Meeting - XIII

“Now then,” I say seriously. “Where is Okuri?”

No one replies. I start with one next to me, piercing him with an angered look. An older man, with something approaching a midhandled beard.

“I’d suggest you start talking, before I make you.”

The man’s eyes are filled with fear, as his eyebrows raise and draw together. “I-I don’t know!”

I don’t take that for an answer. I draw closer. The man crawls backwards before finding himself pressed against a wall, with me staring him down. I keep at this for some time, simply letting the silence speak for itself, and weigh upon the man in question.

“Alright, alright! I might know a thing or three, but I’m telling you, I-I don’t know how much it’ll help.”

“Start talking.”

His expression is still anxious. “We saw some masked folk take Okuri. Said they’d help him somewhere safe and all.”

“Taken by who?”

“I don’t know! They never made no mention of that part. Just that they’d be back to pay what we were owed when the time’s right.”

I keep my look fixed a little while longer.

“That’s it, promise!” the man says, stuttering as he does.

“You sure?”

“I peed the bed at age twelve, and blamed my brother. But that’s really all!”

“Alright, that’ll do.”

I pace backwards, considering my options. Is it possible that Okuri was taken? If so, for what reason? It’s hard to believe that he was kidnapped out of the blue. And much less, that these kidnappers would promise to pay the guards at hand.

The logical explanation, it seems to me, is that he might have been transported for his own protection.

Perhaps a safehouse Okuri has somewhere around the city. But an inexplicable feeling tugs at my being. A strange disagreement, not quite able to be put into words, but present all the same.

I take the moment to approach another one of the hired mercenaries. A young Ineo woman, with a surprisingly calm expression.

“Need something?” She looks at me straight, without so much as a flinch.

“I wanted to ask if you knew, or might have seen where Okuri went.”

“Same as the guy earlier. There was a big fuss outside the establishment. He was being, well, hauled away by some men in black.”

“Did no one try to stop them?”

“We did. One of my friends stepped on in, drew his sword and all.”

“Then?”

“Then Okuri called out, said not to intervene. When that happened, the men in black handed us a sum of money, and told us not to come looking.”

I consider that answer for a few moments. “Thank you.”

“Nah,” she stops, inhaling for a while. “It’s you I should thank. About what happened earlier, I mean. Seizing them by their necks, holding a knife to their throats, that was wrong.”

“That much we can agree on.”

She turns her head, looking to a wounded man nearby. “That was my friend’s life you helped protect. You hit the bastard holding him with a nice rock to the nose.” Not long after, the girl nods. “I don’t know quite where I’m going with this, but I hope you get what you want. Whatever it may be.”

A pleasant feeling tugs at my heart, and a slight smile forms on my face. “A world where young men and women like you strive for a better tomorrow. Yes. I believe I would want that very much.”

With those parting words, I turn on my heel and approach several others.

The reception is mixed, to say the least. A good portion are simply unable to speak, whether from fear or injury. The ones who are willing, tend to be those thankful. Or at the very least, those unwilling to fight me anymore.

That said, a general consensus seems to be clear. Okuri was moved. Taken, who knows where.

Without a solid lead by word alone, I decide to investigate further. The first thing I consider is Okuri’s room. It was the last place I saw him, and it’s the place I came with the intent of visiting.

The double door to Okuri’s room is wide-open. It’s a stark contrast to how I last saw it. Empty of its expensive-looking table, and equally shiny decor. I enter the room and look about.

It’s a rather dark space, lit only by the light from a window, and the lanterns from the hall.

I pause, taking in my surroundings. Then, let my gaze fall on the floor, searching for the smaller details.

It’s strange. This place is too empty.

There’s no sign of debris. Pieces of furniture, blown out by the explosion of steam. Before, there were tables, desks, and even objects along the walls. A steam pipe doesn’t exactly set fire. With a trap like that, there’s bound to be something left over of what was destroyed.

This means they must have been taken out of the room beforehand.

Strange. The only reason I can consider as to why, would be to protect them from being damaged by the steam trap.

But if Okuri was kidnapped, how was it possible that he could arrange such a thing? Unless he knew they were coming, and planned to have them taken out in advance.

Several questions start to bite at me. I shoot my head around, and see a strange object embedded into the stone wall. It appears to be a short, metal spike of some sort. Usually used to reinforce a fence, or timber.

Peculiar. It must have been rammed there with an incredible amount of force. I scan the room, only for one of the steam pipes to catch my eye.

As I approach it, it becomes obvious that it was tampered with. There’s a suspiciously spike-shaped hole driven through one of its joints. Which must have caused it to build up pressure, due to the flow of steam being stopped.

This must have been linked to the trap that was set off. A simple one at that. Given that it activated upon me opening the door…

So in other words, a trip-wire. A strong one, that when pulled, yanked the spike out, and caused steam to overflow.

Simple, but effective, seeing what it did.

But I’m sure there wasn’t a thread along the outside of the door. No. I was quite careful with anything of the sort. Meaning that it must have been placed inside of the room. However, that leaves one question.

If it was placed inside of the room, how did they manage to leave without activating it?

I take one look at the door, and come to a rather expedient conclusion.

The answer is: They didn’t.

I approach the window of the room, and open it. A wave of cool air comes in, as does the presence of something obvious. A platform, sitting beneath the window. And strands of black fur, clinging to it still.

I believe it’s all very clear to me now.

Okuri had his furniture pre-emptively transported. Then, set up a steam trap, before leaving from the window. Upon getting to the ground from his room, he was then ‘kidnapped’, and taken elsewhere.

But, there’s something I don’t quite get. Why claim to be kidnapped at all? Or at the very least, what benefit would he derive, from convincing others this is the case?

The obvious conclusion would be to give a false trail. A fake impression of where he might be.

However, that only tells me where he won’t be, rather than where he is. I pick up the strand of hair, and smell it. The distinctive scent of a wolf beastkin comes at once. Now that I have a profile of Okuri, I should be able to use it to track where he went.

I descend from platform to platform, following the route I think he likely took. Making sure to avoid the guards patrolling outside.

After some time, I reach the ground, and come across a cluster of hair.

Alongside it are footprints, etched in the mud and dirt. Okuri’s and a few other peoples.

It’s not far from the entrance, so it’s possible the kidnapping was staged here. It would be easy to see what was happening from this angle, and give a false impression.

I keep following the trail. It leads from the House of Okuri, before curving into an alley. For a moment, I consider where it might end, and where the man could have truly gone. That consideration disappears, as the path seems to bend back towards the House of Okuri.

A dim, quiet alley sits before me, connecting to the establishment. I assume it’s a back entrance of sorts. For the more private customers. On further reflection, that makes sense, given what I know about the White Hands.

I don’t suppose those gathering for such organisations would want to be seen, or heard in public.

I approach the large, metal door, being quiet as I do so. There’s no one around, but I can’t shake this vague feeling of unease, as if something might just snap from the shadows.

I try the door handle. It doesn’t budge. I, in turn, slam straight into it. The door rips off its hinges, hanging with a creak.

Inside is a red, carpeted hallway. Lit by turtle-shaped candles hanging on the walls. The air is warm, smelling of wax and spices. Closed doors line each side, with signs labelling them.

“Okuri,” I call out, making myself known. “Reveal yourself. There’s no point hiding.”

I wait standing, hoping for any form of reply. There isn’t one, of course.

I briefly consider that Okuri truly might be elsewhere. Lowering myself to the ground, I check for any traces of the man. Sure enough, there is more fur, matching his very scent.

It’s an incredibly amateur mistake. Anyone who spent their time in the company of beastkin would know better than to offer such hints. But then again, it’s possible Okuri never had someone teach him that.

I trace the shed fur, advancing down the hallway. It ends near the hallway’s last two rooms, alongside a door at the end. I try the door at the end first. It opens onto a staircase leading upward.

I’m assuming it’s connected to the establishment. A good way to move guards, in case something horrible happens.

I move backwards and try the door on my left. Nothing. I try the one on the right.

As expected, Okuri is there. Sitting on an expensive-looking sofa, while his two guards stand by him. With his arm around the furniture, and his legs crossed, he gives an impression of being calm under pressure. Like there’s nothing to worry about whatsoever.

“Hello, Gamoun.”