Ciel woke up in his bed, wondering what the hell had roused him from his sleep before Sebastian could. The house was silent, no light dodged around the curtains to indicate morning, and his bed was as comfortable as money could buy. So why was he awake? In the darkest corner of his room was a cushioned chair, out of place from where it had been a few hours ago. It somehow didn't look quite empty, and with all the things he'd been through, Ciel knew it wasn't.
"Who are you? How did you get in?" he asked the almost invisible figure.
"… I am impressed… that you knew I was here…" a voice whispered, and Ciel was half sure he'd imagined it for its quietness. "… I got in… through the front door… and I am here to serve… the head of the Phantomhive family… which is you, Master Ciel…"
"You haven't answered one of my questions," he pointed out, irritated. Sebastian should have stopped the intruder from setting foot on the property line, much less the bedroom rug. Where was he?
"… no, I haven't…" the figure said, a soft rustling and a stretch of shadow showed that the stranger had stood up, and then bowed deeply. Despite the shadow being a head taller than Sebastian, his head was almost to the floor, if Ciel had to guess. "… I am Gentle… once a servant of old gods… and new ones… though I am perhaps… a more literal… version of that word… instead of those… 'men of the cloth'…"
"What do you want, Gentle?" Ciel asked, trying to reach for the bell-pull in the gloom while keeping his eyes towards where the intruder was. He reached around, but only found air. Gentle chuckled, a sound like buffets of autumn wind against windows.
"… No need for that… besides… that rope is here…" Gentle said, and a soft thump next to his body told Ciel that he'd tossed the rope onto the bed. "… As I've said… I wish to serve you… as a manager of… that rabble you call… a staff…"
"Sebastian does that on his own well enough," Ciel defended, but he had to admit that Gentle had a point. Even for 'a hell of a butler,' the rest of his staff was a hassle. "What would you be able to do that he couldn't?"
"… Succeed…" he said simply, irking the head of Phantomhive. "… To prove it… I shall serve you… for a fortnight… without trap or… attached string… If you're are dissatisfied by then… I shall leave… if you are not… we may discuss… my pay…" Ciel thought about it hard. Here was someone who, to his knowledge, had bested Sebastian's senses with his stealth, a supernatural accomplishment. He claimed to be able to manage his staff better than his own butler, but only one thing could prove him right or wrong.
"… Should I agree, what happens to my butler?" he asked, worried that any agreement may replace him.
"… He will serve you… as will I… should you wish…" Gentle said. "… The strings that… bind you two… are strong… not that I couldn't… cut them… but such an act… would be unseemly of me…"
"At least you have some manners," Ciel said. "I agree to your terms."
"…Excellent…" Gentle said. Air that Ciel hadn't even noticed was chilly suddenly warmed. "… I shall meet you… properly tomorrow… in the light… So that… we may… meet… each… other… face… to… face…" Ciel's eyes drooped with each word, and after the last one, he fell back into his pillow.
"Good morning, my lord," Sebastian said, opening the curtains. Ciel grumbled, pulling the covers over his head, but Sebastian was having none of it. "No, you don't, get up here and get dressed."
"Bugger off, I have a pounding headache," Ciel groaned, surprising Sebastian. He really must be in a sorry state if he was willing to curse for extra sleep. "I don't know what made me like this, but I'm going to order you to beat it senseless when I found out what it was." Sebastian closed the curtains until only slivers of light could enter, and then peeled back the sheets.
"Sit up, I must have a look at you," he said, waiting for his master to listen. He did so slowly, holding his temple. Blood stained the pillow in a large red blotch and Ciel's face was covered in crusted flakes of the stuff. "What on Earth were you doing last night, sir? You're covered in enough blood to fill a wineglass to the brim, not to mention ruin the pillow."
"Damn the pillow and damn the blood, help me with this headache," Ciel said, turning his head up enough for Sebastian to see the rest of his face. Dark circles puffed out beneath his bloodshot eyes. Tracks of blood ran from both his nose and the corners of his eyes, coagulated such that it was a wonder he could even open them. "What's your problem?"
"This," Sebastian said, handing him a small mirror. Ciel was shocked at his state and demanded a bath be drawn at once. Sebastian pulled the bell cord, and had Mey-Rin strip and clean the bed sheets. Once in the bathroom, his butler used a cloth to clear away the mess and assisted him in washing the rest of himself afterward. "Almost back to normal I'd say."
"Almost isn't good enough," Ciel said, still holding his head and sighing in pain. "I need something for this, and a pot of tea strong enough to tan leather." He was served breakfast in a darkened dining room, medicine and tea beside his plate when Sebastian informed him of something that jogged his memory in the most unpleasant way.
"Sir, you have a visitor at the door." A fork clattered against a plate of eggs, and Ciel practically jumped out of his chair in his rush to greet the stranger. Sebastian held his shoulder to stop him for a moment. "He's in the entry hall and has a peculiar look to him. I would be cautious." Ciel nodded and resumed his walk at a much slower pace. Indeed, the mansion now felt odd, a feeling which intensified the closer he got to the hall. The feeling vanished as soon as his hand was on the doorknob, which ironically made him even warier. He stepped through.
The man had his back turned, attention on the portrait of his parents hung above the landing on the staircase. He had amazingly dark brown, almost black, hair tied in a low ponytail, long enough to reach just between his shoulder blades. He seemed to be half a head taller than Sebastian, but skinny enough to weigh a bit less. His suit was made by a professional, one Ciel had never met, and was charcoal black. His shoes were black and polished bright, but also not from London. He somehow seemed familiar. Despite Sebastian and Ciel's steps echoing loudly, still, the stranger didn't turn around to face them.
"Good morning, sir, I am Ciel Phantomhive, is there anything I may help you with?" Ciel asked, and he finally got a good look at his face. Whirlpools of mercury sat where his eyes were supposed to be, draining into his pupils to create a void. They drew in Ciel, nearly drowning him, but Sebastian anchored him with a hand on his shoulder as he looked on at the stranger with relaxed features. The stranger smiled.
"Good morning, my lord, I am Gen Teller, but please call me Gentle. I was informed that your staff is not quite up to par, despite the legendary Phantomhive hospitality. I've come to serve you, and remedy the problem," he said, somewhat deep voice echoing perhaps a bit more than it should. "I have a policy I apply to strictly if you'll agree to it, that I work for two weeks without fees, and then discuss terms with my new master afterward. Call it a test trial. So far, not a one has been dissatisfied."
"Then why are you looking to serve me?" Ciel asked. "Surely, your perfect record wasn't sullied at your previous place of employment?"
"Nothing of the sort," he said, unoffended. "My previous master died of old age, may God rest his soul."
"I see," Ciel said. "Sebastian, check his background and credentials. If he passes, give him a tour of the grounds and help him settle in. Make sure he's up to scratch." Sebastian bowed, and Ciel left the room to finish breakfast. Silence descended upon the hall, the two men left alone there staring at each other.
"I confess, I've never met anything like you," Sebastian said, making Gentle smile.
"Few have. I take that as a compliment," he said. "I'm what you might call a dying breed. Others might say my kind were killed off." He shook his head sadly, clicking his tongue. "It's a real shame, my family always made such great butlers, but now look at me; not so much as a cousin to reunite with."
"A tragedy," Sebastian said, tone bordering on deadpan, but still polite. They hadn't blinked yet. "Tell me again, what did you say your previous employer's name was?"
"I didn't," Gentle said. His smile, while relaxed and natural, hadn't so much as twitched since he'd put it on. "I heard that you were brought on two years ago. At least, that's what these walls are saying."
"I've heard that walls have ears, I never knew they had mouths," Sebastian said. Gentle slowly moved a hand across the wallpaper behind him, head unmoved despite the angle.
"You'd be surprised what can listen and speak. The wallpaper may change, but it's still the same wall underneath, and it's been here since your master first walked past it. You can smell the age of the wood if you're careful enough." Gentle said. Sebastian and this man were thoroughly enjoying this game, but both were hiding it professionally. Gentle stepped away from the wall and down the stairs, stride carrying him further than one would expect, and ended up standing directly in front of Sebastian in fewer steps than it should have taken. Neither had broken eye contact. "So, have I earned the privilege of seeing the grounds?"
"I should think so," Sebastian said. "Follow me, and listen to everything I say."
"I shall try my damndest to do so," Gentle said, unable to resist slipping in the phrase. Sebastian looked at him sideways as they began walking, irked at having to look up for once.
"Please refrain from such language, my master is a high-class individual and such language is not tolerated," Sebastian reprimanded. "If you're to serve a Phantomhive, you must dedicate yourself to being as proper as one of your station ought to be. A butler who can't do that much isn't worth his salt."
"Undoubtedly. Please accept my apologies," Gentle said, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart. Sebastian wondered where he'd gotten the gloves, he certainly wasn't wearing them a minute ago, and wasn't his suit different not moments ago? It seemed familiar somehow. Suddenly he realized: his own outfit was identical. "I always aim to please my masters, and my peers."
"I can tell. If you don't mind my saying, you're as human as I am, but I have difficulty telling what you are. Might you enlighten me?" Sebastian asked, taking a path through the gardens. Gentle smiled.
"As human as you? No, you have me pinned all wrong, my friend." The air temperature plummeted, turning Sebastian's surprised breath into a cloud. Reality warped, the air turned into the rolling and crashing waves of a beach and the ground transformed into the bones of indescribable beasts. The cause was the index finger Gentle was holding up next to his smiling face. "I'm far, far, less human than you."
"I see that now, my apologies," Sebastian replied, unfazed. Reality returned to its rightful state, and they resumed walking. "So far, I've gathered next to nothing about you. Do you intend to keep it that way while you're here?"
"No, I'll tell your master of my capabilities. Should he decide to spill the beans is entirely up to him, but that comes later," Gentle said, flicking a worm from one of the bushes. "For now, all I've seen of these grounds is the entry hall driveway and gardens, hardly a full tour. Let's be on our way, shall we?" Sebastian smiled amicably.
"Yes, we shall. I so hope my lord wishes to retain your services after a fortnight of your company," he said. "I've met your for hardly an hour and already I can tell that I'll enjoy working with you."
"Keep that sadistic streak out in the open, and I could say the same."