from Klimt's lips. While Genshin was usually calm and collected, laughter changed his expression into something like warm sunshine breaking through an overcast English heaven, making him look younger than he was but as handsome as ever. Klimt liked seeing him like this. He had been serious about his words. He usually was.
"I don't have answers for every question, Lord van Zieks. I'm not as good as you make me out to be. Like you said to Wolfgang before, maybe we're honourable men with good intentions. Maybe not everyone has them in the end." His cheeks definitely grew red but he was a person whose blush wasn't extremely evident except one was paying close attention. And just like Genshin usually did, Klimt now did as well.
"Well, I may be a nobleman but you're a noble man. That is a good quality to have, Asōgi. Keep that. I mean it."
They sunk into silence again. Klimt watched the people that walked on the pavement outside the dorm's premises and hung on to his thoughts whatever kind they might've been, and Genshin thoughtfully looked at him, his own thoughts only returning to the threatening letter after the following question: "Do you always give such high praise, my lord?"
"Do I?" Klimt drew his leg in to his body and rested a loose hand on his bent knee. He didn't exactly have an answer to that question.
Yet.
-o-
-o-
Later that day, Klimt looked around but nobody was passing by. Curtly, Klimt jumped onto the lower part of the wall with the foot between the fence's bars and clung to the spikes on top. Solely with the strength of his arms he pushed his legs up and, careful not to impale himself on accident in the process, swung over the fence, jumping off on the other side with a little bounce. Now on the premises of the Baskervilles, Klimt duck into the rose bushes and slowly made his way to the terrace on the backside of the mansion, crouching to stay out of sight. He thought he had heard voices coming from there.
"Madam, have we received word from Sir Gibb yet?" There on the terrace she sat, the most beautiful woman of London, next to a low decorative table with two tea mugs, a woolen blanket around the shoulders to keep the cold away, open book in hands. Elisabeth had styled her hair differently today into a high bun, which kept all of her hair out of her face and accentuated her face's pretty shape. Looking at her from the distance in these bush covers Klimt felt a raging longing in his chest to wrap his arms around his wife, pick her up and spin her around in a circle, just the two of them, laughing, holding each other tightly embraced. It had been a week since they last met and that had hardly been a proper meeting ...
Klimt moved his upper body out from behind the perfectly trimmed rose bush he was hiding behind and wiggled his arm and head to draw Elisabeth's attention onto himself without alerting Missus Penn, who was sitting with her back mostly turned to him opposite to Elisabeth, but still - barely anything escaped her eagle eyes despite her advanced age, eerily enough. Elisabeth noticed him from the corners of her eyes and Klimt immediately pressed his pointing finger against his lips, ducking back into his hiding place, just at the right time since Missus Penn had looked up to answer Elisabeth's question and noticed her watching something other than her chaperon or the book resting on her knees. She turned her head.
"I think he will invite us soon. Elisabeth, dear, what are you looking at?" She frowned at the rose bushes where most of course were no longer in bloom mid November but still full with leaves, covering up the secret visitor. For now, Klimt was safe from her eagle eyes.
"I see. Apologies, I should look to the conservatory now. Maybe some flowers need watering." Elisabeth snapped her book shut and put it onto the decoratory table. "Please, I won't take long", she eased Missus Penn, who had wanted to rise as well, back into her seat and tucked her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
"It's the gardeners' duty to watch the flowers, Elisabeth, not yours. You shouldn't concern yourself with the conservatory."
"I'll walk through the garden. My legs feel a bit stiff from sitting this long." She smiled and slowly walked off in the direction opposite of Klimt, who had understood the cue and snuck away as well, in order to meet her at the winter garden but not blow their covers. Hastily crouching as he was, he arrived earlier than her, checked the inside of the conservatory for gardeners and didn't see a soul inside so he walked in, closed the door behind him and took another look around, admiring the foreign flowers as he was waiting.
"Why did you not come to visit conventionally? You could've told me in your recent letter." Elisabeth stepped into the conservatory and pulled the door close behind her as well. Klimt turned to her, arms joined behind his back, simply drinking her appearance with his eyes and feasting on her beauty without words. She looked up to him with another quiet smile, tilted her head and walked up to him. "Klimt." She lowered her gaze, grazed his shoulders, his chest and stomach with her gaze, returned her eyes to his face. "You are so very childish."
"Isn't that what you love me for?" He reached out, took her hand and lifted it to press a kiss at the back of her hand, resting his lips longer on her soft skin. "Lizzie ..." He held onto her hand and pulled her closer, into an embrace, cupping her face with his free hand. The kiss he shared with her was still controlled but so was his breathing not when she was the first one to break them apart.
"You're coming here like a thief but there's nothing left for you to steal", she reprimanded him and hooked her thumb into his waistband since he made no move to let go of her hand.
"Wrong." Klimt leaned in and pressed a kiss on her nose, the next on her eyebrow because she averted her face giggling like a young girl. "I still haven't brought you into my castle", he murmured and ran his fingers over her hair, pulling out a single curl from the perfect hairdo. She had many curls when her hair was untamed and free, even more when she had just waken up. And it was such a pretty colour too, more beautiful than any of the exotic plants blooming in this conservatory around them.
"Your castle?" She playfully beat away his hand and reached into his hair, ruffling it and bringing it into disarray once again. "My lord, what insolence to name your humble manor a castle when you are on the grounds of the late Lord Charles Baskerville!"
"An insolence this lady hopefully forgives this thief of your heart." Klimt loosened his grip around her hand and waist to escape Elisabeth's rough treatment of his hair and pursed his lips. "It's pretty here. Is this Clyde's private garden?"
"Somewhat. He comes here to escape the mansion from time to time." Elisabeth took Klimt by the hand and lead him along the pathway deeper into the conservatory. One could roughly overlook the plants from the entrance but not the individual plants. Elisabeth stopped before a bouquet of interesting looking flowers with three large, in-curved petals that bent downward and almost touched on the bottom. The inner part of the flower was covered shily by softer pale petals as well.
"These are Dwarf Bearded Iris. What do you think? Beautiful, no?" She looked up to him curiously.
"None can reach your beauty." That remark caused Elisabeth to laugh and push Klimt against his side. He smirked. "No, really. It looks like a ballgown. Such an usual colour too. You say it's a 'bearded' Iris? Hm ..." Klimt wouldn't find the correct term to name the Iris' colour but its main colour was similar though paler than his own hair's, interrupted by darker shades of blue. He had never seen such a flower before, in none of London's gardens.
"This flower is from the Japanese Empire." Elisabeth leaned against Klimt's side. He gave an appreciative hum and extended a hand to touch one of the petals and maybe smell it but stilled when she added: "Sadly, it's poisonous."
"Poisonous?", he echoed and drew his hand back with a frown. "Talking about it." He reached into his coat pocket instead and pulled out a crumled up piece of paper that had been flatened again and reached it over to her. "What do you make of this?"
She took it and skimmed over it. "Macbeth." She straightened up, reading the writing again, and subconsciously kept walking away from Klimt but stopped after a couple of steps. She looked up, thinking. "It's incomplete. Macduff's answers between the parts is missing. The last part of the last sentence isn't written on here either. Klimt, what is this?" She turned around to him, an intrigued look on her face, scanning his expression for answers. He sighed.
"Evidence for something I'm working on. I can't give you all the details but I need your interpretation on it. What message do you see in this letter?"
"Klimt?" She tightened her grip around the paper and drew her eyebrows together. She knew him too well to be deceived by his off-hand remark. "What is this? Are you in danger?"
"No, darling. I promise, it's fine. I'm not in imminent danger at the very least." He lifted both hands against her angry eyes, trying to soothe her this way. So what if he could face dangers and criminals in court, fight them head-on despite their death threats, or even survive out there with other nobility thirsting for something he had ... he was still defenseless against his wife. Especially her rage. "I am dealing with it."
"I will decapitate whoever dares hurt you. Just say the word." She threatened him with her pointing finger, taking off some of the dark promises' edge but not all of it.
"I know, my love." Klimt knew that she meant what she said and imagined Elisabeth swing an ax down at their enemies for a moment, but the imagery filled his stomach with the empty feeling of dread instead. Obviously, she'd never resort to physical violence but her family's name held a lot of power. But if he could ever spare her from the darkness he was dealing with, he'd do anything. "What do you make of it?" He leaned his hip against the next metallic table and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Well, I find it curious that Macduff's answer was omitted but it's connected to Macduff's unnatural birth anyways. Maybe it's not important for the message intended here. But inbetween these two paragraphs, Macbeth also says 'I bear a charmed life, which must not yield to one of woman born'. He's talking about self-protection magic that can only be broken by Macduff in this case."
So my enemy can only be defeated by a special someone? His noble status protects him and yet someone can still defeat him? But why omit that?
"Do you think this is from a noble?"
"Indubitably." Elisabeth returned the letter to him. "Even more, I believe that it's a noble who no longer is protected by his nobility. Why else leave out this part of the play?"
"And yet he's ready to pick a fight because of a grudge." Klimt exhaled sharply. "No name comes to mind who I could've offended in such a way. Damn aristocrats get away with about anything in court nowadays." He startled when he felt a hand against his arm, not having noticed that he had tensed up again. He forced himself to smile. "Thank you, Lizzie. I completely forgot the details of this scene but you remembered."
"Of course. And next time come visit me properly, fine? I believe I have taken a lot of time to water some plants, Missus Penn is going to grow suspicious."
Klimt pecked a quick kiss onto Elisabeth's lips. "Love you. Don't forget about me."
"Foolish man. Kiss Barok from me too." She wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders and watched Klimt leave, following him after she was sure he'd be out of sight.
-o-
-o-
The day had a way of flying by too quickly and evening had already descended upon bustling London. Klimt had returned to his office after the visit at Baskerville mansion, looking over a couple of reports he had neglected this week in pursuit of the perpetrator. There wasn't anything else to do since Barok asked to meet up at the celebration in a tavern somewhere in Shoreditch, where he had wanted to go together with Benjamin.
The reports were protocols of some important trials held recently, barely anything worth mentioning here. It were Vortex's reports and the Holborn incident that drew Klimt's attention, though nothing in the file looked suspicious to Klimt at all. And yet ... there was something with that prosecutor. He was too much in everything, his name dropping too often to be irrelevant. If he turned out to be irrelevant, all would be good.
Could he be the culprit?
Klimt looked at the letter from the morning but discarded the thought. Hart Vortex wasn't a name important to Klimt. As chief prosecutor he would have to have a word with him about his recent behaviour though, especially considering Seishirou Jigoku's obvious fatigue and work that was barely befitting a Japanese student who had been with them for around six years now.
The chief prosecutor leaned back in his chair, lifting a paper he had scribbled names of suspects on. None of them had a grudge against him, none he was aware of. Several detectives of Scotland Yard, maybe jealous of his friendship with Sir Gibb. Nobility of Taylor's, but honestly, any of them technically could've ordered someone to attack Barok while they were face to face with Klimt, just to see his reaction.
His reaction ...
Klimt thought back and remembered how the club's owner, the Lord Chief Justice and even Clyde Jules had lead him away in order to make him calm down away from prying eyes upon receiving the news. He remembered Genshin among the masses too. Well, his presence couldn't be overlooked. Improbable that any of those men would try threaten him. What more trials have there been that could've turned nobles against him?
"Useless."
Without getting any closer to the truth and with "thou losest labour" mocking him in the back of his mind Klimt left his office in the evening to meet up with Genshin again and go to the goodbye celebration. Little did he know yet that he had misinterpreted the nature of the grudge because the grudge wasn't against him ... he was simply a pawn in a game, the chess player himself a pawn to another man, both pawns unaware of that fact. And soon, a murder was going to happen.