Work Text:
Care to Make a Purchase?
He sees the explosion from his carriage, already making his own escape. The helicopter disappears out of sight, and as the fire dims, the smoke pours into the sky flooding it. The Duke looks at where the village once was, where for many, far too many he thinks, he’s made his living acquiring items for both the Lords and the unfortunate villagers stuck there.
He turns the carriage around.
There’s no harm in looking, he reasons. Just a quick check, ensure Mother Miranda really is gone, that Ethan Winters did the seemingly impossible.
The smell of smoke fills his nose, along with a putrid smell that hangs in the air. The remnants of Ethan and Miranda’s battle are clear. Long, twisted tree roots made of the Megamycete reach into the sky, some grey and crumbled, others still intact. Worryingly, there is no sign of Ethan. The Duke continues through the wasteland, past more crumbled roots, crystalized chunks littering the ground, now black and burnt from the explosion.
The roots lead to a circle, an arena almost. In the middle, is the crystalized remains of Mother Miranda. Six wings, now tattered, her emaciated figure limp. No sign of Ethan however.
“Mr Winters?” he calls.
No answer. Just the sound of the last flames crackling before they dim to embers.
“Ethan?”
Still nothing.
The Duke shifts, then moves out of his carriage. He approaches Mother Miranda’s remains, reaching out to it. It snaps and falls, the tattered wings smashing on impact with the ground. The most of her is saved however, and The Duke picks it up carefully, cradling it. He returns to his carriage, pulls back a curtain and places Miranda with the rest of her lords.
Heinsenberg’s hammer rests next to his remains, Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters are reunited with her, along with her lipstick and necklace. Moreau’s remains sit alone, nothing around him to keep him company, while Angie perches upon the shelf. The lords together along with their various belongings from their domains. It seems only right that they should be kept together, particularly for all the business they provided over the years the Duke visited the village.
He pulls the curtain back, shielding them once more.
He maneuvers himself back to the front of the carriage and heads out. Ethan must be around somewhere, he was falling to pieces - literally - the last time he saw him. Either by some miracle he escaped, or he is on the outskirts somewhere.
The Duke doesn’t have to go far to find him. Ethan lies near the ceremony site, outside of the strange circular area where he found Miranda. Ethan too is crystalized, a torso left, much like Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters. From it, a lily grows, the orange from the fires glinting off of the petals.
“Oh Mr Winters, I am so terribly sorry it turned out this way,” he says.
He picks up Ethan’s remains carefully, carrying him back to the carriage and placing him on its floor. He’ll make room somewhere in the cart, after all, it’s the least he can do with how much business Ethan provided.
He turns the carriage around and leaves the village behind.
~
The Duke acquires knowledge the same way he acquires objects, frequent and ever changing. HIs stock has become quite large and he pours over a map, trying to decide where to set up shop next.
A particularly interesting piece of information crosses his path, the location of Ethan’s beloved family.
Spirited away after the events in the village and Ethan’s death, Mia and Rosemary Winters were tucked away in another house, another temporary home, a secret location only known to a select few. And now the Duke of course.
He wonders what to do with this information, toying with various ideas that cross his mind. His gaze lingers on Ethan’s remains as they sit across from the four lords and Mother Miranda. He couldn’t bear to put Ethan next to them, not after all the trouble he went through just to save his daughter from Miranda’s plan.
His gaze wanders to all that Ethan sold him. The crystal skulls the Duke managed to sell on, some though he kept. Heisenberg’s Soldat creatures, the Duke kept one or two of their mechanical hearts then sold the others on. A precious gemstone here, a necklace there, rings, dolls and other children’s toys. Those surprised the Duke, he thought Ethan would’ve kept them for Rose, though he could see the logic in selling them on. He doubted Ethan or his wife would want anything to remind them of the ordeal they’d gone through and Rose’s disappearance.
A smile slips across his face, and he takes some paper, a pen and picks out an item, then two, before he sits down.
~
He expects it to be sent back to him.
With this newfound knowledge, the Duke put together a small package. A teddy bear Ethan sold him, a ring, necklace and a note informing Ethan’s wife that her husband’s wishes were that these items be passed on to her. She didn’t know this was not the case, poor Ethan spent most of his time believing Mia was dead, and his one link to her was their child.
While he hoped it would bring some small comfort to her, the niggle at the back of the Duke’s mind suggested it would be returned, or he would be faced with BSAA to explain how he knew where Ethan’s family were.
Neither of these things happened.
And so, the packages continued. A doll for Rose from Donna Beneviento’s manor, though the thought briefly passed through his mind to send Angie. A thought that was quashed as quickly as it appeared. Trinket boxes for Mia, other small knick knacks that he knew he wouldn’t be able to sell on or had no use for overall.
Then, one day, a letter arrives at his carriage. It asks one thing, “Why?”.
The Duke replies: “I am dedicated to excellent customer service to all my patrons, even those not currently with us.”
~
There is no further correspondence, not for several years. The packages are sent onward to their destination. Recipes Ethan provided meat for, occasionally ingredients needed for it if the Duke knows they’ll be hard to come by. Any toys he comes across are sent straight to Rosemary, who is at an age that it should amuse her to get a package with her name on it.
The most surprising thing happens one day.
The postmaster passes his carriage in the town he is currently staying in and providing his services to. The man stops, hands him an envelope, and leaves with a nod in his direction.
The envelope is a curious thing. His name is spelt wrong, spelt “Dook”, and it’s written in what appears to be crayon.
Intrigued, the Duke opens it.
Deer Mr Dook ,
Thank yoo for the presant. Mommy liked the resapy yoo sent . It woz very yummy. Pleez send more reesapy.
Yoors sincerely
Rose .
Below her name, she draws a flower, something that makes the Duke smile. He takes some parchment from one of the stationary holders and drafts a reply to her.
With the next few packages, these including more “resapys” at Rose’s request, he adds a letter to it. They are all addressed to Rose, along with an item or two, as well as something for Mia. There is no shortage of pieces to send them, he is forever acquiring new and interesting objects, things he thinks the Winters women will like. He hopes Ethan would approve of this gesture, after all, it is part of the customer service.
With the next few letters the Duke receives, they include recipes from Mia Winters, various dishes from where they are currently living. Somewhere else in Europe, though Rose writes of Mia missing America. The Duke highly doubts they’ll ever go back to America, however stranger things have happened.
He finishes his current letter, seals the envelope and writes Rose’s name on it. He too includes a drawing of a flower on the envelope, then finds a trinket box with roses on it. This is added to the package and it’s ready to send when he finds the postmaster of the town.
~
It’s rare that he stays in one place so long. Truthfully, the only reason he’s stayed as long is Ethan’s family and their communication. He knows he should move on, perhaps see his old friend. His current patrons are loyal enough, frequenting the carriage often and buying items on a regular basis. The coin to be made is stable enough that, should he choose, he could set up a permanent stall here.
His inventory could do with a freshening up, procure a few more oddities and curios. He looks over to Ethan’s remains, still sitting on the shelf.
“I’m afraid Mr Winters, my time here has come to an end,” he tells the crystal torso. “I do hope you’ve appreciated the extended service I’ve provided to your Rose.”
It’s a few days later, and the Duke is in his new premises. There have been a few customers, a few curious souls wondering just what he is peddling. He’s had a few special requests, something he enjoys even now.
Another few days pass when something out of the ordinary happens, but truly, not completely unexpected. A letter arrives and he knows exactly who it is from without even looking.
If Rose or Mia wrote him, Mia with her recipes, Rose with her child’s curiosity about the world, and the letter was returned, of course Chris Redfield would be involved. Or at least the many sources available to him. Of course they would find him and pass on his location. It is no great tragedy, if anything, in the short time he’s been there, he’s missed their correspondence.
The Duke retreats to his carriage, making himself a pot of tea and prepares one of the biscuit recipes Mia sent. He settles down to read it.
Rose tells him of how she’s doing in school, how many friends she’s made. One question leaps out at him from the page:
Mr Duke, did you know my dad well ?
He puts the letter down. Is it his place to tell Rose about Ethan? While they may have met by chance, and initially began their relationship on a purely monetary basis, the Duke came to like him. He must’ve, else Ethan would not still hold a place on the shelf in his carriage.
He sets his tea down, takes his parchment paper and pen, and writes a reply. From the pile of books, he finds one in particular. Ethan’s journal. The drawings in it were exquisite, including the drawing of the Duke himself. He parcels it up, writes a letter to Mia informing her of the item’s presence and leaves it to her to decide if Rose is old enough.
For Rose’s letter, he writes about Ethan for the first time in many years.
~
Rose continues to write him. She thanks him for telling her of her father, something so far Mia has spoken very rarely of. Mia writes him too, also thanking him for his discretion and giving her the choice about Ethan’s journal. It is the least he can do.
In the next letter he receives, Rose mentions it is Ethan’s birthday soon and that Mia is downhearted due to this. She mentions all they have to remember him by is his jacket and the journal the Duke sent them. This clearly had to be rectified.
He goes over to the shelf where Ethan still sits.
“I do hope you’ll forgive me, Ethan,” he tells the crystalized torso. “I’m sure you will, it is for your little Rose after all.” He shrinks the object down, splitting it into two.
He wraps the second in some cloth, then places the other back onto the shelf.
The Duke spends the next few days reading up on funeral arrangements, cemeteries and getting remains shipped for a burial. Once he’s confident, he begins to make arrangements for Ethan. When this is done, he writes to Mia, and Mia alone this time, informing her of the process.
Along with the remains, he sends enough money to cover the funeral, service and headstone.
Mia sends a reply some weeks later, simply containing a date.
~
It’s his first time in America and suspects not his last. His carriage is at the back of the cemetery, in the shadows, hidden and out of sight. The service is beautiful, and more than once does the Duke find he has a lump in throat. Mia drops a lily into the burial plot, the priest wiping his hands and walks away.
Mia spends a few moments alone at the graveside before she stands up. She approaches his carriage and sits on one of the trunks.
“So, you’re the Duke,” Mia says. She doesn’t meet his eyes, nor his face, her gaze is fixed to the ground.
“Indeed, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Winters,” he answers. “Although it seems belated, may I offer my deepest condolences for your, and Rose’s loss.”
Mia sniffs and dabs at her eyes. “Thank you.” She takes a breath. “I didn’t think I had any more tears left in me.”
“Shed as many tears as you feel you need to, my dear.”
“Duke, why have you done all this? Everything over the years, the letters, packages, now this.”
“As I told you before, I dedicate my time to providing excellent customer service.”
~
The Duke returns to his previous premises, letting Mia know where to find him should she have need or the inclination to continue their correspondence. She nods, telling him Rose most likely will wish to carry it on.
In the months that follow, then turning to years, he hears all about Rose’s formative years, her loves and heartbreaks from school, tests and teachers. The day comes when she remarks she’ll be visiting her father soon for his birthday, something that had previously been impossible.
The Duke turns to his carriage, rifling through one trunk in particular. He knew there was a reason to keep these. He fishes out a pair of angel statues, one gold, one silver. They are wrapped in paper and set aside for the next package. He’s sure Ethan will appreciate it from wherever he’s watching from.
Until it is, that Rose mentions Chris Redfield coming to her, asking her to go on a ‘job’. The Duke’s heart sinks. This would not be what Ethan would want for his daughter, the furthest thing from it. He fills out the last few orders he has, delivering the goods to his clients and spends one last day in his carriage, in his current location. The next day, he’s on the move.
~
The Duke meets her in the graveyard where her father is buried. He visits the grave himself, seeing the two angel statues perched at either side of the headstone. He lets a small smile slip across his lips, then busies himself preparing his carriage.
Rose appears at the gates of the cemetery having taken the bus. She approaches, standing at the grave and lays a bouquet of lilies on it. The Duke stays out of sight, letting her spend as long as she wants with her father.
“I know you’re there,” she says.
“Indeed I am, Ms Winters,” he answers.
She stands up from the grave and faces him. She cocks her head to the side. “Mr Duke?”
“The very same. A pleasure to finally meet you after all these years, Rose.” He looks around. “Your mother isn’t with you?”
Rose shakes her head. “Mom and I don’t get along so well these days.”
“Ah, a pity.”
“You said you could help."
The Duke turns back to his carriage. “I believe I can. I am a purveyor of many things Rose, weapons, ammunition, healing salves, information.” He faces Rose once more. “Care to make a purchase?”