...
Caprice
Chapter III
Many nights later Dr. Trafalgar received his second summons to the ostentatious estate of the senior Lord Eustass. He was sitting in the parlour of his much more modest estate deep in the woods of Boin, a cluster of evergreen trees that had grown in abundance just outside of the northernmost reaches of Sabaody when he got the news. His loyal boggart had brought in the mail, a cheeky, not so malevolent fiend by the name of Shachi.
Dr. Trafalgar had made the mistake of naming the creature, and the boggart hadn't left his side since. No matter where he moved his home to it would always reappear within a day or so. Boggarts were irritating creatures like that, but not entirely unwelcome once they were given tasks to complete and offerings of food to keep their primitive instincts at bay.
"Shachi, take this letter to Lord Eustass' estate," Dr. Trafalgar instructed, holding out a letter he'd hastily written up to tell the lord he'd be arriving tomorrow at noon.
A dark form plodded out from behind the fireplace grating, where it had been warming itself by the embers of a dying fire. It was a creature much like Bepo in the sense that it took the form its master commanded it to. And Dr. Trafalgar had always used Shachi to deliver his tonics, letters, and payments to whomever he owed, often those that supplied him with the ingredients to make his medicines. All the while Shachi took the form of a rather tanned adolescent with perpetually clammy skin, spiked hair that resembled porcupine quills, and teeth that seemed to be straight out of the mouth of some aquatic beast from deep within the ocean. When he smiled, which was always in the company of his housemates and the doctor, his gleaming shark teeth gave him away as something that stalked the night.
Other than the occasional slip-up, the township of Sabaody accepted that Dr. Trafalgar had a mute pheasant boy working for him, one that wore a brimmed hat that concealed his face and kept the spikey hair in check.
"South side of Sabaody, Lord Eustass," Shachi rasped, nodding at the directions to show his comprehension. Dr. Trafalgar found the boggart's hat and fit it securely over his little head, mindful to arrange his hair so it fell above the little hollows he had in place of ears. He then snatched up a brown cravat and tied it round the creature's collar, concealing the three slits on each side of his neck that told of his ability to breathe underwater.
If this boggart hadn't taken such a liking to him one day at market, Dr. Trafalgar figured it would have made a life for itself haunting the docks, or perhaps as a cabin boy on a ship. Apart from his diminutive size, the thing was undeniably whale-like in appearance.
"That's right," cooed the doctor. He had the dandiest of times dressing up his little boggart. "South side of Saboady. Now, take care not to let anyone get a good look at you, as I don't want to have to kill for the sake of keeping secrets, and make sure not to bother Lord Eustass' noisy hounds."
"Those silly things chase," Shachi said with a wide grin. He finished buttoning up his vest and slipped into a pair of loose slacks. "Chase, chase, chase, but they can't catch a thing. Not a rabbit, not a–"
"Shachi, take the letter and go," the doctor commanded. He knew if he didn't stop the boggart now it would only break into dance and song, and that would be more than he could handle at present. He had wanted a calm evening, not one filled with sordid singing and disastrous dancing.
The smile didn't slip off of the creature's face until it was out the door, into the dusk, and down the beaten path, letter clutched possessively to his chest.
The doctor sighed and leaned back in his reading chair with a book of scientific discoveries of the late medieval period, but it wasn't long before he was disturbed again by a dark shadow that loomed over him.
"What are you reading so late at night?"
"Only a most distressing account of how to drill holes into the heads of humans to relieve certain maladies. Really, the writer took extensive pains to detail every bit of gore. It's quite fascinating. Perhaps you'd like to peruse this volume when I am done?"
The woman stepped into the light of a dozen or so candles placed sporadically around the parlour and found herself a seat by the fireplace. She held in her ghostly white fingers a rather beaten volume that Dr. Trafalgar recognized as a seafaring guide he'd picked up once on a whim while he was still enlisted in the Navy.
"Going on an adventure, Robin?"
Her dark eyes fixated on him. "I daresay I may be moving on soon."
She never was one for speaking artfully; instead she favoured directness when it came to speaking her thoughts. She was perhaps more blunt and to the point than he was, which didn't fail to amuse him. "Oh, and where are you going, Miss Nico?"
"To seek out what really happened during the Void Century in which there is no salvageable texts. I shall board a ship and find the answers."
"And when you do, be a dear and come back to tell me all about your findings," Trafalgar said, not one to dwell on sentiments. Robin was just another of his kind, a wanderer more than anything that had stumbled upon his humble abode after an encounter with Bepo, in which she gave him a few strong words and a bop on the nose.
"I imagine you will take some of my store with you," he continued.
Robin blinked at his words and then shook her head, her curtain of straight black hair rippling in the light. "I do not plan on it."
"Oh? You can't possibly be thinking of committing barbaric felonies and getting your beautiful hands dirty. It would be most unfortunate for a noblewoman such as yourself. Please, I'm making a very sweet offer here as a gentleman, you should at least have the decency to humour me."
"I tire of talking with you," she replied, a slight smile gracing her pale lips. "You are too interested in my affairs. I do not force myself on yours, so why should I tell you my personal business? Do I ask about how many people you've killed this month, or what kinds of demons have been showing up in your fields lately?"
"No, but I shall tell you anyway now that you've brought it up. I have killed two people, both long-time victims of my beauteous caprice serum, and inflicted five others. Pity that I've had to start five this month on the cycle of degeneration. I had thought you'd be staying longer, and would have needed the sustenance. But, no matter. What's done is done."
He paused with a frown and drummed his fingers against the pages of the book in his lap. The methodical pattering sounded like drops of rain as he thought. "As for strange creatures alighting in my backyard, I do think Bepo has chased them all off with his monstrous fangs except for that rather gruesome looking bergrisar. You may know him as a mountain giant. I think I shall invite him in for tea some day."
Robin scrunched up her nose. "You keep strange company, Mister Trafalgar. Never have I ever come across another vampire with a boggart for a housekeeper and a shapeshifting bearish creature for a steed. And that is not to mention the Caladrius you have stolen out from under that duke's nose. What ridiculous name did you give it again?"
"That would be dear Penguin you are referring to. He is quite useful in determining who will live to see the light of another day and who will only see the light at the end of the tunnel. I enjoy taking him about on my little adventures around Sabaody. The locales think he is a hybrid snowy owl I have tamed for falconry, not a creature that refuses to look at any patient that won't make a full recovery."
Robin shook her head, a smile still gracing her lips. "I cannot believe you named him Penguin."
"He enjoys fish. How do you think I managed to lure him away from that awful Sengoku without getting caught? The wretched man only fed him poultry. Penguin was glad of the change in diet."
Robin was about to ask where Penguin had gone anyway so late at night, as he was not perched in his usual place above the hearth, when a sound like lightning cleaving a tree trunk in half silenced the words in her throat. Dr. Trafalgar rose leisurely and placed the book on a nearby table, then grabbed his overcoat. He hesitated for just a moment when he got to the door of his manor, then turned and grabbed his walking stick, hefting it over a shoulder.
Robin followed him outside into the backyard, a meadow of sorts that Trafalgar tended to, growing certain plants to use in his medicines. Robin was curious by nature and any commotion she heard was a welcome break from the monotony of staying in her dear friend's library all day, sifting through his dreary medical texts.
The sounds of a squabble reached their ears. Based on the low, guttural snarling Trafalgar guessed it was Bepo ready to tear the throat out of an intruder on his territory, but when he crested a hill and found several trees had been relocated and the ground torn up by large claws his eyebrows soared higher up on his forehead. He had thought it would have been the mountain giant back for a visit, but instead he saw a blur of strips that blended rather well with the dark green grasses that made up the pastureland behind his home.
He watched as teeth flashed and Bepo backed into another tree, uprooting it. The flash that continued to dart around him halted mid-step, its agile body half the size of Bepo angled towards the two figures on the hill.
"You attract green tigers from foreign lands now, Mister Trafalgar?"
"It appears that is so," Dr. Trafalgar said, descending the hill, unafraid of what kind of demonic being stood rigid at the bottom. Bepo caught the scent of his master and his fur flattened against his bearish form. By night it was hard for him to keep up the appearance of a horse, and so he reverted back to his more natural appearance, that of an albino bear.
"Bepo, who is our guest?" The bear leered at the tiger, which shone a peculiar green in the moonlight.
"A shapeshifter of sorts. A very rude, impetuous one."
The tiger bristled and, having been exposed by the bear, began to morph into a human shape. Trafalgar was genuinely surprised; it took many years of rigorous training to be able to take the form of a human. He had not asked Bepo to attempt to master it, as he already had his loyal boggart that did the job well enough through imitation, but he didn't doubt that it would take Bepo many seasons to learn how to emulate human flesh rather than fur.
"Are you Sabaody's demon doctor?" the thing asked, deep baritone voice cutting the tense air. Bepo snorted and gnashed his teeth. He was fond of gracious greetings towards his master, not uncouth assertions.
"I suppose I am," Trafalgar said, bringing the tip of his walking stick to the ground and leaning on the handle. "You have a problem you would like me to take a look at?"
The creature padded up to him through the undergrowth, one foot curving in front of another as it walked, reminiscent of a stealthy panther. He was not cat-like in appearance anymore, but distinctly human.
"I come from the city to the far east," the creature told him, having almost the same gravelly voice as Bepo, though it was slightly more sonorous. "I am looking for answers…about this." He bowed his head, and Dr. Trafalgar could clearly see the lush green that sprouted from his head. Algae-like in texture and hue, and grossly unnatural, even for a demon.
Dr. Trafalgar tossed his head towards his dwelling over the hill. His twin sets of earrings glinted ominously in the waning moonlight that the evergreen trees attempted to block out. "Please, join us in my manor. And Bepo, keep vigilant about that bergrisar. I do look forward to a time when I can invite him in for tea."
Bepo's hackles raised, clearly not approving of either the invasive shapeshifter or the mountain giant, but stalked off through the forest to continue his night watch. The greenish beast watched him go, eyes narrowed and skin itching.
"Come with me…"
The small party followed Dr. Trafalgar to his doorstep. He entered first, and then turned to see the apprehension clear on the greenish man's scarred face. He noticed an eye had been permanently damaged from some past tussle with another clawed creature. Robin, too, had stopped just shy of the steps with the wrought iron handrail that led up into the manor.
"You can come in, Robin," Dr. Trafalgar said offhandedly. She nodded and proceeded through the doorway as a spark of recognition flitted across the beast's face.
"She is a…"
"Both of us are. Natural born as well. Now, will you still come in?" The beast narrowed his eyes, attempting to make a decision that would preserve his life. "We feed only on humans, Mister…"
"Zoro."
"Mister Zoro. Do come in. I know precisely what ails you, and it should be a great honour to study your affliction. I am putting together a book of maladies that can affect demons, which will be a great reference for doctors of the future."
The human form eventually ambled up the steps and into the house, and Robin shut the door after him. Trafalgar had already lit an oil lamp overhead, and was in the process of descending on half-spent candles around the home, lighting it up so he could get a better look at the condition the creature was in.
"Well, your hair is certainly a lush green," Trafalgar confirmed, unable to suppress a chuckle. Already he was beginning to formulate additional conclusions. "Where have you been lately?"
"In the peasant's quarters of the city to the east, beyond Sabaody, as I said."
"You have a copper patina, I do believe, and based on what I've seen of the squalor of that city, I would guess your water source is to blame. Whatever you drank during your time in the city has adversely affected you. Water heavy in copper will cause a verdigris effect right down to your hair follicles."
The creature grimaced and Robin wrapped a shawl around his shoulders, quietly asking the man to sit down at the table rather than snarl and appear ready to rip into the doctor's throat. "So, will I die soon?"
"Oh, no, you are perfectly healthy. Think of the condition this way; your body is 'sweating out' an excess of copper through your skin. Of course, that is the elementary way of putting the process. Would you like to hear the scholarly account of this phenomenon, first documented in the far reaches of the North by Dr. Hiluluk?"
"No, I'm only concerned with whether this will go away or not."
Dr. Trafalgar went in for a closer examination, combing his fingers through the man's hair while he sat rigid in a chair with one of Robin's graceful hands on his trembling shoulder. After a few moments of inspection to gauge the depth of this affliction, Trafalgar said, "It will take a while, but it will eventually go away. For now, you are free to stay in the area. I'll see to it that Bepo won't attack you."
Zoro grunted and waved off the two vampires. He was rightfully wary of their close proximity.
"You can sleep on the divan, if you wish," Dr. Trafalgar offered. "I will start you on some tonics in the morning to speed up the expulsion of excess copper from your system. Simply put, however, drinking clean water from any of the lakes around here will cure you of your greenness."
"I'd prefer to sleep outside." The tiger-like man started towards the door. "I will be back in the morning."
Robin watched him with an intensity that Dr. Trafalgar had only seen cross her face when she was deeply engrossed within a book on the anthropological evolution of humans.
"I think I shall keep a closer eye on him, if you don't mind. Don't worry about inviting me back in later," she said. Following the man outside, she shut the door behind her. Dr. Trafalgar just grunted and returned to his studies.
He was still trying to formulate a plan of action for the grandchild of a certain irritable Lord Eustass.
-oOo-
Lord Portgas watched from above on his balcony as a mason and his crew of surly men worked on the old stable's foundation, laying new brick and erasing cracks. He wasn't watching them, specifically, but rather the blonde man in the black suit with sweeping tails, his valet. Marco had personally decided to oversee the repairs, citing that he held certain ties to all the old buildings around the estate, and had made sure his lord was retired to his bedchamber before leaving his side.
The view afforded by the balcony off of his bedchamber had allowed Lord Portgas to examine the man up and down from a distance in the waning light of the setting sun. The mason and his crew were packing up and readying their equipment for the haul back to their business's quarters, and yet Marco still stood vigilant, making sure nothing went wrong. It was not solely the dedication that Lord Portgas admired, but the very man himself seemed as appealing to him as a ripe, young woman.
How he had hoped this wouldn't happen.
He had fled to Sabaody to get away from women, those fickle creatures that taunted and ensnared him, and which he always left in ruin. He had hoped that by living surrounded by wilderness and men for the most part in this eastern manor, just as he had back when he was in the Navy, he'd be cured of the desires manifested in his very being. Now to find that his valet could stir up the same exorbitant sensations within him…it was maddening.
He stepped back inside when Marco's pale blond hair and broad shoulders went out of sight, pulling the doors shut behind him and drawing the floral curtains. He knew the man would act as any good servant would, and retire to sleep immediately in order to rise again early the next day, and that sent a torrent of guilty butterflies into Lord Portgas' stomach.
He sat on the edge of his bed, a silky dressing gown thrown over his shoulders, and waited for two chimes from the grandfather clock downstairs that rang out at each hour. When he heard those, first one and then the other after many minutes of silent reflection, he rose from the corner of his bed and paced. He ought to have gone to bed, but the stirring of animalistic craving in his gut did not lessen at any point in his silent pacing, and he found himself on the landing and looking downstairs with a furrowed brow. The manor was dark, and grotesque shadows crept along the walls, but the lord was in no way deterred.
He descended the steps and hung left, moving with the inborn stealth of a creature of the night. Which, in a rather anomalous way, he supposed he was.
His valet's room, to which he had burst into most unceremoniously yesterday evening, wasn't hard to locate. The door hadn't been closed entirely, and a crack of moonlight shone into the room, enticing him to widen the distance between door and frame. Like most of the manor, the door creaked in mock protest, and Lord Portgas wasted much time regaining his breath after a particularly cacophonic shrieking of the wood and hinges.
At last he drew the door far enough away that he was able to twist through the opening, grazing his chest and shoulders against the rough surfaces. After infiltrating, a perverse sense of satisfaction washed over him, and then more of that murderous desire took over his better judgement.
He crept up to the bedside and observed his sleeping servant. Only a tuff of blond and the profile of a tanned, calm face was visible under the worn quilt. He drew his eyes over every bit of fleshy being, every strand of hair, and listened to the chime of the grandfather clock telling him that he dwelt too long in one position. His limbs ached and shivered as he suppressed a wave of blatant lust.
Just one touch. Tonight he would award himself just one simple, innocent touch.
He fingered the edge of the quilt, felt the heat that radiated out from the body beneath, and slowly drew back a few inches of the blanket, exposing a shoulder knotted with heavy muscle. So unlike the females with white, soft and supple shoulders he had been with in the past, this man's body was strange and foreign. He contained no traces of femininity, yet Lord Portgas could not repress his attraction to him.
He dwelt further on why this could be, listening to the methodical breathing patterns of his valet, and could not come to a conclusion that would satisfy him.
Slowly, being so intimately careful, he reached out over the quilt to touch at the nape of the man's exposed neck, swallowing harshly as a powerful current raced through his boiling blood. He drew back, excited, and then repeated his touch, this time grazing the curve of the man's ear and tracing his fingertips down along a jaw covered in sharp stubble. His touch was so feather light that he didn't worry about rousing the man.
He continued his harmless, chaste petting while his other hand reached down to grip himself through the silky satin of his dressing gown. He knew if he stooped to nuzzle the man's hair with the tip of his nose he would surely lose himself over the edge. He could smell a bit of the man's scent wafting up through the chilly, dank air, and it was enough to fuel a longing in him to get closer. But he repressed the urge. If he didn't, he would violate the man.
And he couldn't have that.
He continued his soft touches, butterfly kisses upon that tanned skin, and groped himself with heady sighs and groans. When he was near to completion he daringly left his palm caress that firm shoulder, and rivulets of white-hot delight coursed through his veins at the connection. The man's skin and scent acted as his aphrodisiac, and the ecstasy that he gleaned at the merest, most modest contact contrived an array of explosions in his body that left him panting and sated.
For this night.
He withdrew mouthing an oath of self-loathing and crept back upstairs, but not before replacing the quilt back in its proper place over that tanned shoulder, erasing his presence there.
The grandfather clock chimed once more before Lord Portgas was settled and fast asleep in his own bed.
-oOo-
Marco dutifully roused Lord Portgas at an appropriate time, which was after all the pheasants had started their day and before the nobles of Sabaody would begin theirs. He assumed his lord would want to rise before noon and when he shook his shoulder, he did not expect to find his lord already awake and groggily blinking up at him.
"Ah, g-good morning, my Lord. Your tea." He placed a platter on a bedside table as his master rose into a sitting position.
"I'll take it downstairs again, Marco. I'm not really the sort to sit in bed once I'm awake and the sun is up." He kept his eyes on the blanket the pooled around his waist, pretending to rub sleep from his eyes. "And do set a place for yourself. Like I said before, I really don't enjoy dining alone on any occasion."
Marco murmured his ascent and slipped softly downstairs to prepare the table in the parlour. Once again he felt as if he couldn't disobey his lord by protesting this strange arrangement, and to say to the man that he'd already eaten would be a mistake.
Lord Portgas dressed himself in clean clothing before going down the steps. His boiling blood was calmer than when he arrived two days ago, and he attributed it largely to what had happened in the wee hours of last night.
He wandered the house listlessly, giving Marco ample time to prepare, before strolling into the parlour to see the man waiting for him. Marco refused to sit until his lord was seated, and Lord Portgas obliged him that much. He knew quite well how much he was pushing the man out of his comfort.
The food was about as appealing to the lord as yesterday's meal had been: savoury cuts of meat, leftovers from the night before where Marco had cooked the shank of a pig, and a warm porridge with herbs from some far off land.
Marco ate his meal slowly, and more often than not his lord caught him staring out of the corner of his eyes, seemingly waiting for disapproval. Disapproval that would never come, as Lord Portgas wasn't exactly one to rebuke for any sort of bad table manners. Especially when he himself was not exactly one for dainty affairs with food.
Both ate their fill and Marco diligently rose without being ordered to clear the table, returning with letters that had arrived earlier in the morning. He had quickly skimmed them and knew that there was another one from Dr. Trafalgar, which piqued a smidgeon of unease in him, another from Duchess Jewelry, and one from the mason Franky and his crew, probably seeking payment for their work.
His lord took in the handwriting over a cup of tea, starting with what appeared the most boring of the letters and finishing with Dr. Trafalgar's fancy script and red rimmed stationary.
"Marco, the mason wants his payment, the Duchess is impatiently awaiting a reply about the invite she sent me yesterday, and Dr. Trafalgar wishes to see me personally. Do you mind running a few errands today?"
Marco's eyebrows rose with the subtlest hint of surprise. "Of course not, my Lord. It is my pleasure. I can certainly take care of any monetary matters, as I did the accounting of your father when he was still alive and consider myself practiced."
The mention of his own flesh and blood made Lord Portgas grimace. "Do," he said simply before relocating to a writing desk in the next room over to pen a quick reply to Duchess Jewelry. He would attend that sordid affair, he decided. He wished to test a few theories anyway, and there would surely be ladies around willing to be his experiment pieces. It would work out fine, or at least that was what he convinced himself as he finished his snappy letter and sealed it in an envelope, dolloping on a wax seal. Too late he realized the sealing stamp had been his father's, the coat of arms of the Gol family being splashed up in a vibrant red in front of his eyes.
That stamp was supposed to be destroyed upon the death of its owner. Curious, then, how it had turned up on the desk exactly where he had been positive he'd placed his own seal yesterday…
With a grunt he nearly tore the letter up and started from scratch, but Marco was standing patiently behind him at the back of the room, and he didn't have the apathy to make the man wait any longer. Then there was the nagging guilt that had surfaced when he awoke to see those blue, crystalline eyes blinking down at him with pure incorruptibility for the exploit that had occurred in that dark room downstairs.
"Please, while you are out at the bank, deliver this letter to the Duchess' estate. I shall be away at Dr. Trafalgar's manor up in the woods of Boin. I do not know how long he'll keep me, but I suspect it will be a day's absence. We are inseparable friends, and when we get together our conversations can get a bit…lengthy."
Marco nodded and left the room, letter in hand. He had not failed to notice how carelessly his new master tossed aside the wax seal that had belonged to his father, or the expression of utter contempt as he glimpsed the hot wax settle onto the folds of the paper. Though it pained him to see how rejecting his lord was of his birthright, the comfort afforded from the man's words on how Dr. Trafalgar was but a friend put his mind at ease.
At least now he could be relatively sure his new master wasn't harbouring an illness underneath that radiant front he put up, much like how old Gol had deceived them all for so long with a false face of health.
A.N.: So, as you all may have noticed, as readers you're going to have to do a bit of inferring when it comes to certain things. I.e., Lord Portgas in Marco's chambers. Yep, I shall say nothing more except that things will get more interesting from her on out for the two.
This chapter was posted today rather than Friday because Friday is going to be busy for me and I wouldn't have had time. So I hope you enjoyed the (slightly) early update and Zoro's green hair. And yes, the good doctor is right with his analysis. I got the idea when I saw an analysis of a legit green cat which had been drinking water that had a lot of copper in it.
Zoro: explained.
