''... And this, Sir?''

The servant retracted the swan neck of the unlabelled bottle, and set it into a chalice of ice with a pleasant crystalline crunch. With a dramatic flourish, he slapped the embroidered serving towel over his arm and gave a courteous, sweeping bow as his master swirled the translucent liquid around the inside of his glass, leaned back indulgently, and took a generous swallow. The second came more luxuriously; he ran his tongue across his palate, savoring the wine's cuvée. And with the open-mouthed stemware lifted daintily under his nose -- its delicate flute pinched between thumb and forefinger -- he looked every bit the professional sommelier.

''It's crisp, fresh.'' He gave the crystal a strategic rotation, nursing his poison of the evening with one hand, and gesturing expressively with the other. ''With a strong acidic finish. This one is younger than the others.'' Already, he had divined the wine's secrets, and pinned down its peculiarities. But a sly, triumphant smile had betrayed him. The sommeliers would speak eloquently of their aperitifs, but they were not ones to evince emotion.

Shiranui commended the passion in their simplicity. It was something to be admired, even coveted, and yet he had no interest in emulating their stoicism as he eyed the maelstrom contained in the tiny universe of his wine glass with a cool, inhuman intensity. ''The vintage was good to us that year.''

His scarlet eyes alighted on the steward. ''The vintage is good to us every year,'' he corrected with an artful tilt of his head, one leg crossed over the other, his free arm now draped lazily behind the luxuriant banquet chair. He looked the part of a snake, meticulously unwinding inch by decadent inch, tongue darting across his upper lip as if to sample the man's discomfort with an arrogant uptilt of his mouth. And from the porch outside the Omikami estate, his retort came as airily as the breeze rustling the chaff from the wheat. ''The gods themselves dare not imperil our harvests for a reason. This wine, it is a feast for the senses our competitors could never replicate. They are fortunate to satisfy a peasant's palate.''

At this, the servant nodded, his head dipped humbly still. Shiranui fixated him for a moment, and then waved his hand in a dismissive, theatric arch, turning his gaze to the cleared artery that split his fields into an accessible pathway. ''This suits me for today. Go.''

Kiba was not, traditionally, known to take up odd jobs. His job, after all, was a given, a regular duty he could take up at any time. Sometimes, however, one had to accept a duty, especially when a prize was on the line. Kiba had a tendency to frequent a stone-farm, a quarry for lack of better name, and from it pick up occasional chunks of stone with which to work his sculptory magics. This time, a block of marble was his prize... but the men were short staffed, and apparently had a very important order to fill. 

Far be it, Kiba decided, for him to neglect the opportunity for a free hobby-addition, and so he accepted the job after a brief plea. The duty was simply to deliver a rather large stone wheel to a specific destination, and one Kiba was vaguely aware of at that - those large wheat-fields he passed semi-regularly, in the first Rukon District. So with a nod, Kiba had placed hands on the wheel, and began rolling it - to the consternation of the forman - toward it's destination further in the First. 

Something like an hour later, with a steady pace built up, along with a small sheen of sweat, Kiba's hands moved rapidly to keep the wheel both moving forward and steady, the giant thing taller than he as he guided it semi-rapidly along the paths in the fields of wheat. Occasionally he peered around the thing, and before long the building identified to him by a few passers-by as the plantation home had begun to come into view. Kiba's dusty-tan robes had been stripped of their top not too long ago, the fabric simply bundled and draped over a shoulder, and without his Zanpakuto, Kiba quite naturally appeared as though a simple citizen, nothing like a man belonging to a military organization doing a job quite unbefitting his actual duties. 

When the building came within a hundred and a half yards, Kiba attempted to make himself known by calling out, so as to be met at the porch. "Heyoo! Anybody around!?!" Came the cry, not exactly the most brilliant entrance - from his angle, the gold-topped man sipping wine was all but invisible - but Kiba had no cause for making impressions - his job didn't extend to looking good, only to getting the job done. It wouldn't be long, at this rate, to get the great stone wheel up to the dirt before the porch, and from there, little but pressure on the sides of the wheel to make the rolling stop. Not quite refined, but effective, certainly.

"Lookin for the fella in charge!" Kiba declared with a grin once the wheel had come to a stop. "I've got a delivery!"

With the steward gone, Shiranui sat in silent vigil. The mellow, golden notes of wheat — stretching, in spite of his superior vantage point, as far as the eye could see — conspired to create the convincing illusion of a sun about to set as he lounged back indolently and angled his head, draining the rest of the wine from the glass' generous curves. And for a moment, he lounged there, arrogantly occupying far too much space because he could.

Blooming in the center of a rural panorama, the establishment rose from a polished limestone base. It became more intricate as one's gaze travelled upward, from the timeless, earthy gradations of grey and turbid browns, vaulted windows, and cathedral ceilings, to the steeple lancing through the heart of the sun, and bathing the pastoral vista in its golden light. Crowned in spires, with facades meticulously sculpted in rich dimensions of archaic stonework, the estate bore no trimmings of a winery and instead looked the part of a religious venue, belying its immense cellar and a host of vintners working round-the-clock to meet his specifications.

It was good to be king, to lord one's self over the peasants that made ends meet on account of his charity. Dressed in loose-fitting vestments, his wrists wrought with gold, Shiranui delighted in the toil of his lessers, and reaped the fruits of their labor with relish.

But for all his propriety, forethought, and excessive planning, he could not consider every factor — along came Kiba, yelling at the top of his lungs, a millstone trundling for what was decidedly not a mill. Trust those chirpy proletarians to forgo directions utterly!

He rose from his seat and regarded the labourer from his pedestal. The man had to be strong, certainly, if he could roll the wheel down the road off his own power, but Shiranui was not impressed, and much less amused as he strolled down a series of steps, his glass left to the tabletop. ''You've wandered into the wrong sector. This is a private establishment.'' With a serpentine glance, he appraised the grind stone, and then Kiba. One hand planted itself at the hip in wordless defiance to all that the man stood for. ''Not to mention a distillery.'' 

Kiba had pulled the great stone to a halt with a puff of breath, and had used his stripped cloth-top briefly as a mop against his forehead as the slightly-taller gold-topped male tread from his roost. Replacing his jacket-like top, Kiba could only provide his addressee an oafish smile, and then a shrug at the mention of the place being a distillery. "That'll need taking up with the guy in charge; I'm here for a one-day gig." The admission came easily, not an accusation or an excuse - simply the truth. The Taicho chuckled slightly as he gave the stone wheel a slight patting, tempted to try and lean against it but for a lesson learned on the walk regarding leaning on wheels.

"Won't mind taking it where it belongs, but this was where I was told to deliver." It was an old tactic he abused - the ancient art of 'covering one's own ass' - and there were those who said one could not become a Taicho without mastering this art. Naturally, Kiba would have made every effort to prove those individuals wrong, but he was currently not in any such place to do so. Instead he allowed his grin to spread as he looked again over the man in gold-and-fineries, who veritably swam in his cloth. It was with pure honesty Kiba told himself he did not make much of the man of wealth, but then, he could also freely admit that this was due large in part to a severe lack of his own private wealth. Briefly, perhaps tellingly, his brilliant green eyes slid again over the sweeping mansion, and for a moment, a simple thought occurred - so there were those out of the Gotei with such establishments!

It was effortless for Kiba's vision to re-train to the gilded male - he had hardly been really aware he'd looked away - and his grin, if it had faltered, was back with a vengeance. "What'cha say, show me where you want it?"

Chuckling stiffly at the desecration of the factory's image, Shiranui took the labourer's uncouth mannerisms in stride; he was accustomed to the unsightly union of inelegant and debonair from the employees that dealt with the land, but far be it for him to let slide the incompetence of Kiba's would-be superiors when he had explicitly ordered the grind stone to be brought to the mill whose copy had broken down. ''Shame.'' His voice had mastered the pleasantry without betraying the lack of leverage the one-off nature of the job left him. ''Not every day a millstone is delivered by a single man. Very well, then.''

Always framing a stream of lies (as if he had built his entire career around untruths), the acclaim came easily. But there was no natural rapport between them -- with very little to gain from Kiba beyond time, Shiranui did not seek to build a foundation of male camaraderie, more so as he caught the mongrel sizing up his property. ''Though I have no obligation to go to such lengths, no doubt you will lose your way if I do not steer you from my riches.'' He wore his grace well; it did not serve to emasculate him as he placed a hand upon the wheel, and rotated the massive stone westward as easily as Kiba would've. ''Come with.''

It was simply truth to consider that Kiba's smiles had been a facade at best to this point - politeness for the sake of itself, put simply. Between the quip regarding his own wealth and the effortless turning of the wheel, however, something genuine struck within Kiba, and his teeth now glimpsed beyond his lips. "What can I say," Kiba began with a slight chuckle, an even shove on the stone setting the wheel to roll after Shiranui at a slow clip, "I tend toward nice things."

'Walking' the wheel had become a simple enough task over the course of the afternoon, to the point where Kiba had become able to control it's direction and momentum with only one hand. This he did from the left side of the wheel, flush with it's back end, his right hand catching purchase and pushing 'upward' to continue the stone's roll as he trailed behind the man in gold. The chore was simple to the point where his eyes could wander as he walked, and as always, Kiba found himself nearly sidetracked by the view surrounding him.

The combination of sun-and-wheat, Kiba discovered, had a way of playing with his vision - specifically of filling it with amber and gold. Above the hues of the earth but not quite in rival with the sun, they were the sorts of colors that, when in a pensive enough mood, could cause Kiba to wonder in terms of emulation. While gifted in wood-and-stone work, and in his mind word-smithing, Kiba was all but dead to the art of painting, and mixing dyes was as foreign to him a concept as astronomy. The Taicho wondered, briefly, if there was any awe left in the sights for the man before him, if constant exposure didn't leave him utterly immune to the charms any longer. This, of course, lead down a wandering path of other small wonders, and before long, Kiba found himself bored with the silence.

"Can't say I've seen so nice a home in about as long as I can remember. Downright impressive, really! The whole thing come out of wheat, did it?" An honest question, really, and one that nearly tempted the Taicho to look into purchasing a shovel; how hard, after all, could it be? Plant some seeds, add water, and money happened, or so he saw it - not as exciting as thumping heads the night through, but apparently it paid out well enough he could probably get over that!

"Shiranui-san? I'm surprised to see you out for a walk; I was informed you'd be overseeing your fields until the evening." Tadao sauntered into view from a side path that passed through the wheat fields, raising a hand briefly in greeting to his brother. He paused momentarily, however,  brows raised in mild surprise and disdain as his gaze lighted on Kiba. "Ah. And I see you have...company," stated the younger Ayakashi with a slight sneer, looking the scruffy Taichou up and down before returning his attention to Shiranui. "Might I ask what this...commoner...is doing in your company?" 

His eyes had turned to face the stranger in his midst as he had drawn abreast, keeping pace with the massive wheel that Kiba rolled unhurriedly. But his look, askance and serpentine, had been swift -- why wouldn't his lessers, drudges who live where he would not deign wipe his boots, covet such a bastion of wealth? ''The winery is the Omikami family's claim to fame. They owe their riches to the vineyards up North.'' Even Shiranui had suppressed a small giggle as he had passed the establishment's hallowed veneer for the first time, as though he expected to be struck down the moment he stepped foot in any place of worship. ''I would renovate, but the decor suits my wife.'' He lifted his chin, and sliced his hand across the air like dispossessed royalty. ''You don't strip the woman you love of her individuality.''

There came an intersection, and Shiranui stopped. His hand transitioned smoothly into a belaying gesture as the pair came across Tadao, and he eliminated the slack from his posture. ''This man is here on business, Tadao. I am escorting him to the disabled mill.'' His red eyes flashed, not forgiving. For all his propriety, Shiranui had yet to pardon his brother for the damage he had wrought four-hundred years ago. ''Radical circumstances warrant radical solutions. It is on the way to the estate, so this is a trifle detour.''

"Ah, wine." Kiba murmured with a knowing nod - Kiba knew a thing or two of the liquid's popularity. Or, to be more precise, he knew it itself was alcoholic, and people loved alcohol; to say he knew the likes of whom sampled wine at length was at the least a mistruth.

The answer brought other questions to Kiba's mind - what was a winery doing so far from any grapes, for instance - and perhaps also a quip concerning stripping women for the sake of breaking ice, but these were halted as easily as the turning wheel as the blonde Kiba trailed held up a hand, to pause and give a new figure some attention. Kiba, naturally, caught the sneer from this newcomer, and for a brief moment, he bristled at being labeled 'commoner', not for offense, but because he knew he was being spoken down to. This was shortly brought in line by the tone the first blonde used in addressing this second, Tadao. Leaning against his stone, Kiba kept his gaze roughly level as he spoke to address the obvious superior of the duo.

"Hoy, Goldy, Kiba began, only briefly realizing he hadn't got the first male's name but for hearing the second call it out, "I know you said y'can't take your lady's individuality, but this one could use a little less attitude, eh?" A slight slant raised up Kiba's lip at that, returning the sneer to Tadao; perhaps not as 'refined' an insult, but Kiba was playing the role of deliveryman, and thus was not expected to behave with class. Which, he supposed, was all the better - he didn't like letting down higher expectations.

Grimacing slightly in the face of his brother's ire, Tadao replied hesitantly, "I see. Forgive my rudeness, Shiranui-san. I...did not mean to delay you." The younger Ayakashi always felt nervous when the elder got like this; despite his status, his place in the Ayakashi household -- his status as Shiranui's brother by blood -- Tadao felt that his brother might resort to violence, as punishment for the...incident. Clearing his throat with a hurried cough, Tadao continued, "The mill...of course. As you are continuing to the estate afterwards, I shall accompany you; it is my eventual destination, as well."

A brief expression of fury marred Tadao's fine features as he heard Kiba's insult. Quickly recovering himself, he flashed a thin smile towards the Taichou. "A fine trick, for a dog; not only have you been taught to fetch, but you can 'speak', too," Tadao remarked lightly, falling into step beside Shiranui. "Perhaps you can learn to roll over and play dead, next."

As it has been over three months since this thread has been posted in, it is now over.

Rewards:
Shiranui - 4/2 = 2
Kiba - NA due to char. death
Tadao - 2