Chapter XXVIII—A Kill Quest?

Rōkura sighed as she found her way back downstairs.

Hans, Shinjiro and Lord Asher Boone had got off to some place here on the ground floor. Rōkura was certain she could find them in the dining room when the time came. If she searched long enough. Like she would find the undercroft as well.

Eventually…

She slowed her pace to glance about and take in the mansion. She had never before been in such a large—

Wait. I don’t know if that’s even true.

There had been that dream she had—her on a battlefield. But there was no way she was some kind of military leader. Was there? Rōkura still hadn’t told Hans about the dream.

For one, he would probably lie to her, and if he didn’t, he would certainly laugh he she went to him asking if she were a military commander and it turned out to simply be a dumb dream.

That would be so embarrassing.

Right now, she had very few memories from her past. Who was she? And what if she never fully understood who she was—where she came from?

She sighed, moving on as her eyes rover about the expensive furniture and tapestries. The vases and pottery were shiny. There was nothing for it but to explore the house until she found the undercroft.

Rōkura came to a small table at the end of the hall where a miniature porcelain statue stood. The woman depicted was naked, her elbows tucked close to her body with her pal exposed invitingly.

She touched the arm, putting her fingers around the delicate glassware hand. It was cold and smooth to the touché.

“Lord Asher—“

“GAH!” screamed Rōkura!

She turned and found Withersbee standing before her, a white apron tied to his waist. He looked at her like she had said something stupid or embarrassing. “As I was saying—a statue Lord Asher obtained during his time in another land.” He paused, his eyes darting to the little parceling hand between Rōkura’s fingers. “Given to him by a kind, in fact.”

He took the hand from her fingers with an annoyed expression.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “You scared me and it just—“

“It would behoove you, Miss, to refrain from touching things while here in this house..”

She nodded vehemently, worried about the statue. Was it valuable?

Withersbee pocketed the tiny porcelain hand. This oni girl had no idea of the incredible value of the statue. If Lord Asher found out about this, he would be furious. Luckily Withersbee could fix it with a magical application and his lordship would never find out.

“Come with me, young lady.”

Withersbee took her into the kitchens and she mumbled about other servants n the house, but Withersbee either didn’t hear her, or he ignored Rōkura.

The mustached man pushed through a door that, oddly, swung back and almost hit Rōkura in the face, but fortunately she was fast, and put her palm out. She shunted the door out of her way.

The kitchens were large, dark and yet beams of sunlight came in through the high windows and illuminated the dust motes. Everywhere herbs and dried foods hung from suspended racks.

The kitchen  was warm and several cook stoves were fired up.  Withersbee glanced toward the boiling pots and other dishes where he had sautéing foods. He stirred one of them.

The fragrances of herbs and meat made Rōkura’s mouth water. Hopefully this pest business would be quick. She was hungry.

Stepping across the black and white checkered floors, Withersbee flicked his eyes over to Rōkura and then jerked his head. “Here.”

He took her to a deep-set pantry, and like the walls and the ovens, the walls here were nothing more than red-clay bricks, old and stained. There was a heavy door at the end. Withersbee pulled some keys free and they jingled in his hand as he unlocked the door.

“This leads into the undercroft,” he said.

Rōkura peered down the dark steps with apprehension. “I can see in the dark pretty well,” she said, hesitating. “But I can’t even see down into that murky void.

Cold stake air wafted up toward them.

“The tunnels lead out of the mansion in several directions. You won’t be trapped.”

“Well there’s your pest problem right there.”

Withersbee smiled like a parent enduring the clearly obvious. Then he gestured for her to go down.

“Without light?”

He turned, grabbed a torch enounced on the wall. “There’s a flint and a dagger there. Go down when you’re ready.”

Leaving her there, he turned to the left and disappeared, evidentially going back to his cooking.

Rōkura glanced down at the torch in her hand and sighed. She took up the knife and flint and in no time, struck sparks into the tinder, igniting her light source.

Slowly, she went down the stone steps. The cold air made her flesh prickle, but the brown cloak she had bought the other day provided some amount of warmth.

Her steps echoed and the space opened up before her.

“Okay,” she said. “Pests. Pests… Where are you?”

She lifted the torch high above her head, it’s warmth a comfort to her, and its light. There were thick columns of red bricks, much like the ones used in the kitchen above.

There were old moldering crates and sacks. It seemed this undercroft area had been used as a cool dry place to store food at some point. There were heaps of garbage everywhere—old rotted bits of fruit shells and broken wood.

It was and musty and Rōkura wrinkled her nose to the smell as she searched for signs of “pests.” The bricks slabs underneath her feet were cold. “Brrr!” she said.

Maybe they were further in.

She glanced back, her torch hissing in the air as she turned. She didn’t feel safe venturing further in this dark cavern without keeping well aware of the exit—even if what Withersbee said was true about there being more exists.

Maybe he was trying to murder her and there really weren’t exits out of here. That would be consistent with my rotten luck.

She sighed, walking on and glanced to the left and right.

Nothing.

Rōkura shrugged with exasperation and decided ten more minutes of this and she would go back up and inform Withersbee that there were in fact, no pests to be taken care of.

Just as she made the decision, she heard a scurrying ahead. She lifted her torch and reached for her wakizashi short sword, though she didn’t bare the steal.

As Rōkura ventured forth, something moved to her left, and it was close.

She lurched and as the stones and the musty crates were revealed with orange-yellow light, she found nothing.

Another noise scurried from behind and something struck her in the back. She jumped forward as her heart climbed inside her chest. Turning around, the torch hissed and guttered, but she saw nothing.

“Where are you?!”

She squinted, trying to see better. It was so dark and oppressive down here that she had trouble seeing in the dark, even with her Celestial Eyes. They allowed Rōkura to see better in the dark, but not through it like a cat or a nocturnal predator. What’s more her Celestial Eyes actually made her vision worse.

Bad enough to need glasses.

Internally she snorted. Never happening.

Moving her arm back and forth to pain the area in light, she searched for the thing that hit her and ground her teeth.

She unsheathed her katana and lurched forward, swinging in before her. “Come out, you little monsters!”

A shiver ran up her spine and for a moment, she thought something was behind her. Like before, it had struck her and then disappeared.

Turning, she wanted to get the drop on any of… whatever they were—before they had a chance to sneak up on her.

With her Regeneration and her Overpowered abilities, she wasn’t afraid, afraid. But she couldn’t deny groping about through the dark and being struck by an unknown creature was nerve racking!

Rōkura shivered and a little keening squeal came out of her mouth. The oni was very near to bolting for the stairs, but to get back to them, she would have to walk through the dark for forty or fifty paces, still.

While Rōkura considered chickening out, Adrian Withersbee was just pulling out a roast partridge from the oven. Once it cooled somewhat, he would debone it and then put it into the cream sauce that was simmering.

He glanced back toward the pantry, and by extension, the undercroft. Really, it was more of a large cellar, but for some reason Lord Boone always called it an undercroft. Perhaps he used that word because it made his mansion seem more grand than it was.

Oh, it was grand already. Withersbee rolled his eyes. Lord Boone was an… acentric individual to say the least. Well, that girl is taking a mighty long time. I wonder if…

No.

Withersbee set to work on another dish.

“I thought lunch was to be served?” said Asher as he glanced at the ticking grandfather clock between the windows. The curtains were mostly drawn and a lovely light was pouring into the dining room.

“I have no issues waiting,” Hans said. “Rōkura on the other hand…”

“Afraid she will become moody, Hans Bellefeuille?”

The small man with sea-blue eyes chortled. “Surprisingly, she takes it quite well, but because of her abilities, her body needs a lot of food.” Then as an afterthought he added, “She has been looking a little thin lately.”

Hans was rather concerned if truth be told.

It was rather adorable watching Hans Bellefeuille care for someone. “You’ve grown soft, old friend.  I remember when you could cut the last coin from an individual with all his hopes riding upon it, only to snatch it away.”

“Hmph,” Hans sniffed, scratching at the smooth surface of the table as he gave that some thought with a wry smile. “I was far worse than that.”

Asher nodded, his face a mask of amusement. Like Hans, his hair was golden, but where Hans kept his short, Asher’s was incredibly long and flamboyant.

Withersbee came into the dining chamber with several dishes on a silver tray.

“Ah, about time, Withersbee!” said Asher as he rubbed his hands together. As he set the food down, Asher frowned. “A light lunch today?”

“Just an appetizer, my lord.”

“That’s right.”

Withersbee lifted an eyebrow.

“How is Rōkura?” asked Hans. I thought I saw you two together.

“She is in the cellar, Lord Bellefeuille.”

“Still?” he laughed lightly. “Quite the pest problem, you have.”

“All in all,” said Withersbee, “it’s not that bad. And they leave well enough alone down there when undisturbed.”

“Pray tell what are ‘they’?”

He shrugged. “Just some Kurri Warriors.”

“Gah!” Hans recoiled as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Those things give the the shivers.”

Asher laughed. “She will be fine.” He took a sip of his wine and reached for the appetizers.