Shadow Scales
Alternative Universe- Magic and Monsters. Constantly besieged by noxious creatures known only as Wyverns, the former King of Britain, William IV forged a blood pact with the Catalan Dragons in the hopes that beasts would fare better against beasts in battle. As a result the Draconic Branch was formed; a military unit where Dragons and Nobility partner up to shield the remaining populace against any further destruction. Yet, as Ciel Phantomhive, a protégé aristocrat with an embittered heart, rise up through the ranks to clasp onto the reigns of his own collared beast, he comes to realize that the horde of Wyverns might not be the darkest shadow to fall upon the land.
Warnings: Slow Start, Multi-chapter, Violence, Blood, Death, Language.
Chapter I- An introduction.
"Once upon a time, before the existence of dribbling streams or lakes; there lived four, mighty dragons. The first of the dragons had a body decked in bright, yellow scabs and spikes. The second was so lengthy that the ancients believed he could enclose the entirety of the old-world in his lustrous embrace. The third of the creatures had a shimmering underbelly that could only be likened to the iridescent beauty of a polished pearl, whilst the last and most elusive of his kind bore a scaled frame blacker than molten tar and orbs as red as garnets. One day, these beasts broke free from the spume of the ocean waves to glide amongst the clouds, each fold of their wings slicing through the balmy, summer breeze. Turning their attention toward the land, the dragons then noticed clusters of humans gathered together, their grimy palms stretched out toward the heavens in a wordless plea. It had not rained for many months, leaving the earth cracked and barren and the women and children weak with hunger. Taking pity on their brittle forms the dragons decided to help the humans by making their way toward the Sky King, for surely as a heavenly sovereign the King could make the clouds muster to soak the soil and wet the crops. To the dragons' delight, the King agreed to make it rain the day after the first Harvest Moon; but as the days lengthened into weeks the dragons assumed the King forgot about his promise. Desperate to aid the ever-waning populace, the timeworn beings made their way back to the ocean to scoop vast amounts of water into their mouths. Never pondering the consequences of their actions, the dragons circled back toward the lands, spurting sprays of salty water as they went. Feeling the droplets drenching their warm, parched bodies the humans immediately started to rejoice, cheering loud enough as to attract the notice of the Sky King. Furious that the dragons had taken matters upon themselves, the wrathful ruler trapped the dragons underneath the weight of a mountain, preventing the four beings from gliding amongst the tuffs of cloud or cool lather of the waves ever again. Even so, dragons were considered an indomitable species, not easily swayed by the spite of a single monarch. Altering their scaled forms into glistening rivers, the four dragons managed to escape their burdensome entrapment, all while continuing to support the humans they have grown so very fond of. And when the earth was fully moist and the first crops rocketed from their beds, the four rivers continued to surge southward, until they became one with the briny waves of the sea once more…"
The soft lull of the Countess' voice was suspended by the crackling of dried wood, the orange flames lapping at the logs nestled within the fireplace and casting a convivial glow within the room. Beside her there was the faint rustle of fabric before a pale, little finger appeared to rub at the lilac ink depicting the Pearl dragon. The gesture was one the woman came to acquaint with the young thing each time she was made to read this particular tale, along with the awed intake of breath as soon as those dainty digits then settled, almost hesitantly, on top of the opaque horns belonging the Black Dragon. Considering their family's position within the Order of Britain the woman should scarcely be surprised by her dear one's infatuation, he was so like his father, as it were. Smiling adoringly at the messy strands of cobalt tucked underneath her chin, the woman swept her own cerulean pools across the intricate drawings, her view of dragons somewhat disillusioned by one particular lizard's horrendous appetite and uncouth scoffing. Perchance old age and the constant air of battle put a damper on one's metabolism? Nevertheless a polite smile now and then was yet to be the end of a species, particularly one as prehistoric and enduring. The noblewoman was pulled from her chiding thoughts as her perch was disturbed, little fingers now coiling into a single ringlet of her strawberry-blonde locks. "Mother, mother. I am going to meet a real dragon one day!" The countess held the boy's eager gaze, her own hand enveloping his in a habitual gesture. "Oh? I believe you already have. Do you not remember?" At this the boy's nose wrinkled, body swaying to glance down at the book still open within his mother's lap. It was clear he wholly disagreed, after all Vincent's partner lacked those glorious wings and razor-sharp tail; attributes utterly distinctive of Ciel's favourite, mythical beings. Though sixty-seven, gruelling years have passed since the beasts, contracted by former King William IV, to aid Britain in its war against the Wyverns, Rachel herself was still in wonderment of all that their magic could accomplish. If a poised, debutante from the House of Durless could hardly fathom a dragon's metamorphosis into a faux body; then how could a coddled child possibly comply? It was enough to know that they could do it to appease their rider and Monarch and; unlike those two-legged predators whom slithered from the ridges of the West, devastating livestock and rustics as they went, held some compassion for all things living. The child agreeing (or perhaps choosing to just take his doting mother upon her word; she has yet to lie to him, after all) turned back to her kind eyes and quirked lips, his plump cheeks flushed from the heat emitting from the nearby hearth. "Will you read it to me again Mamma, please?" Rachel inclined her head, a laugh resounding like small, copper bells following her son's innocent request. "Oh dearest, let us save some fun for tomorrow as well, shall we?"
As if born with the ability to sense the mood of his Mistress, a mannerly knock echoed off the dark oak not a breath later, the door giving way to reveal the form of the Estate butler. "Do forgive the intrusion, my Lady, but I do believe it long passed the young Master's bed time." The greying retainer pinned the boy with a rigorous look, causing the child to squirm from where he was tucked against his mother's side. Rachel merely closed the book within her grasp, lovely features contorted in mirth. "My, you are as strict as ever, Mr Tanaka." The butler's mouth twitched, cotton-clad fingers folded neatly behind his back. "One needs to be when raising the next Earl of Phantomhive. Young'uns need rest if they are to grow. Yet, I fear if the young Master continues to elude his sheets he might not be able to reach his saddle come his sixteenth year. Dragons are infinitely taller than the ponies housed within the stables, you know." As the wrinkled hues of the butler had yet to leave the form of his charge, he instantly took note of the boy's bristling, small palms floundering to stroke over the lines creasing his nightshirt. "Tch. I'm ready for bed, old man!" Slipping down the plush loveseat Ciel quickly by-passed the simpering servant, halting only to address his mother. "Goodnight, Mother!" The Countess by this time was also on her feet, willowy arms raised to place the red, leather-bound book back upon its shelf. "Pleasant dreams, my Darling." Rachel casted her son a tender smile in turn, said curve of lips faltering only once the library door clicked back into place. The zealous flames had long-since diminished to naught but a few smouldering, slivers of wood; shedding the chamber into shadow. Making her way towards one of the bay windows, the noblewoman found that the heat lingering within the library did little as to ease her sudden disquiet.
The responsibilities of those within the Order were onerous and the hours long, be it those blessed with Knighthood, the Secretarial Officers, Civil Officers and most conspicuously, those who found themselves within the Draconic Branch. The dragons were few and far in between and not all as eager as the Catalan to protect the land they shared with the humans. As such, in order for the blood pact to work, each potential Rider had to undergo a rigorous training programme commencing from the rider's sixteenth birthday. Once the potential candidate had undergone the necessary instruction, he would then be taken to the Cove to be introduced to those untamed but willing. As it were the dragons who chose their Master and initiated the enduring threads of the bond, chances were you might not be granted the title of 'Rider' if the dragon itself found you unworthy. It was no secret that only one of King William's four sons held magical potential potent enough to be granted the honour. Peering out at the desolate, dark grounds below Rachel could not help but hope that her dear Ciel would be spared from such a bleak fate. Though distinguished Dragon riders pronged from the Phantomhive line, she did not want her only child to be sent to the blood-splattered frontlines. She would never deny her young one the opportunity to partake in the programme, make no mistake, but Rachel trusted that Ciel would favour the path of a Knight or even that of a Secretarial brigadier.
Exhaling a solemn breath, the Countess rested a palm against the cool glass she was gazing through, clear cerulean flickering briefly to the black heavens above. Yes, she had faith. Though she had learned to contend with her loving husband's dreadful schedule and the occasional battle wounds marring his form, she would not accept the same of their son. Though the faint creek of the floorboards were not enough as to diminish her tangled thoughts; Rachel was aware of the new presence within the library, the scent of fresh cloves intermingling with the spoor of burnt kindling. Feeling herself unwind as soon as a pair of arms wrapped about her middle, the noblewoman easily gifted the handsome face reflected within her looking glass, an adoring smile. "I thought you would never leave the confines of that study." The man hummed in response, cheek coming to rest against his wife's temple. "If I had my way, I would never have to go in there. Alas, someone has to write up the reports for our assignments and I don't see Dee exchanging Tanaka's sandwich platter for a pen anytime soon. He really has a horrendous appetite." Shifting within his embrace, Rachel perceived the smell of burnt kindle to be more distinct with each inhale, the odour causing her chest to tighten uncomfortably. Chancing a quick look at the hearth, the woman was surprised to find that the dying embers had once again leapt to life, searing with a ferocity that could only be fuelled with those scented, lamp oils the servants used within their quarters. "Vincent, did you replenish the fireplace when you came in here?" Brow slightly crinkled, the strawberry-haired woman was hesitant to admit that she was deeper within her prior thoughts than she initially imagined, but her husband merely shook his head. "I have not. Is something the matter?"
Slipping from the Earl's grip, Rachel altered her gaze from the rising blaze toward the entirety of the chamber, anxious hues finally detecting the trails of smoulder oozing into the library through the vent leading to her husband's study. Rising a clasped fist to her lips, the countess exhaled a set of coughs, whilst Vincent hastily reached for the fire bucket. As soon as the grains of soil filled the hearth, the orange flames lashed out, extending to the Persian carpet stretched beneath their feet. Hissing in alarm, the Head of Phantomhive pulled his wife from the window just as the flare of scorching heat latched onto the seam of the curtains, spreading quickly across the rail. "This is the work of magic, we can't extinguish it." Vincent's narrowed, almond hues darted from his wife to the increasing flames, many thoughts racing through his mindscape. How could magic, especially in such an astounding quantity, have penetrated his shield? The dragon rider inspected the safeguard himself once excused from dinner and nothing seemed amiss. "Rachel we need to get to the door!" Wounding his fingers around her thin wrist, the Earl tugged the petite woman forward, the shrill cries of approaching Wyverns sounding from the beech trees encircling the grounds. Vincent could not be sure if the creatures' attentions were drawn to the manor due to the fire being a beacon, the supposed failure of his shield or if the magical composition of the flames were linked to their presence in some other, sinister way. Twisting the doorknob with renewed urgency, the rider had to raise an arm to screen his eyes from the swell of heat and smoke that engulfed them in a flourish, the door banging into the wall.
Not even the sudden rise in temperature could prepare the young couple for the scene at hand. The entire West Wing of the manor was entirely engulfed in licks of orange and red; tapestries and antique, oil portraits a poor barrier against the blaze. It was almost like the fire was drawing all traces of magic from each corner of Vincent's childhood abode, like an insatiable parasite out for blood. Feeling Rachel's body sag against his own; the Earl glanced down to meet her wide orbs, the blue pools misty with unshed tears. "We can't get to Ciel, Vincent our path is completely impeded by these flames." Hesitating, the Earl brushed his begloved knuckles against her cheek in what he prayed to be a comforting act, own gut twisting into poignant knots. Why. Why did he not sense any traces of magic seeping passed his shield? "Forgive me, my dear." His mouth curled into a resentful smile, before his gaze was pulled toward the opposite end of the corridor where Tanaka had since appeared, desperately batting at the angry inferno. The Earl supposed that with these many Wyverns about, their cries in time with the wicked sizzling of his belongings, the Order could very well be on their way. He and Rachel might not be able to make it to immediate safety, but if Tanaka could get Ciel passed the treeline, they might be able to meet up with Dee. Vincent closed his orbs at the thought of the ill-mannered Lizard, the dragon no doubt in a tirade at the anguish he must be sensing from his Master. Shifting, Vincent glanced back at the man who dutifully raised him after Claudia's death, his voice pitifully hoarse as he cried out. "Tanaka! Don't waste your time trying to conquer those flames, they're composed of magic! Get Ciel, get Ciel and meet up with the Order!" Even as those words left the Earl of Phantomhive's lips and his consort's lithe, pale fingers wound their way into the fabric of his dress shirt, Vincent could not help but feel some semblance of sanguinity through all the chaos. If only Ciel could somehow escape undetected and find his way to the dirt road. If only.
Author's Note:
Ah, hello! It's lovely to meet you all. I apologize for any awful layout issues, I had some trouble posting this one! I'm very excited to be writing this story, since I've always been in awe of Dragons and magic; things I think fit well within the Kuroshitsuji setting. I have to add that this story will have a slow build up to the actual Sebastian x Ciel relationship, if only for the convenience of plot /but hopefully/ none of you will mind and stick around for a little bit longer. As the story progresses, I promise you, so will the rating. Lastly, I would also like to add that the story Rachel reads in the beginning of this chapter is called: The Four Dragons; a Chinese Folktale on the forming of the four, main rivers in China. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send a message my way. Until next chapter.
Thank you for reading!
Corvus Nevermore.