Chapter Text
Barok van Zieks was painfully aware that he was living a rather extraordinary life, these days. Granted, his life had never been ordinary to begin with. Born to a noble family and raised in a beautiful manor, he'd had everything he could have ever wished for for the longest time. He'd taken that for granted, he knew now. He had allowed his guard to drop. If he'd just been more vigilant... He had left far too much unsaid, as well.
Some inhabitants of the manor blamed him for their current situation. They were correct to do so. The trouble was, no amount of spite nor fault would fix their situation.
Many years ago, these halls had been the designated venue for wondrous parties. Barok could still vividly remember the excited smile on his brother's face whenever he announced one. Klint had always been close to the townsfolk, had always opened their doors to them. How were any of them to know of the tragedy which would unfold?
Now, almost ten years later, Barok had grown quite accustomed to his new form. The long nails of his paws clicked against the floor whenever he walked. His tail bobbed and swished with the motions of his stride. His larger ears excelled at hearing distant sounds. His nose was broad and squat. Soft fur covered his entire body and while at first he had attempted to keep himself groomed, after so many years he had given up and allowed it to mat together. The thing to bother him most were the fangs, which protruded from his jaw in such a way that they nearly cut into his lips. It made eating a full meal quite the messy ordeal.
He could feel nothing but pity for those who'd been imprisoned in the grounds alongside a monster such as himself. Perhaps it was a blessing that they could not remember the night which had changed them forever. They only knew that they'd held the intent to attend Klint's party, only to awaken the next day, tied to this location through magic. They could not eat, nor sleep. They could not even leave the manor grounds to find their families anymore, nor would their families ever come looking for them. Supposedly, the curse had erased all memory of them from the minds of their loved ones. Barok had never drawn it into question, as it was indeed true that no one from the town had ever traversed the woods to approach the manor.
Not until today.
The first sign that an intruder had made it inside the manor was found in the main hall. A cold breeze tugged at Barok's cloak and blew snow into his face. No inhabitant would have been stupid enough to leave the front doors wide open in the dead of winter.
The second sign that something was amiss came in the form of muddy footsteps, which trailed all the way upstairs and into the study. An unfamiliar man was crouching atop Barok's old desk, fingers running along the spines of several books in the case beside it. He seemed absolutely oblivious to the beast now standing behind him. It was the first time in ten years that Barok had laid eyes on someone unfamiliar and while he was relieved for a split second, he soon became frustrated and uneasy. Strangers had no place here, in this accursed prison. Trespassers had even less of a place here.
“Who are you?!” he demanded, his voice a low rumble. “What are you doing here?!”
The man twisted himself around, but still didn't get down from the desk, nor did he appear at all intimidated by unnatural claws and fangs. Instead, he smiled and held out his hands, almost as if he were welcoming Barok into his very own home. “Who am I? Why, I'm the one and only Herlock Sholmes, of course! Extraordinary inventor and investigator!” the man proclaimed. “That is why I'm here, you see. I'm investigating!”
“You are trespassing,” Barok protested, though his words seemed to have gone unheard.
“It's curious, isn't it? That there's a grand manor out here and we didn't know of it? Don't you think it's curious?” the stranger- Sholmes- prattled on, wagging a single index finger.
“I think it's far more curious that you would hold no shame upon forcing your way in here.”
“You know what's even more curious?” Sholmes asked brightly. “I know for a fact that I have never been here before, and yet... I feel as if I have been here before. Isn't that odd? It's like that feeling... You know that feeling? The one where it seems as if you've forgotten something, but you cannot remember what it is that you've forgotten? And so it just nags at you from the back of your mind?”
“Something is most certainly nagging,” Barok snapped, the last shreds of his composure gone. He grabbed Sholmes by his arm and pulled him from the desk by force. It led to an awkward stumble, but Barok was stronger now than he had ever been and so, he held the intruder upright with ease.
“Ow ow ow- Claws- those are claws-” Sholmes tried to squirm his way out of Barok's grip, only to fail miserably.
“You are not welcome here!” Barok shouted, this time enforcing every single syllable to be certain his words were getting through the intruder's thick skull. “Now tell me the truth! Why are you really here? Have you come to steal? To kill? Or perhaps... to stare at the beast?!”
“Beast? What beast?” Sholmes asked, confused. Barok narrowed his eyes and several long seconds passed before the realization dawned on Sholmes's face. “... Ah. No! It's rude to stare, you see! So you can stop doing it to me!”
Barok didn't even so much as blink.
“I meant no harm! Honest!” Sholmes sputtered. “I think you make a very flattering beast, sir, and so I would only look your way with the utmost respect. However, I had no idea a beast was even living here upon entering, and so, you can't truly fault me for coming across you, now can you?”
“What I can fault you for is your insistence to avoid answering my question. Why are you here?”
“I was just... I was searching for something! Or someone, maybe? I don't know- I've been searching for the answer to the question of what I am searching for, you see! Do you know, perhaps? Just what it is that I'm searching for?”
Barok scoffed loudly. “Your sanity, I would estimate.”
“Oh, no, I still have that, I think.”
“Whatever remained of it will be worn down over time. If you wish to see more of my manor, I will gladly show you to the dungeon, where you will remain for the rest of your days!”
Only now did Sholmes become truly affected by the situation. He blanched and once again attempted to free his arm from Barok's claw, even as he spoke. “The- The dungeon?! Wait- No, I need to return to my home soon! My sweet little Iris is waiting for me!”
“You should have thought of that before you decided to break into my home. Trespassers need to be punished.”
Any further shouts of protest were no more than a waste of energy. Words like “please”, “kind sir” or even “cherry on top” meant nothing to Barok. He dragged Sholmes through the halls and into the south wing of the manor. Several manor inhabitants came out of hiding to watch the commotion, their tired eyes honing in on the strange new presence. By the time they reached the holding cell, Sholmes had become no more than a ragdoll, limp and defeated. Barok tossed him towards the back wall, where he hit the dirty floor and remained a useless husk of a person. The cell's heavy door was slammed shut with such force, the noise must've reverberated all the way through the wing.
Once that was done, Barok spent a long moment doing no more than drawing in deep, heaving breaths. As often happened when he lost his temper, his lungs felt far too small to do their job.
A soft tap sounded from nearby. Barok looked over his shoulder to see Mikotoba standing there. Up until ten years ago, he had been their most trusted physician, called in whenever there was trouble. Now he had very little to work with, for the manor's inhabitants spent their days in something of a daze. There was no opportunity for anyone to become injured, nor had anyone gotten sick over these past ten years. Those who'd been imprisoned here had aged, and yet, they felt stuck in time. Why Mikotoba would have risked confronting a foul-tempered beast, Barok didn't dare question. He didn't need to.
“... Will our guest be taking tea?” the former physician asked.
“He is not a guest,” Barok snarled. “He is a common burglar and will be treated as such.”
“Come now, it's freezing cold in there. A sip of hot tea will do him some good.”
“I forbid it! And I forbid you from going anywhere near him, do you understand?”
“Lord van Zieks, if you would please-”
“No! I need not remind you what happened the last time we opened our doors to strangers. This manor is already filled to bursting with dissent. The situation will only worsen if we were exposed to more vile criminals and death.”
To get his point across, Barok took Mikotoba by the arm, tugging him away from the holding cell as he stomped his way back towards the main hall. There was nothing Mikotoba could do to stop it from happening. The door into the south wing was locked and not until they reached the kitchen did Barok release Mikotoba's arm. Deep down, he knew he was out of line to use such physical force on a man who meant no harm. However, it was for Mikotoba's own good. The last thing he needed was more deaths or more pain, but then, some manor inhabitants were more reckless than others.
From the corner of his eye, Barok saw a young man shoot a disapproving glare his way. That was not limited to the current situation, though; this particular man had been growing increasingly hostile over the past few years. It was fine, really. Barok had no intention of getting along with Kazuma Asogi, or anyone else in this miserable place. No amount of invading strangers would change that.
He snatched up a bottle of wine and left the kitchen, intent on drinking the remainder of the evening away. Still, as he strode back towards his chambers in the west wing, he took a small pocket watch in hand and peered down at it. “You have eleven days, four hours, twelve minutes and forty two seconds until the last petal falls,” the watch announced in a solemn, almost bored voice.
Truth be told, Barok wasn't certain why he'd keep checking the watch at all. It wasn't as if his curse could ever be broken, and so, the deadline made no difference. They were all doomed to live this cursed existence for the remainder of their days. He slipped the watch back into his pocket and sighed, then allowed his claws to run along the wall, pulling deep tears into the wallpaper.
Little did he know, Sholmes's arrival was only the beginning.
----------
Three days had passed since the first incident and now, once again, the front doors were left wide open. Barok held a bitter hope that perhaps Sholmes had escaped his cell and had promptly left the manor grounds. Several days of a cold, dark room and a diet of bread and water would surely leave anyone eager to run without looking back. Just in case, however, he would have a very large bolt installed on the front door to ward off future intruders. And perhaps a chain.
Still, the further into the manor he wandered, the more hubbub his ears caught. The other inhabitants were louder than they had been in a long while. They were excited. Before long, the distant whispers were given form; a girl was in the manor. She'd come searching for her father. Up until now, Barok had taken the idle mention of 'sweet little Iris' to be an excuse. Who had given a man like Sholmes permission to breed?
Just as he entered the southern corridor, someone came running up to him. It was one of the few inhabitants who had shown Barok undying loyalty throughout the years, and sure enough, he was there to provide information.
“Lord van Zieks,” the man began frantically, “I tried to stop them! Honest, I did, but they refused to listen to me! Those whippersnappers can't ever show respect.”
“Calm yourself, Gregson. What exactly is going on?” Barok continued his stride, gaze on the corridor ahead.
Gregson hobbled after him as fast as he could, but his strides were barely a match for Barok's own. “Asogi and his cronies- They found a little girl inside the manor, searchin' for your prisoner! So they stole the key and took her straight to the dungeon! No questions, no warnings, nothin'! They're actin' as if this place is a hotel!”
“I will handle it.”
“And another thing- Graydon got into another fight with McGilded. Graydon threatened to ah... fold him in half and stick him in the oven. Not that I can't say he doesn't have it comin', but we can't have people takin' each other out like that. I tried to keep the peace, but he won't listen to me.”
Barok sighed. Graydon and McGilded had been fierce rivals even before the curse had hit, the both of them vying for the position of most wealthy citizen. How the curse hadn't allowed them to put their differences behind them was anyone's guess. Barok didn't truly think it was any of his business, either. Those two had been Klint's guests, not his. It was a bit aggravating, then, that Gregson was attempting to make it his business in turn.
“Indeed, he would not accept so much as a peep from you. It's hardly your duty to keep these people in line.”
“Well, someone has to,” Gregson barked at him, only to freeze in his steps. “Ah! That is to say... Well, this is Van Zieks manor. And you are a Van Zieks, so...”
“Very few of my unwilling guests heed my words, Gregson. I may attempt to have a word with Graydon, but not until we've removed the trespasser from the manor.”
Gregson sighed in relief, apparently content to get those priorities in order. Ultimately, the sound of the commotion reached Barok long before the sight of it did. Several familiar voices were speaking over one another.
“Maybe jiggle upwards again.”
“She knows what she's doing.”
“Does she though? She's only a child.”
“She got in, didn't she?”
“Ooh, he's got a point.”
“I'm only saying, there haven't been enough upwards jiggles...”
“And what experience do you have with picking locks?”
“Ah...”
“Asogi, can you shed some more light on the situation?”
“I'm doing the best I can!”
Barok turned the corner to find not two, not three, but six inhabitants of the manor grouped around the cell door. Asogi was holding a lantern, doing his best to illuminate the lock in an otherwise dark hallway. Closest to his side was Seishiro Jigoku, Barok knew. Then there was Gina Lestrade, Ryunosuke Naruhodo and Mikotoba's daughter: Susato. Mikotoba himself had shied away from the rest of the group, just barely visible in the shadows cast by Jigoku.
In the middle of it all was their new intruder. Just as rumors had foretold, it was no more than a child. Barok was terrible with estimating ages, and so, he expected her to be anywhere between six and twelve years old. Far too young to be crouching on the floor of a dark, drafty manor. All her attention was on picking the cell's lock.
And then there was Sholmes, pressed up against the other side of the door, arms dangling out through the small hatch that was built in around eye-level. “I think that young man is right, Iris. Try jiggling upwards,” he was saying in a rather hoarse voice.
“There's no point jiggling upwards, Hurley. Trust me,” said the little girl, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Gregson had apparently heard enough. He dashed forward to confront the group and Barok, in turn, instinctively moved himself into the shadows before the details of his appearance could be spotted too easily.
“Hah! You're in trouble now!” Gregson called, causing everyone to look up. “I've brought Lord van Zieks!”
“What's that got to do with us?” Jigoku asked, shrugging.
“We-Well... He's the master of the manor, you see, so-”
“Bugger off, Gregson!” Lestrade snapped, waving one of her arms. “I know you're meanin' well, but we're meanin' better! This wee lil' girl just wants her pops back! Let's let the poor bloke out already!”
“Right! It's bad enough we're all stuck here like prisoners. What's the point of keeping even more people here against their will?” Asogi chimed in.
Gregson's entire body shook in defiance. “Are you all daft? He's seen too much! What if he goes back to wherever he came from and gathers up a whole mob to storm the place? A cursed manor is bound to raise some alarms, don't you think?”
“... Actually, I'm not sure my town has enough people in it to form a proper mob,” Sholmes remarked in a rather casual air.
“Hah! See? He's takin' it into consideration!” Gregson called.
But Barok had heard enough. He smacked a fist into the wall, drawing everyone's attention to himself. “Enough,” he bellowed, his voice deeper and louder than it likely would have been, had he been human. “This poor bloke, as you call him, broke into private property and offered nothing but disrespect. A criminal has only justice to look forward to, wouldn't you agree?”
At once, the entire group was unnerved. Not humbled, rather, frustrated that they could offer no comebacks. But then there was the girl, Iris, who rose to her feet, full of determination. When she took several steps closer, Barok moved backwards in order to keep his distance. His appearance would certainly horrify someone so young and pure. Though her eyes narrowed to try and see him better, she must not have been able to make out the details.
“... Take me instead,” she said.
Several of the manor inhabitants gasped with horror. As for Barok, he managed no more than stifled breath in the back of his nose. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“If indeed the act of breaking and entering warrants imprisonment, then you ought to take me in Hurley's stead. I did the same thing he did, after all.”
“... By that logic, I ought to imprison you both,” Barok pointed out, exhausted by the mere notion of following through on such a thing. Iris must have taken note of that.
“Maybe. But I take full responsibility for Hurley's actions. He's often confused, you see. I should have stopped him from coming here, but I let my guard down. It's my fault that he was here. Now he's sick and he needs to be tended to. It's only fair, then, that he returns home to get the care he needs while I remain here.”
“Iris! Don't!” Sholmes called out, one hand attempting to reach out to her through the hatch in the door.
For a moment, Barok weighed the suggestion in his mind. Ultimately, it didn't sit right with him. Just as Asogi had said, there were already more than enough people here against their will. To subject a young girl to such a thing... It wasn't right.
“I refuse,” he said, and for a split second, everyone looked offended. That was why he was quick to continue on. “The both of you are free to go.”
Iris raised both hands to her open mouth, confused. “We're...?”
“Lord van Zieks!” Gregson protested, but Barok pretended not to have heard him.
“So long as neither you speaks a word of what you have seen here, I will let you off with a warning. Leave this place and never return.”
With that said, Barok tossed the key towards Iris's feet. However, in doing so, his arm was subjected to some of the light emanating from Asogi's candles. There was recognition in the girl's eyes, then apprehension.
“Ah... Can you step into the light?” she asked quietly.
In truth, Barok had no desire to do so. However, he had no doubt that a hideous beast would ensure this girl's departure, along with a healthy fear of ever returning. Therefore, he did as was requested and stepped forward. His enormous paws, his tattered clothing, the unflattering angle of his fangs; it was all in plain view now.
Iris did not recoil, nor even start. If anything, she appeared to be impressed. “Whoah... Look at that... Here I was, expecting you to be a talking bear or something of the sort...”
“Tch. Lord van Zieks is ten times worse than your average bear,” Asogi remarked with a bitter tone of voice.
Barok snarled under his breath. “Did you think I wouldn't prefer a bear's snout over this?” he asked, gesturing towards his misshapen face with his right claw.
Asogi said nothing.
“And you,” he snapped at Iris. “This doesn't intimidate you?”
“Why would it intimidate me?” Iris asked.
“Because... Well.” Barok gestured at his face again.
“I think you look warm and fluffy!” Iris said cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “Besides, you're actually a kind gentleman, aren't you? If your friends aren't afraid of you, I don't see why I should be.”
Heat rose in Barok's cheeks, though if indeed he were blushing, no one would ever know. “Take your father and leave,” he said curtly.
Iris blinked, then finally snatched the keys up from the floor and approached the cell. “Here you are, Hurley. Let's get you home.”
Much to Barok's dismay, the opening of the door did not lead to a speedy departure. Instead, it became quite clear why Sholmes had been dangling himself from the hatch in the first place. Now that he no longer had the door's support, he fell to his knees in the corridor. Iris caught him just in time to avoid a collision between his face and the floor.
“Hurley, are you alright?” she asked, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Oh no... You're burning up...”
Barok chanced a glance towards Mikotoba and instantly regretted it, for there was a frown more judgmental than anything such a kind man could ever have mustered up before. It had gotten awful cold in the cell, apparently. Much more cold than Barok could ever have imagined, for his fur served as his own personal coat at all times.
“Go on, get him out of here,” he said.
“I don't know if he can walk all the way back to town...” Iris mused aloud.
“Well, let's get him to a bed here, then,” Naruhodo suggested. “We've got more than enough of them to spare.”
“Now hold on just a-” Barok began, but there was no point. Already, everyone had opted to forget he was even there. The delight on Iris's face had him forego the option of even trying to stand his ground.
“Really? You mean it?” she asked.
Susato Mikotoba clasped her hands together with delight. “Of course, of course! He can recover in one of the guest rooms! We'll light a fire in the fireplace, get him all tucked in.”
“It's the least we can do after this dreadful ordeal he's been put through,” Jigoku chimed in.
Lestrade was already leaning forward to try and lift Sholmes into a standing position. “Oy, Gregson. Why don't you make yerself useful an' dash on down to the kitchen to fetch our guests sum grub?” she asked.
“What- This- I can't-” Gregson sputtered. He attempted to look to Barok for assistance, but that was a pointless gesture. Barok had already turned and was now beginning to walk away. Gregson chased after him. “Lord van Zieks, you can't earnestly be allowing this!”
“My disapproval is meaningless here. They've already made up their minds. Give it time. In a day or two, our unwanted guests will be gone and everything will return to normal.”
He could never have estimated how very wrong he was.
----------
The next day, Barok attempted to take his mind off things by tending to the rose garden. The vineyard was his own personal turf, as it always had been, but the rose garden... That had been Klint's favorite. His wife's as well. Barok couldn't bear the thought of it falling into disrepair. Apart from that, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do with his time. His sharp claws ensured that he could easily trim the plants down to a manageable size and any water he needed, he could get from a well in the middle of the garden. They didn't need much of it, as it'd snowed quite a bit in the past few days, but today's weather was dry and overcast. He didn't want to take any chances.
Usually, tending the flowers offered him peace of mind. Today, however, that peace was disturbed. Iris came running up to him just as he was kneeling down before one of the smaller bushes.
“Good morning, Lord van Beasts!” she said, full of cheer that Barok found to be misplaced.
He cringed a bit before straightening his expression out once more. “... It's Van Zieks.”
“Ohhh... That does make more sense, doesn't it? Zieksies it is! I wanted to thank you for inviting Hurley and myself to stay in your lovely home.”
Barok looked over his shoulder just in time to see that Iris had dipped into a brief curtsy. He managed to stop himself from scoffing, instead turning his attention back to the roses. “I never extended any such invitation,” he said.
“Weeell... You haven't forced us to leave, and so, that still warrants gratitude,” Iris reasoned. “I know Hurley can be a handful, so I apologize if he got on your nerves. He's not a bad person, I promise.”
“How is he doing?” Barok asked, though not entirely out of concern for the man. He simply wanted to know when he and Iris might be fit to leave.
“He's got a very bad fever. I don't think he really knows what's happening. But I'm sure he'll be just fine! Some your friends came and brought us dinner. And then they stayed in the room for another hour or two, just to chat.”
Barok scoffed. “They are not my friends. And they must be exceptionally bored. Pray forgive their rambunctious behavior.”
“O-Oh, no, that's nothing to apologize for! It was nice. I never really get to meet new people. Hurley probably would've enjoyed it too, were he properly conscious for it.”
“Perhaps that's for the best. Your father seems the sort who would draw all the attention to himself, leaving you with very little room to speak.”
There was a long moment of silence. Barok didn't realize Iris had walked up to him until she was crouching down by his side. Her eyes went from the roses to Barok's face, and so, he instinctively backed himself away a bit. Why she'd dare to get so close to him at all, he couldn't fathom.
“Can I ask you something?” Iris folded her arms atop her knees, looking thoughtful. “Why do you keep calling Hurley my father?”
Barok blinked, taken aback even further. “Ah- Because, well... Is he not...?”
“I wouldn't call my own papa Hurley... That would be weird.” Iris leaned forward even further, now resting her chin atop her arms as she gazed towards the roses before her. “Hurley... He found me when I was very little. He didn't need to take me in, but he did it anyway because he's just that sort of person. I'm all that he has nowadays, you see. That's why I couldn't let you keep him.”
“Oh. I see,” was all Barok could really think to say. He took hold of the water bucket and moved himself into a standing position, his massive figure now towering over such a lithe girl. “I hope he recovers soon, then.”
More than prepared to retreat to his chambers, he turned and began to walk away. Still, a call from Iris caused him to freeze in his tracks again.
“Wait, Zieksies!” Several seconds passed, then Iris dashed into his field of vision, blocking his escape route. She was smiling once more. “I really love your garden. I have my own back home, but it's nothing as grand as this. Only a few herbs for tea and such. Do you think... Tomorrow, I can help you tend to the flowers?”
“Should you not be tending to your... Your Hurley, instead?” Barok asked.
“Oh, no, there isn't much to be done for him right now, I don't think... It's probably better if I do something more productive while I wait.”
For a split second, Barok was tempted to assign a menial chore to Iris, for if productivity was what she desired, productivity he would provide. Still, a distant memory crossed his mind. Something quite painful. It was a vivid image of Klint, digging a deep pond in this very garden with his own two hands. Barok had offered to help him back then, only to be hastily shooed away. Klint's wife, eight months pregnant at the time, had become unwell. He'd needed something to take his mind off the situation. And so, deep into the night, he'd kept on digging.
“... Fine. You may tend to the garden tomorrow,” Barok said. “And the vineyard, perhaps.”
“Hurray! I won't let you down, Zieksies!”
Barok had no energy left to correct Iris on the nickname, nor did he see a point to it. It was fine. This was fine.
To Be Continued