The Red King
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities. Storyline based on "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare.
Author's Note: This is a medieval fantasy AU using the characters from Kuroshitsuji. The story is based on Shakespeare's "Macbeth" and the rest of the plot details are original concepts. Basic characterization and canon details from Kuro will be used in this story, though for the most part this is AU. Canon and character details will be tweaked and changed and will not strictly adhere to any version of Kuro.
Warning: This chapter contains major character deaths. This might be a theme, so get ready.
Chapter 1: The King of Death
White mist billowed over the sloping green field, the grassy hills barely visible under the fog. A few puffs of smoke from Lau's pipe gradually joined the thick white. His covered carriage remained still along the side of the road, the horses snorted and stamped their forelegs a little in growing boredom. He leaned back against the cushion in the driver's seat, feeling Ran Mao curl up further against his blue robes.
Save for the horses' snorting and a gentle breeze all was quiet around them; quiet for any normal human ear. Lau took another deep draw from his pipe and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and focusing his senses. Soon the sounds came to him, quiet at first though growing to a steady roar in his mind.
Shouting, screaming, grunts, oaths, the screeches of the dying; he heard the clanging of metal against metal, explosions cutting through the din.
He slowly opened his eyes and peered through the mist, focusing his senses, then he saw everything.
Such was his gift: the ability to see across the planes, to see the past and the future. Right now the ethereal plane, the meeting point of the realms, was now a battlefield.
"What is happening?" Ran Mao said lazily.
Lau's lips slowly formed into a smile.
"Pure chaos, my dear," he replied. "I see a battlefield, men with…is that scythes? I see glowing green eyes, someone is waving the standard of the skull. It is the reapers…oh my they have gotten into quite a predicament with some angels. I see wings flapping in the air, holy swords meeting scythes of death. I see…"
His senses honed in on one reaper in particular. Out of all the soldiers on this field this one was the only one he saw.
"A soldier…red armor, red hair, pointed teeth, bathing the ground red…absolutely merciless," he said in awe.
Lau paused, focusing on this one laughing hurricane of death. The images flew though his head through his head one after another: the past, the present, then he saw what would come to being. The images slowed, his focus returned to the red reaper. He gradually pulled his senses from the scene, returning to the simple misty hills in front of him and the quiet all around.
"Ahhh Lord Grell," Lau said, his smile widening. "I would like to have a word with him when he is finished."
Lau took one last puff of his pipe and blew another stream of smoke into the mist. He then tapped out his pipe onto the grass and placed it back in his robes, then caressed Ran Mao's shoulder and took the reins.
The thundering of hooves sounded across the landscape, a black cloak billowed in the air behind the rider. A breeze blew the mist apart, revealing trails of blood all around the field. He knew he was growing closer.
Soon he saw men in tattered armor shambling around on both sides of the path, scythes in their hands. They looked up at the rider, then stopped and bowed. He gave a few merry waves then continued on his course.
The spatters of blood soon grew to pools; the mud underneath him was red. He kept his concentration on riding, though peered over the fields to get a better look at what he was riding into. He could see a few miles ahead; the eyes of reapers were renowned for their sharpness. Soon he saw torn bodies scattered across the landscape and a few lingering pools of fire. The rider slowed his steed and took a better look at the carnage around him. Feathers were scattered across the landscape, a few torn angel wings close behind.
Many had fallen with their scythes in their hands; sometimes he would see a severed arm still clutching the pole. More often he saw the white robes spattered in blood and blackened with ash, so many bodies were wrapped in their wings. He put his index finger in the air and counted the number of corpses in front of him. A good number of his kinsmen were gone, though most of these bodies were angels.
He nodded approvingly and continued his course. At last he reached a contingent of familiar faces and familiar armor, namely one reaper in particular. Surprisingly Lord William's black tunic bore a few bloody slices and his normally perfect silver chainmail was blackened in places. One of William's gloved hands repeatedly smoothed out his short, black hair in an attempt to make it look presentable despite the blood spatters and sheen of sweat.
The rider slowed his horse, then swung one leg to the side and leapt in the air, his cloak and long white hair billowing around him. The steed dissipated into a cloud of black mist. He drew his great scythe, his black boots landed on the ground and he faced the generals now bowing before him.
The King of Death, the one only known as the Undertaker, had arrived to inspect the battlefield.
Lord William straightened his posture first and approached the king, his spear-shaped scythe poised in his hand as usual.
"Your Majesty," William said.
The Undertaker nodded, placing the bottom of his scythe's pole in the grass in a pool of blood.
"Aww did I miss all the fun?" he chuckled.
Lord William grimaced in disgust, Undertaker snickered; this was so bloody typical.
William was Death's Steward, the king's second in command. Most of his work was purely ceremonial and bureaucratic. Once he has been a soldier now he was content sitting in his chambers and looking over lists and ledgers. He was the coordinator, the gatekeeper, the immediate overseer of the reapers.
"Am I mistaken or did you get your scythe dirty too," Undertaker said, motioning to William's scythe.
William glanced at his blood-coated scythe.
"We needed every scythe that could be spared," William replied, adjusting another out of place lock of hair and looking back to his king.
The Undertaker walked forward, one hand adjusting the silver crown on his head; ten short, silver points circled his head on a band bearing silver skulls. He walked his scythe across the field, taking in the scene before him.
"Now what exactly happened here?" Undertaker said.
"It was a true ambush, my liege," William sighed, keeping a few respectful steps behind the monarch. "You are no doubt aware of the plague in the next village."
"Quite aware, Lord William," Undertaker replied, the corners of his mouth quirking into a dark smirk.
"We have treated this as a mass casualty incident, at least five reapers have been coming in and out a day. The last shift changed at noon, the survivors reported a wave of angels descended on them, clearly hostile. Our men called for reinforcements, they sent their own, it was a nightmare."
Undertaker nodded, bright green eyes scoping the field.
"How many casualties?" the king asked.
"Seventy-five dead at last count, though the numbers are rising; a hundred twenty wounded, thirty seriously," William answered. "The angelic ranks were obliterated, though reports say a few retreated."
Undertaker continued walking amongst the dead, his steward following close behind. He looked at all the scattered body parts, then passed by the ones cleaning up; seeing respectful bows before they continued with their work.
"Give me your insight, Lord William," Undertaker said. "Angels normally just snipe at us, from time to time small contingencies may draw swords; this is hardly one of those occasions. Do you believe this was a random act, or will we be hearing more from these lovely creatures?"
William looked over the field quietly, adjusting his scythe in his hand.
"We need to maintain increased vigilance," William answered. "It is not unusual for angels to attack our kind at random, however this was a full scale battle. Usually the declaration of an angelic war is done by a herald; to my knowledge there was no angel reading a list of grievances. Perhaps the angels are trying to make this village of suffering souls their territory. Or perhaps…"
He gave the king a sideways glance. Undertaker looked back at him with a smile, he knew exactly what was going to come out of his mouth.
"…They were sending us a message," William continued. "Angels normally consider us tainted, though we have tainted ourselves a little further."
Undertaker gave a shrill chuckle.
"You believe they smell our alliances?" the king replied. "They smell the dirty, dirty demons with which we now associate ourselves?"
"These dealings have been discreet, but they cannot be hidden for long," William answered with a pointed look. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, you know my opinion on this subject. Perhaps we would be better served if you took my advice; especially in light of recent events."
William motioned his scythe toward the scene around them, though kept his eyes locked on Undertaker.
"Is this worth having a few souls accounted for and a bit of gossip? Is this all worth playing into the hands of these fiends?" William sneered.
Undertaker stared at him and grinned.
"You have made yourself quite clear on this matter, Lord William," Undertaker snickered. "But I believe I have as well. No, angels have not attacked us in such a manner before, though who's to say they never would. From what I've heard we have no idea why they came after us. If they were declaring war on us, they would have formally declared it. Perhaps this just demonstrated our need for such filthy alliances." He lifted his scythe and motioned his own blade around the field. "If we have any more unwanted guests, Lord Sebastian and his ilk will make for some valuable friends."
Undertaker took a few steps closer to William and looked straight down into his eyes.
"Tell me, Your Excellency, who would you rather have as angel fodder; a few demonlings or a few of your own blood?"
William narrowed his eyes, his skin flushed a little and his breaths heaving. He wanted to say something, he wanted to bite right into that logic. Instead he held his tongue, fighting would do him no good now.
"I would hope you know my answer to that, Your Majesty," William replied though partially gritted teeth.
Undertaker gave a few more chuckles and turned away from his steward, noting his sideways glare and then walking further down the field. He looked down one area and one particular sight of carnage caught his eye. A heap of torn angel bodies lay in a perfect line connected by a river of blood and scattered feathers.
The king stopped and looked at the scene in near awe. He walked down the line, seeing more bodies and more severed limbs and torsos. He stopped counting after a while, there were just so many of them; all bore the pure alabaster skin of angels. He saw no reapers in this one whole section of the field.
"Well well, what have we here," Undertaker gasped, looking over the wounds.
A sharp blade did this; by the tears in the flesh it was a serrated one as well; one double-sided blade maybe? He knew one particular reaper with a scythe like this. He turned to William, judging by that annoyed look his guess was correct.
"I believe I see the handiwork of Lord Grell," the king said.
"I will recommend him for a high commendation," William replied. "By my estimation he slaughtered a third of their ranks."
"My liege," a voice said form the side.
Undertaker and William looked behind them and saw a young reaper, a lad with brown hair pulled into a ponytail. His simple brown leather armor was also scorched and drenched in blood. He bore cuts across his face, though looked otherwise fine. He genuflected before the king, who signaled him to rise.
"What is your name, boy," Undertaker asked.
"Alexis Bell, Your Majesty," the private replied. "If I may report, I saw Lord Grell in battle."
"Oh? Then tell me the story. I so love stories."
"My king, his advance was a gale. He cut through the angels in front of them like hacking through clay: unrelenting, tireless, fearsome. He saved a whole contingent of men; we would have been slaughtered if he hadn't unleashed his fury. I saw a few angels fly away from him screeching in fear."
"My my, it seems our Second Lieutenant isn't so useless after all," Undertaker replied, glancing at William.
"He indeed proved his worth today," William replied, though Undertaker heard a little huff under that proper tone.
Undertaker smirked and turned back to the young reaper.
"Your report has made me very happy, Sir Alexis," the king said, patting the kid on the head. One long nail lightly traced down the slashes on his face. "Now go get that cleaned up."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Alexis said, bowing and running off.
Undertaker took another look at the field of carnage.
"I do believe Lord Grell is indeed worthy of some accolades," he said. "Where is he now?"
"Last I heard he is scoping the perimeter, Sir Ronald is with him," William answered. "I will need a report from him before the end of the day."
"Let the poor man have his quiet time, with his squire," Undertaker said with a dismissive wave. "He's certainly earned it."
Undertaker walked off, eyeing the rest of the carnage; William following like a good dog though that pout was firmly in place.
They then came across a swath of reaper bodies; the king's eyes then fell on a wide blade, serrated on one side lying amongst the rubble. He stopped and stared at it, feeling William step into place beside him. He knew who bore this scythe.
"I hope this doesn't belong to who I think it does," Undertaker groaned.
William walked a few quick steps to the blade, then looked around the field of bodies. He then made out a shock of singed blond hair, looking down to see a burly form encased in light plate armor and a blue tunic drenched in blood. The back of his neck was torn open, muscles and severed spinal column exposed. Beside him was another reaper; William bent down to clean some of the soot from his face and immediately recognized who this was. His head was bathed in blood, though William could still make out that shaggy brown hair.
"Gods help us," he sighed with a heavy breath.
"Indeed," Undertaker replied.
The tip of the king's boot kicked over the body of the blond man. The reaper's eyes were open and cloudy, blood soaked into his shaggy goatee. The second reaper was revealed to have a holy sword still stuck through his neck. Undertaker and William froze, staring at the two bodies with heavy looks.
"Lord Eric, Sir Alan," Undertaker sighed. "Rest in peace gentlemen."
William let out a hard breath and looked away.
"They were lying on top of each other, together in final death," Undertaker declared. "That is so very sweet."
"It would be a fitting end for them, they were always close," William replied.
Undertaker rolled his eyes and gave a dark chuckle.
"Right, 'close,'" Undertaker said, his fingers making quotes in the air. He leaned into William's face. "Your eyes are open, Lord William, they were partners. Our First Lieutenant fell in love with his squire. I'd call that quite lovely, though what a tragic end."
"They will be buried together," William answered with a nod.
"A wise decision, I shall certainly attend the funeral," Undertaker replied, then looked back at the two lovers. Both lay together in a river of their own blood. "I do say with great regret we are in need of a new First Lieutenant."
He turned back to William, the way the corners of his mouth stiffened indicated he knew the next thing his king was about to say.
"I would like an audience with Lord Grell myself, tell him he has received a promotion," Undertaker said.
The leather had been impeccably tanned and reinforced with every charm imaginable to repel mundane and spirit-imbued blades. Then it was dyed a bright, gorgeous shade of red. Grell laid the chest piece on the grass and examined the surface. There were only a few superficial nicks, though he did see a deeper slash or two: nothing that would have ever broken through. It had served its purpose well, though it would need to be repaired.
Grell collected his armor and rose to a stand, walking over to his travel chest and putting the leather on top. A few stray drops of water dripped from his long red hair. That little dip in the pond invigorated him greatly and helped clean off the few wounds he had. He now wore his light red tunic and stood in the grass in his bare feet.
He looked up to see Ronald standing dutifully by the road, oiling and sharpening his long, straight blade. Ronald then looked back with a slightly annoyed expression.
"You bloody done yet?" he called. "I wanna get home before dark and you had to take a ruddy bath."
"If I didn't I would be less pleasant to deal with for the next several hours," Grell huffed.
"Who said you're pleasant to deal with now?" Ronald called back.
Grell smirked at him.
"You know you shouldn't be rude to your superiors," Grell tsked, waving a scolding finger.
"Yeah, you've always followed your own advice."
Grell snickered and walked over to his travel chest, putting on his stockings then sliding his high red boots with black straps over his feet. And up his calves He wanted to relax a bit more, though Ronald was right; it was better to head back to the reaper realm as soon as possible. Grell looked back at Ronald; seeing a few links loose on his chain shirt.
"You need to fix that armor soon, kid," he said. "Or else you'll be poked in rather unpleasant ways."
Ronald glanced back at him, looking like he was about to make a snarky remark. Then he suddenly dropped his sharpening stone and took the wooden pole of his scythe firmly in hand, looking right down the road. Grell then jumped a few feet over and took the metal pole of his own scythe, holding it at the ready for whatever Ronald was looking at.
The sound of hooves and the squeaking of wooden wheels cut through the silence. Soon a covered brown carriage came into view, two robed occupants soon visible under the covering. Grell relaxed his stance a bit and took a few steps closer. Ronald lowered his blade and took a few steps from the road, looking back at Grell and shrugging.
The carriage gradually slowed in front of them, giving the reapers a clear view of a man and a woman. The man was dressed in blue robes with floral embroidery; the women wore a dress of pink and blue silk. They were clearly humans from the Eastern lands, likely simple travelers.
"Good afternoon, my reaper friends," the man said with a light wave.
Ronald's jaw dropped open and Grell furrowed his thinly groomed brows. Grell took a step beside Ronald. The stranger's eyes slightly widened and a smile came over his face.
"I do believe I am in the presence of Lord Grell Sutcliff, Second Lieutenant of the Kingdom of Death," the man said with a bow.
Grell gave a curious smirk, raising his hand and lightly tapping his chin as he studied the traveler. There was a simple answer to this mystery.
"The hell are you talking about?" Ronald snapped.
Grell patted him on the shoulder.
"It's all right Ronald, we are exposed," he said. "Or rather we are seen, I believe by someone with special eyes; a truly gifted human, or is that a cursed human?"
The man bowed his head. The woman simply leaned back on her elbows and regarded the reapers boredly. Her legs were crossed, one bare leg raised in the air. Grell could see exactly where Ronald's gaze went.
"I suppose I'm the one who's exposed now," Lau replied with a chuckle. "I believe my assumption is correct: am I indeed in the presence of the great Lord Grell, the slaughterer of angels?"
Grell snickered, a dainty hand tossing his hair back.
"So you know of my triumphs, oh dear me I love having an audience," he declared. "Perhaps you caught a glimpse of the strife I caused al those winged rats, the trail of their bodies left across that field; the ground stained beautiful crimson with their oh so pure blood."
"I'm sorry you had to see that mess he made, mate," Ronald added, deadpan.
Grell smacked him upside his blond and black-haired head; Ronald just ignored it.
"I did indeed," Lau said with a nod. "You were quite impressive. No wonder why you will be declared the First Lieutenant."
Grell's smile sunk, Ronald snickered madly.
"I beg your pardon," Grell said.
A few more snickers escaped Sir Ronald, he put one hand on his hip.
"Yeah I know how it is, you tell us some prediction of great fortune but we gotta pay to hear more," Ronald laughed. "Sorry, guy, you're selling to the wrong people."
Grell glared at the man. Ronald was right, too many soothsayers liked to sell their services with a few wild predictions.
"That's not exactly amusing," Grell groaned. "The First Lieutenant is a decent man and I would rather not hear him insulted."
Decent by reaper standards yes, though Grell never found him decent by any other standard. No he was not on the best of terms with Lord Eric, though it was only fitting to defend his honor. Eric wasn't even on the scene by the time Grell left, he was probably still in his castle getting drunk: oblivious to his actual duty.
"My apologies if I have offended," Lau said, bowing his head. "I suppose it would be unwise of me to say you, Lord Grell, will soon be named King of Death."
Grell rolled his eyes and Ronald guffawed.
"I like this fellow," Ronald chuckled, looking at Grell and pointing at Lau. "Ya got any more stories? How about me, what do you see for me; just take a poke."
Lau studied Ronald,
"Let me see here: Sir Ronald Knox, third battalion knight, squire of Lord Grell," Lau declared. He then looked at Ran Mao. "What do you think, dear?"
Ran Mao stared hard at Ronald, her empty gaze almost creepy.
"Your name will be on the mouths of all reapers," the women answered with a clumsy command of the common language.
"See, Ronald, you will be a popular fellow," Grell said, patting Ronald on the back.
"Good answer, miss," Ronald said with a nod.
Grell reached into his purse and tossed a few gold pieces to the carriage, Ran Mao caught them with a snap of her wrist.
"There's your pay, soothsayer, now skitter along," Grell huffed, motioning down the road.
Lau gave him a lingering gaze, then nodded and lightly snapped the reins.
"It has indeed been a pleasure, my lord," he said. "I do hope you have a relaxing rest of your day."
Ran Mao gave both of them another dead-eyed gaze, then she looked back at Lau. Lau snapped the reins to put the horses in a light trot; soon the carriage passed from the reapers and went down the road. Grell and Ronald watched the carriage until it was out of view.
"Now wasn't that queer," Ronald said, scratching his head.
"Bloody imbeciles," Grell growled. "He probably thinks reapers will pay him more. How does he know we won't paint the road with him."
"Because we don't do that to living humans, as you were schooled rather well," Ronald replied.
"Oh shush."
Ronald snickered, Grell just walked away rolling his eyes. He opened the chest, picking up his black leather bracers embossed with white skulls and put them back on.
"Ronnie, get ready to be out of here in less than half an hour," Grell said. "I can't stand lingering in this godsforsaken place."
"Yes sir," Ronald replied. "Or should I say, Your Majesty."
Grell chuckled and fastened the last hook on his bracer.
"Amusing, oh one who will be oh so popular," Grell answered. "Don't let it swell your head."
"Hey I ain't the one who's gonna be king," Ronald replied. "Or is that queen in your case."
"Of course," Grell said mockingly, patting his hair.
Ronald laughed and Grell followed along, shaking his head. What bloody nonsense.
Grell picked up his armor and donned it; it needed to be repaired but it would still last the journey. Grell then picked up his scythe, looking at the stubborn drops of angel blood that would need to be more properly cleaned out.
He stood still for a moment, looking down his tone form in its battle-ready splendor. For a moment he imagined himself in a billowing cape, a crowd of reapers standing under him bowing. For a moment he felt a silver crown on his head.
Grell chuckled despite himself and walked over to Ronald.
"Summon the horses and pack them up, kid," Grell said. "We're leaving."
Ronald sighed hard then reached in his bag and produced two black stones. He threw them in the air with an incantation; two black stallions materialized with a puff of smoke and were standing side-by-side right at the ready.
"About bloody time," Ronald groaned.