Chapter Text
“This is not what I had in mind when I set out for Verglas,” Fisk muttered darkly to himself as he crawled through the hedge of the Giltenmuir estate. He was not a small man. There would be a very noticeable hole in the shrubbery come daylight. Yet here he was, a thick rope wrapped around his waist to get his new ally down to ground level.
He might well get caught, interrogated, and executed for breaking into the home of such a wealthy and powerful man. There were guards on the property and city watch patrolling the streets. Fisk did his best to shove thoughts of all of that away, focusing instead on Darrin awaiting him in the window several floors above.
“I never could have imagined doing this for anyone other than a stunning lady,” he continued dryly once he shook himself free of the grasping branches and stood, glancing both ways before darting to the side of the building.
He counted the windows in the upper floors, hoping he got it right as all the windows were dark. The last thing he wanted to do was climb up and into the wrong room, perhaps one where someone else would be sleeping…
Fisk shook that thought away. If he dwelt on the possibilities too much he may not go through with it, and then he would be completely without allies. Sooner or later he would be risking death and torture almost no matter what he did, so if his courage couldn’t even handle this he may as well give up and go hide in Baris.
The outside of the mansion was made of rough stone, and between that and the elaborate moldings trimming the windows, climbing was not difficult for the country boy that Fisk was. He’d grown up climbing trees and sometimes smaller cliffs for the fun of it, and none of those had quite as large and solid footholds.
Only a few moments later he tapped against the glass in the window he thought was Darrin’s, and it opened immediately to admit him. Fisk scrambled in and turned to face his ally, who wore an eager smirk and carried a relatively small bag on his lap.
“You're late,” Darrin hissed. Fisk, unfamiliar with the streets of Sarthe, had gotten a little bit lost in all the buildings and people on his way.
“It’s not that late,” he said defensively, but Darrin’s scowl didn't falter. Fisk maintained his stare, and after a moment the young lord looked away.
“This is a foolish waste of time we don't have,” Darrin muttered, maneuvering his chair as close to the window as possible and tossing the bag down onto the lawn. .
“So how’s this going to work?” Fisk asked. To some extent he already knew. There was no way Darrin, coddled and contained and never given an opportunity to grow strong, could lower himself down the rope. Yet many would find being carried down demeaning, and the last thing Fisk wanted to do was start out a working relationship by making his partner feel humiliated in some way.
Darrin didn’t flinch as he managed to maneuver himself out of the chair and onto the windowsill without his legs so much as twitching on their own. He glanced down to the ground, his lips tightening the only hint to his dislike of the situation.
“You can safely tie the rope to the bedpost, it’s solid. Then I will need you to carry my chair down. I’ll get a more portable one made as soon as I can, but it isn’t something that my father would have seen the need for me to have.”
“And then?”
“We go to my cousin’s manor. They’ll be able to get us into a party.”
Fisk scoffed. “Us? I don’t exactly fit in with the nobles.”
“That is why when we’re out in public you will act as my manservant.”
Fisk’s face twisted in incredulity and he gestured down at his road dust covered clothing. “I don’t look like a manservant either!”
Darrin did grimace a little as he took Fisk in with another appraising gaze. “You might have to wait outside until we can get you something new and clean.”
The blacksmith snorted. “Mighty generous with my money, are you? We don’t have that much to burn, and unless we’re staying with your cousins we’ll already need to pay for a roof over our heads tonight.”
“We’ll have more soon enough, you’ll see,” Darrin insisted, then squished himself to one edge of the window sill. “Come on, our time is even more limited than our money at the moment.”
“You make a lot of promises,” Fisk muttered, but he secured one end of the rope to the bedpost as suggested and then the other to the chair to lower it to the ground. It took some effort to get it out the window, and he winced every time it scraped against the side of the building on the way down.
He was bracing for the shouts when someone woke, or when a guard caught a glimpse of the odd device, yet no such noise pierced the night before it rested on the ground and he released the rest of the slack. He turned to Darrin, still unsure of how to broach the topic of the nobleman’s descent.
Darrin reached for the rope slowly, wrapping his hands around it and tugging experimentally. “Perhaps you should go down first.”
Still Fisk hesitated. If Darrin wanted to do this, a large part of him didn’t want to stop him. But if he fell, they’d both be in a lot of trouble and Darrin could be seriously injured from this height. The mission he intended to start could well end tonight.
“Have you ever done anything… like this?” He asked, gesturing vaguely.
Darrin scowled. “You don’t think I can do it.”
Fisk leaned over to look at how far the other young man would have to climb down without the use of his feet to push off of the building and shook his head. “I don’t. And if this goes wrong…”
“I know,” Darrin snapped, then exhaled. His jaw clenched until he finally nodded. “Fine. Get me out of here.”
The descent was awkward. There was no other word for it, but there was no way around it either. So when they were safely on the ground they didn’t say anything by unspoken mutual agreement until they were on the street and wheeling down the dark streets.
What followed was very tempting to think of as fun. Moving swiftly down the deserted streets, dodging horse manure, turning sharply when Darrin finally made out the street markings in the dim light once they were almost past them. The young noble was tossed around rather a lot, but he couldn’t completely muffle the soft chuckles or the smile at feeling wind in his hair.
“You’ve never been where we’re going, have you?” Fisk asked in a low voice when they almost raced past yet another turn.
“I have! Just… Not recently. And usually with the curtains drawn. The maps I’ve seen are enough!”
Fisk laughed under his breath, but chose not to waste his breath in arguing. Instead he leaned forward a little bit more and sped up, making Darrin grip his armrests uneasily.
“There!” The noble pointed as they passed a gate in an otherwise unbroken white wall. Fisk stopped so abruptly that Darrin was almost thrown out of his seat altogether, but the glare he sent Fisk’s way was contrasted by the twitch of a smile at his lips.
“This is the place?” Fisk asked. He’d never been anywhere this fancy in his life, and for all his determination he felt far out of his depth.
“Yes. Go right on up to the door and pull the rope, then tell the butler that Giltenmuir is here to see Beren and Katriona. Give him this card, then wait for him to pass on the message. You can help me get up the steps while we wait.”
Fisk took the proffered piece of thick parchment and did as he was told, despite the odd gnawing in his stomach. The butler looked him over with clear distaste, but the man took the card and disappeared long enough for Fisk to muscle the odiously heavy chair up the marble steps. Darrin muttered a few unpleasant things under his breath, and Fisk almost laughed at the variety of vocabulary the shut-in had somehow managed to acquire.
The butler returned to the doorway. “Please enter.” Fisk pushed the chair through the entryway, following the butler down the long corridor. The visitors were ushered into a study full of dark wood and heavy, expensive furniture. A fire was sputtering to life in the hearth.
The man behind the desk looked about the same age as Fisk, or perhaps a little younger. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and Fisk was certain he had a gaggle of girls following him around anytime he went into society.
“What is the emergency, Uncle?” he asked as he looked up from his papers. “Oh! Darrin. I thought it was your father. What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Brother?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Darrin asked with a sardonic grin. “I’m finally escaping. And I’m not going back this time.”
Beren’s eyebrow went up and he came around the desk, leaning against the front edge. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I’m not twelve anymore. I’ve got a manservant that’s not on my father’s payroll, and I’ve got a plan this time.”
Beren eyed Fisk, who stood in his best snooty posture. “Looks more like a blacksmith than a valet, Brother. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I need someone capable of handling my chair,” Darrin reminded, quieter but sharper.
Beren held both hands up in front of him. “Fine. What do you need from me? I can’t bankroll this venture. I could probably get you some appropriate clothes for the gorilla."
“I don’t need you to bankroll it. I just need a place to stay for a night or two, and then an invite to the next big social event. Then I’ll be out of your way.”
“What’s an invite going to do? You know I love you, Brother, but I wouldn’t be doing you any favors to hang you out to dry in front of those judgmental snipes.”
Fisk watched Darrin hesitate, could see him considering how much of what he had in mind he wanted to tell this other man. “I need to get into the games. The money the lords lose without a blink of an eye will be enough to get me started, and I can’t make that much that fast in any common tavern.”
“So bet at the arena. No socialization necessary.”
Darrin made a discontented noise. “That’s a lot more risky. I know the cards. I’ve never even been to the arena. I’d rather have the control to pull back if necessary and minimize any loss, and I won’t have that watching the gladiators.”
Beren gestured to the valet. “What’s his problem?”
Fisk hadn’t even realized how hard his face was going or how his fists clenched at his sides. Darrin barely glanced at him, the young lord’s face hardly changing. If that was his poker face, Fisk could only guess the man would be fine in the card games. He still forced himself to try to relax.
“He’s also my bodyguard. He doesn’t like the idea of me going somewhere so close to all the rabble when they’re that excitable.”
Apparently satisfied, Beren turned his full attention to the fireplace, thinking aloud. “There’s no way the dandies will let you into the game without some incentive. And your pockets aren’t that deep. There’s a gala coming up at Lord Vovlan’s summer manor in about three days, but we’re going to need a plan. For now, Mother and Father are in Ringsted, so you’re welcome to stay. But do me a favor and keep the goon in your sights. I don’t want him gnawing on the furniture.”
“He’ll behave. He’ll be doing whatever I tell him to. I have a feeling I’ll need a few things before then, and I’m not going to be fetching things myself, now, am I?” Darrin moved backward just slightly and frowned. “Where’s your sister, by the way? I thought she’d be down to see who came knocking by now.”
“You came at midnight, you idiot. I’m not waking Katriona for that. She’d eat us both for lunch.”
“Pfft,” Darrin said dismissively. “This is early for her. She talks about staying up until dawn at parties every time I see her.”
“Went to bed with one of her ‘headaches’ earlier. I think she wanted to avoid the Cavell social to punish the lordling for snubbing her at the social last night. I have no interest in being included in her stormy mood.”
Darrin winced. “Ah. I’ll see her in the morning, then. Probably late morning to early afternoon?”
“Whenever the mood strikes her to grace us with her presence. I have a meeting early since Father’s gone, so I’ll be at breakfast early.” Beren waved his hand dismissively. “You’re welcome to eat whenever. For now, I have a meeting. Early. I need sleep. Benson will show you your room. It’s on the second floor, though.”
Darrin grinned. “Good night, brother. And thank you.”
Fisk almost missed his cue to wheel his new ally backward out of the room, but once they were moving it was easy enough to follow the servant. They stopped at the bottom of the steps, but only long enough for Fisk to get a good grip on the chair and lift it and Darrin both up. The young lord made a noise of surprise, but if Darrin was going to use the chair as an excuse to have a blacksmith around then Fisk had better be able to back that up.
He didn’t say anything until they were safely in the guest room, which included an almost closet-like space for the guest lord’s valet. Fisk glanced at it fatalistically. He’d have to get used to accommodations like that, he supposed. At least it was a clean, actual bed indoors instead of the bedroll or possibly lice ridden bed of inns that he’d become accustomed to lately.
As soon as the door closed, Darrin took control of his own chair and wheeled himself further into the room. Almost immediately he set about readying himself for bed with sharp, practiced movements.
“Do you need my assistance, my lord?” Fisk asked dryly.
The look Darrin shot his way was eloquent and went a long way towards restoring Fisk’s good humor. It reassured him that Darrin wouldn’t be treating him like a servant all the time.
“You did well,” Darrin stated after a moment. “That’s most of what you’ll be doing when we’re out in society. Just standing behind my chair quietly to assist with whatever I need. If nothing else it’ll get you a chance to eavesdrop on conversations between the rich and powerful. I can’t get many other servants if you’re going to be… following your own interests, so I likely will keep you busy on other tasks for a while.”
Fisk gave him a look of his own. “Try to remember I’m not actually your servant.”
Darrin scoffed. “You are. Our relationship is simply a little different than is typical.”
Fisk scowled until Darrin let out a puff of laughter. “Do not worry about it. Everything takes time, but we will be working towards… your goals… soon enough.” Darrin paused and nodded toward the door. “Until we have a place in my name, assume that someone is always listening.”
That made enough sense that Fisk merely nodded and set about readying himself for bed. It had been a long day, and he needed all the rest he could get.