Beauty of Every Kind: a Great Ace Attorney AU

Wounds and Wine

September claimed London, and the day was misty then glaringly bright. Barok had elected to go for a walk to get something extra from the bakery for the gathering they were to have at the manor after work: a dinner to celebrate his birthday (although another year without a family was hardly something he felt warranted any celebration), and their friends were all to be present. Klint had made mysterious rumblings related to wine. Barok suspected there was a particularly special vintage he intended to debut for all to taste. That likely being the case, there were certain desserts that could complement such a drink most aptly. And so Barok was wrapped up in pleasant musings as he strolled towards the bakery a few blocks from the office, wishing for the air and exercise rather than using his carriage to traverse the distance.

A faint chill at the base of his spine. Barok hesitated. The sudden feeling of something which loomed burrowed into his senses. He placed his hand on his sabre and turned just in time to see a pipe lashing towards him. He drew quickly and swatted it aside while back-stepping. And then they were upon him. Three men with pipes and hammers.

Barok held his guard and fought back with both might and restraint. He dodged the swings and jabs thrown his way. Left shallow wounds in legs and arms to make them drop their weapons, all with the goal of forcing them to retreat.

He was no stranger to being attacked, although it happened infrequently and quite a long time had passed since he had last faced such an assault. All the same, he kept his composure in the heat of the battle, the tangle of movement and shouts.

He successfully disarmed the men, knocking them aside with his strength and skillful technique. Pipes clattered to the ground. A hammer fell towards his foot and Barok lurched back just in time. But the distraction left him open for a moment.

Something sharp ran across his arm, nicking flesh in a burning line. Barok glanced up at his attacker. In his assailant's hand was a knife. Barok swirled his cape up, throwing the fabric over the man's face and arm. The man stumbled. Barok used this leverage to grasp him by the wrist and twist until his hand curled, fingers releasing the knife, which clattered to the ground.

Someone else grabbed Barok's cape and yanked. He staggered then turned and kicked at them, knocking them against the brick façade of the building beside them. Then Barok whirled and jabbed his blade towards the man who had slashed him. The man had knelt down—clearly attempting to retrieve his knife—and Barok's blade skimmed harmlessly over his head. With a cry, the man fell down, then began to back away. Then he scrambled to his feet and fled.

Once the assailants had vanished, Barok breathed heavily and glanced at the wound on his arm. The fabric was ruined and quickly grew stained, but the cut was minor. Perhaps Iris or Lady Baskerville could mend his sleeve. Barok sheathed his sabre and knelt down, picking up the oddly fine-looking knife. He tucked it away in his pocket then continued to the bakery, ignoring the faint pulse of pain in his shallow wound.

***

When Barok arrived home, everyone was already gathered inside. Their voices splashed towards him from the drawing room, bright and full of laughter. Barok smiled and made his way to them, the doors wide open, the windows breathing in the crisp air. He paused at the threshold to simply take in the sight of everyone delighting in each other's society. Klint, Lady Baskerville, Iris, Genshin, Kazuma, Ryunosuke, Yujin. Susato.

"Oh! It's Lord van Zieks!" Ryunosuke said.

"Welcome home, Uncle Barry!" Iris shouted.

"Excellent! Now we can open this!" Klint declared, and he gestured to a bottle of wine that rested on the table they had set up in the middle of the room. Some other bottles were gathered on its surface as well, along with many chalices.