Chapter Text
It was always the same. The same faces, the same talk, even the same music. The men stood talking of their various successes as if everyone hadn’t heard the story a dozen times before, while the woman tried to out-do one another by showing off their latest jewel or sharing the juicer piece of gossip. It was the sort of place where anyone that was anyone wanted to be, but for Lord Victor Nikiforov it was just another party he was socially obligated to attend. And he was bored.
A servant passed by, and he helped himself to a drink he didn’t actually want. It was something to occupy himself with while he pretended to be interested in the current conversation, what were they talking about again? Land? Trade? He had no idea, nor did he care enough to find out. It was all the same boring talk anyway.
“Did you hear? That thief struck again last night.”
Well, now that was a change in topic.
“No, who?”
“Lady Norrington,”
“I was wondering why she wasn’t here. What was taken?”
“Not much from what I heard. A few small pieces of jewelry and some silver. Nothing she can’t replace but…”
“The wealth she has and that’s all they took? Not a very competent thief if you ask me.”
Victor listened as he sipped at his champagne. The robberies had started about a month ago, or rather, that was the first anyone noticed things had gone missing. Thus far there had been six confirmed incidents, but only two of them reported anything of real value being taken. The rest had all been minor things. Things that were not immediately missed and easily replaced. What was even more baffling, there didn’t seem to be any connection between the victims. Age, gender, wealth, they all varied. Even the homes that had been invaded were no-where near each other, it was as if they had been chosen at random. What’s more, the thief left no trace of himself so there were no clues, no leads as to how he could be caught. The authorities were beside themselves.
“Well I know one thing,” a boisterous voice declared.
Victor blinked and looked towards its owner, as did the rest of the party-goers. Their host, the Lord Jean-Jacques Leroy stood at the center of the room with his trademark grin. Victor had a feeling he knew what was coming.
“That thief wouldn’t dare come near my house.”
“You’re not worried Lord Jean?” a woman asked.
“Why would I be?”
“The authorities have no idea how the thief is picking his targets,” another said. “He could strike any of us.”
Lord Jean waved his hand dismissively. “Madam, I am Jean-Jacques Leroy. My family was one of the founders of this great city. If that’s not enough to deter such actions I don’t know what is.”
“If you ask me I’d say that would be more of a reason to target you,” a man said.
Lord Jean gave him a look of bemused indifference before his eyes fell on Victor.
“What say you Lord Nikiforov? You family were also founders were they not? Surely you do not fear this simple thief?”
All eyes turned towards Victor, how did Lord Jean always manage to drag him into his boastings? With a mental sigh he set his glass down.
“I don’t know if fear is the right word, but I do believe caution is important. As the lady said, there seems to be no rhyme or reason as to how he is picking his targets.”
Lord Jean scoffed. “You can keep your caution. I guarantee my house is safe.”
It took everything Victor had not to roll his eyes.
“For your sake Lord Jean, I hope you’re right. Now I must apologize, I think the champagne has gone a bit to my head. Might I use your washroom?”
“It’s down that hall there,” Lord Jean said, waving his hand half-heartedly towards a hallway to his right before turning away to continue declaring why the thief wouldn’t bother him to anyone who would listen. This time Victor did roll his eyes before making his way towards the hallway.
He had been to Lord Jean’s house a number of times before, but had never ventured out of the main room so he really had no idea where he was going. Thankfully he didn’t actually need the washroom, but much longer in his hosts presence and his carefree persona wasn’t going to last. Maybe he could use his champagne ruse as an excuse to leave the party early? It was certainly an appealing idea, but then again it could give Lord Jean more reason to draw attention to him. He could just hear the man’s demeaning tone now.
“I never knew you were such a lightweight Lord Nikiforov! One glass of champagne and you’re calling it quits? Why I could drink an entire bottle and not feel a thing!”
No, he wasn’t about to put himself through that, he would just have to suffer through it. With a sigh, he looked around—he might as well use the washroom while he was here. At the very least he could splash some cold water on his face to try and get his head back into things. There were half a dozen doors in the hallway around him, none of which hinted at what might be behind them. He didn’t want to start poking around Lord Jean’s house, but he wasn’t quite ready to return to the party either. Considering his
options, he decided to try a couple doors and if he didn’t find what he was looking for he would give up. Sizing up the doors, he tried to make a guess as to which was the one he wanted but he had no idea. With a shrug he picked one at random and gave the knob a test turn, it moved easily. The door was unlocked. He supposed that was as good a sign as any he wouldn’t be completely overstepping his boundaries by going in, so he turned the knob fully and pushed the door open.
The room on the other side was dark, the only light being from the moonlight shining in through the window. Bookshelves, desk, a couple chairs—definitely not the washroom. With a sighhe started to turn away, but something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked back and felt his body go rigid, he wasn’t alone. A figure stood in the shadows just outside the cone of light shining in through the window, Victor had almost completely missed him and wasn’t entirely sure how he had managed to notice him. The intruder was slim and looked to be shorter than him, though he couldn’t tell much more beyond that. He couldn’t see the person’s face, but Victor knew he was looking at him. Victor tried to move but his feet refused to listen, it wasn’t until the figure turned towards him that he was able to stumble backwards.
“Someone come quick!” he shouted. “There’s-”
His words caught in his throat as the figure rushed towards him with more speed than Victor had been expecting. In what seemed the blink of an eye the figure had crossed the room to reach him. Before Victor could react, the other person grabbed him and pulled him to the side of the door, shoving him roughly against the wall. This close, Victor was able to see the other person a bit better, though it didn’t do him much good. The intruder was dressed in dark clothes the likes of which he had never seen before. They were almost form fitting with a hood that covered the intruder’s head, while a piece of fabric covered the lower half of his face. The only thing visible were the intruder’s eyes, eyes that were fixed intently on Victor’s own, and Victor could do nothing but stare back. The intruder’s eyes were dark in the faint lighting from the moon, if Victor had to guess he would say they were brown but there was something else about them, something unique. Something that made Victor want to stare into those eyes until he figured out what. Before he could do that however the intruder reached for something on his belt and Victor felt his blood run cold. He closed his eyes, certain he was about to die, but rather than feeling the sharp blade of a knife he felt… light-headed? That didn’t seem right. And why was he suddenly smelling something sweet? Taking a chance, he gingerly opened one eye and then the other. The intruder still had his eyes fixed on his face, watching him intently as if he was waiting for something to happen. Victor took a chance and tore his eyes away from the others gaze look at what he had grabbed. The intruder was holding a small glass vile under Victor’s nose—now he knew where the sweet smell was coming from. He looked back up at the intruder and as he did his vision became fuzzy and his body grew heavy. The intruder released him and took a few steps back, sealing up the vile as he did so. Victor swayed, he put a hand against the wall to steady himself, but it didn’t help. Darkness was creeping in at the edge of his vision, and he was powerless to stop it. He reached a hand out for the intruder, taking a drunken step towards him, intending to get a hold of him and demand to know what he had done. The intruder didn’t move, in fact he seemed completely unconcerned as he watched and waited. Victor managed another step towards him before the darkness took him fully and he collapsed to the floor unconscious.
“Someone get a doctor.”
“What do you suppose happened?”
“He said something about the champagne going to his head.”
“Did he even drink that much?”
Voices. There were voices around him, didn’t they know he was trying to sleep? More importantly, why were they even in his room? He tried to ask, but he was too groggy to form words, words that someone could understand anyway.
“I think he’s waking up.”
“Lord Nikiforov? Are you all right?”
Victor slowly opened his eyes. There were a dozen or so blurry figures standing above him, or maybe he was seeing double—he couldn’t be sure. One thing was for certain, his head was spinning and he had to close his eyes tightly to fight back the urge to be sick.
“Lord Nikiforov?” one of the voices asked carefully. Whywere these people in his room?
He opened his eyes again, but rather than try and focus on the faces of the people around him he stared up at the ceiling, the solid white marble a relief to his eyes. Victor blinked. Marble? His ceilings weren’t marble. He took a chance and looked at the people around him again; men in fine suits, women in glittering gowns, clothes perfectly befitting a party… Party, the memory hit him like a slap to the face. He wasn’t home, he was at a party being hosted by Lord Jean-Jacques Leroy. In an attempt to escape Lord Jean’s over-confident boastings Victor had been looking for the washroom, but had instead found…
He sat up suddenly, eliciting gasps from the people around him. The sudden movement made his vision spin, causing him to sway and he again had to close his eyes. A firm hand gripped his shoulder to steady him.
“Easy now.”
“Lord Jean,” he said, slightly breathless. “Where is Lord Jean?”
“I’m right here.”
The voice was to his left. He opened his eyes once again and looked over as the man knelt down, looking genuinely concerned. That was something you didn’t see every day.
“Are you all right?” Lord Jean asked.
“Your study,” Victor said, ignoring the question. “There was someone in your study.”
More gasps, followed by whispers. Lord Jean glanced around at the nearest guests before turning his attention back to Victor.
“What are you talking about Lord Nikiforov?”
Victor pointed to the room in front of him.
“I wasn’t sure where I was going, so I tried that room at random and there was someone in there who certainly didn’t belong.”
All eyes turned to Lord Jean, who continued to stare at him a moment before abruptly standing and hurrying into the room. As soon as he was gone the attention returned to Victor.
“Was it the thief?”
“Did he attack you?”
“Did you try and fight back?”
“What did he look like?”
Victor leaned back slightly, holding his hands up against the onslaught of questions. He really shouldn’t have been surprised by this reaction, this incident would be enough to keep the gossipers talking for weeks! But his head was still a little fuzzy from whatever it was the intruder had done to him and he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.
What hadhe done? What had been in that vile? Victor was familiar with sleeping draughts—he used them himself from time to time when he was having difficulty sleeping—but those needed to be drunk, and usually took a little while to take effect. So what had been in that vile that knocked him out completely in less than a minute?
Lord Jean returned to the doorway just then, looking shocked and confused, all eyes turned towards him.
“Lord Jean?” someone asked.
Lord Jean didn’t respond right away, but when he did he sounded deflated.
“Someone was here… They didn’t get anything, but things are definitely moved around…” He fixed his eyes on Victor. “What happened
Victor glanced around as the attention shifted to him, he took a moment to compose himself before delving into the story of what happened. He left nothing out—not that there was much to leave out—and as he spoke the rest of the guests were silent, some of them Victor thought had even stopped breathing. When he finished he looked to Lord Jean, whose face was unreadable as he allowed everything Victor had said to process.
“And you didn’t see his face at all?” he asked after a while, Victor shook his head.
“His head and face were pretty well covered, all I could see were his eyes.”
Victor thought back to the thief’s eyes, how something about them had stood out and drawn him in. There had been determination in those eye, but also something else, something that Victor was still trying to figure out. Sadness perhaps? No that didn’t seem quite right, they had almost looked… apologetic. Like he was sorry for what he was doing, but that couldn’t be right either, why would a thief feel bad about breaking into someone’s house? Or was it what he had done to Victor that he felt bad about? It seemed plausible, and if that were the case then maybe this thief wasn’t as bad as many believed him to be. Victor decided to keep that thought to himself, he seriously doubted his fellow nobles would see things that way, and the last thing he needed was to be pegged as sympathetic towards a thief. Besides, even if the thief had some redeemable qualities it still didn’t excuse his other action.
“So much for your boastings Lord Jean,” a man suddenly said. “Guess you’re not as invulnerable s you thought.”
Lord Jean didn’t respond, but a twitch in his eyebrow gave away just how angry he was. No doubt in Lord Jean’s eyes the thief had made a fool of him after how he had so confidently declared that the thief wouldn’t dare try and rob him. This incident would place the man firmly in the middle of the gossip circles—a position he practically lived for any other time—for a long time. Victor felt a little sorry for him. Lord Jean could be obnoxious and unbearable at times, but he wasn’t an overall bad person. Although maybe this hit to his ego would force him have a little more tact and be less of a showboat.
The atmosphere became tense after that, too tense for a party so many decided it was a good time to take their leave—Lord Jean didn’t try and stop them. Victor decided to take advantage of the situation as well. He still felt a little groggy from whatever the thief had used to knock him out—a far better excuse than blaming the champagne—and very much wanted to go home and rest. As he took his offered coat from one of the servants he turned to his host.
“I hope you will forgive me for taking my leave so suddenly Lord Jean. After all that has happened I’m not feeling quite myself.”
Lord Jean waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes of course, the party mood was rather ruined anyway. I intend to report this incident to the authorities first thing in the morning.”
Victor swallowed down his annoyance at having been brushed off so easily, that was Lord Jean after all.
“I would certainly hope so.”
“They will most likely want to speak with you, can I trust you to tell them what happened?”
“Of course, though I don’t know how much help it will be. As I said I didn’t get a very good look at him.”
I’m sure they will take whatever information they can. And who knows, you may remember something else.”
Victor didn’t know what else Lord Jean thought he might remember but he nodded anyway.
“If they come to see me I’ll tell them everything I can.”
“Thank you.”
Lord Jean gave his own short nod and bid Victor good evening before turning his attention to another group of departing guests, who Victor noticed were paying more attention to him than their host. That was Victor’s cue to get out, he knew what they wanted, and he was in no mood to entertain. Not feeling the least bit sorry about it he pulled his coat on as he made his way to the door and out into the cool night before they could disengage themselves from Lord Jean. Once he was away from the manor he drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly, he was looking forward to getting home, curling up with his dog, and putting this whole night behind him.
Just as Lord Jean had predicted the authorities did indeed come to speak with him the following morning. Not that Victor had doubted they would, the case of the thief was growing more and more serious, so the authorities were desperate for whatever information they could get. Unfortunately, as Victor had predicted the information he had to offer them wasn’t all that helpful, though they were intrigued by the vile of knockout perfume as Victor had come to call it—it was the best thing he could think of to describe it—and decided to check with the local apothecary to see if it was something they had ever heard of. With any luck they could track down anyone who had bought the necessary ingredients.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” Victor said as they readied themselves to leave.
“Not at all,” one of them said. “This is the first real clue we’ve had since this whole mess started. Though I highly recommend you get yourself to a doctor, there’s no telling what was in that stuff and it could have some negative effects on you.”
Victor couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t think he had anything to worry about. If the thief had wanted to hurt him he would have done so rather than just putting him to sleep. He didn’t tell this to the authorities however, such rationing would likely make him look mad, so he simply assured them he would before bidding them good day and closing the door. As he stood there he wondered if maybe he was a little mad. Their concerns weren’t unreasonable, but he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned. Not for the first time since last night he thought back to the thief’s eyes. Fierce and determined, he had seemed completely unfazed by Victor’s unexpected appearance. They were the eyes of someone who wasn’t going to let anything, or anyone, stop him. But there had been something else there as well, just under the surface, something that Victor couldn’t quite place. What drove him Victor wondered. What made that determination burn so brightly in those dark eyes? The items he took were easily replaced, and in most cases not immediately missed, so gaining wealth didn’t seem to be his goal. What was he after?
Victor gave his head a good shake, he was putting way too much thought into this. A thief was a thief. Sooner or later he was going to slip up, get caught, and that would be the end of it, his reasons hardly mattered. Right? Victor let out a sigh and turned away from the door, he needed to get his mind off this. Fortunately, he had plans later that day so hopefully that would act as a distraction. But first, breakfast sounded like a good idea. Pushing all thoughts of the thief and his eyes from his mind he made his way towards the dining room, wondering what the cooks had prepared today.