Necro: Not entirely sure why I'm starting this now of all times, but I feel like rebooting my Black Butler story is necessary.
MP: Though why now of all times eludes us both.
The carriage bumped along the country road, the wheels rattling as they spun, and the horses whinnied softly as they kept up their brisk pace. The driver, a tall man wearing a long black coat and a hat to protect himself from the pouring rain, snapped the reins every time the horses appeared to flag. Inside the midnight blue carriage, a young woman, about twenty-five years old, sat on the matching seats and watched the drops of water on the glass of the window slide down and off. She sighed and switched to the other side of the carriage, something she had done several times already, and turned her gaze towards the window that, when not blocked by the driver, afforded her a view of the front of the carriage and the horses she thought were very beautiful.
The driver was also watching his surroundings, though not out of a desire to view the landscape. They had been riding for most of the day and the rain had only just started half an hour ago, and he was sure that they would have missed it if his mistress had not raised a fair bit of hell when he informed her of just how far their destination was. He despised the rain so very much and if his Lady was not who she was, he would have had something to say to her. He shivered slightly and tried to ignore it, the rain lowering his body temperature, stifling the fire at his core. He hated the rain.
Their destination lay ahead of them, blocked by the sheets of rain, but no less than fifteen minutes away: Phantomhive Manor. Rachel, the lady switching seats in the carriage, had received a letter from the queen, their benefactor, instructing Rachel to meet with the young Earl Phantomhive on a matter concerning the country. What that matter was, Rachel had not discussed with her butler, and driver at the moment. Mason sincerely hoped that none of the luggage tied to the back of the carriage had gotten wet, otherwise he would be spending his night drying every last article, right down to the last sock.
Another few bumps, a little splashed water, and fifteen minutes later Mason reined in the horses in front of the Phantomhive Manor's double, curved staircase that led to the double doors. Mason jumped down from his perch, pulling out the umbrella he kept next to him in case of rain, and moved to pull open the carriage door. Just as his hand touched the handle, Rachel threw open the door and quickly climbed out, ignoring the rain and her butler, who hastened to open the umbrella over her head.
"Ms. Rachel, I would greatly appreciate it if you would at least wait for me to open the umbrella before you exit the carriage," Mason said, trudging along behind his mistress and attempting to keep her covered with the object in question.
"Mason, I am not some delicate...thing like all those other Ladies in England. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." Rachel replied, almost boredly, as she walked up the steps and to the doors. "However, you may knock if you want." A small smirk played across her lips before disappearing.
Mason, for his part, decided against rising to the bait and moved to knock on the door, still holding the umbrella. He moved to his original position when the doors opened, revealing a tall, pale man with long black hair, clearly not properly combed. The man wore the typical butler clothing: a black tailcoat over a white suit, usually covered with a vest, with a black necktie and dress pants. His shoes were polished well enough for Mason and Rachel to make out blurred reflections of themselves.
"Good evening. Lady Landless, I presume? We expected you over an hour ago, so I am afraid that your dinner has gotten cold." The man stepped aside to allow them through, but Mason remained outside. "If you are willing to wait, I can have it warmed up for you."
"That would be excellent. My butler, Mason, will be busy bringing in my luggage, so if you could share me where I will be staying, that would be wonderful." Rachel smiled sweetly at the butler.
"Of course, Lady Landless." The man bowed.
"Thank you, um...my apologies, I didn't think to ask your name." She giggled softly as the butler, whom they both knew to be Sabastian Michaelis, gave her his name and led her off down the hall towards the guest bedrooms.
"Ms. Rachel, you outdo yourself sometimes." Mason muttered as the doors closed and he made his way back to the carriage to gather the luggage. As he was pulling the bags down, which he still firmly believed were purposefully packed with rocks just to annoy him, he spotted a young blonde boy with a straw hat and typical gardener's clothing watching him from a couple yards away. "Ah, excuse me, young man?" Mason called out, waving and smiling at the boy. "Would you mind giving me a hand? It would certainly make this go by easier."
Finn, the young gardener, smiled back and nodded. "If it's ok, I would love to help, sir!" His enthusiasm made Mason's smile broader and he nodded back. Finn grabbed the largest, and heaviest, bags and easily hefted them under his arms. Mason didn't react outside of a very slight widening of his eyes.
"Impressive, boy. Very impressive. I might just have to see about borrowing you during lumber season." Mason chuckled and grabbed the remaining three bags, all of which were small. "My name is Mason." He held out his hand for the other.
"I'm Finnian! It's nice to meet you, Mr. Mason!" Finn smiled, shifting the bags to one hand so he could shake the hand Mason offered.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Finnian." Mason already knew the names, and general personality, of the Phantomhive staff, and he had always liked the sound of Finn. "You don't have to carry this all the way to my Lady's room, but to the servant's entrance would be a big help."
"I don't mind helping you get it all the way there, Mr. Mason. The gardens got rained on while I was working on them." Finn pouted a little as he walked next to the taller man.
"Is that so? I am sorry to hear. I'm sure the garden will be fine in the morning, though a bit damp." Mason led the way up to the servant's entrance, a thankfully clearly visible dark wood door set into the side of the manor. As the two walked, Mason had to resist the urge to raise his external body temperature and drive off the cold slowly creeping into him from the rain. He really did not need to attract attention to himself or his Mistress, especially not from the master of the manor. "You'll have to lead the way once we are inside. I wasn't told where the guest rooms are."
"No problem! But why not ask Mr. Sebastian?" Mason held open the door for Finn and quickly entered after the boy, finding himself inside a well-lit, small antechamber with a coat hanger in one corner and an umbrella holder in another. The room was not decorated but was paneled with some form of brown hardwood that Mason could not identify.
"He went off to show my Lady her room, and though he is likely done with that, I do not wish to trouble him." Mason slipped off his coat and hung it up, making a mental note to return for it later. "Besides, he cannot fault me for asking the nearest readily available servant for assistance, now can he?" Mason quirked an eyebrow at Finn, a small smile playing around his lips.
Finn was about to answer when he noticed what Mason was wearing. "Hey, Mr. Mason, your suit is like Mr. Sebastian's!" Finn was right, Mason's suit was styled similarly to Sebastian's, but the white shirt that appeared to be under the waistcoat was, in fact, attached to it, hiding a custom made vest of an unearthly material. Mason's black pants were cut from the same cloth, so to speak, but had been tailored to appear like normal formal clothing. Another notable difference: Mason's tie was red, Sebastian's black.
"Is it? We must have the same tailor." Mason smiled and picked up the suitcases from where he had left them on the floor and gestured for Finn to lead on. "After you."
Finn nodded and eagerly led the way to the upper floor guest bedrooms, helping Mason locate his mistress's room by, gently, knocking on doors until receiving a polite reply and invitation to enter. "Lady Rachel, I helped Mr. Mason carry your cases up here!" Finn announced happily, dropping the suitcase under his arm at the foot of the massive four-poster bed.
"Thank you, I am sure he appreciated the effort on your part." Rachel nodded at the young gardener and returned his smile. Finn left the room with a big smile, happy that Mason and his Lady were nicer than Sebastian was. "Ugh!" Rachel sat down heavily in the desk chair she had been in when Finn had knocked. "I hate this so much."
"Which part?" Mason moved over to the large suitcase and opened it, searching through the clothes as he spoke.
"The dresses the most." She replied pointedly. "So stop picking out clothes for me." She all but growled, pulling out the pins holding her hair back from her face and using his hands to shake out the styled tresses.
"May I remind you that you nearly got me lynched the last time you picked your own clothes?" Mason asked, arching an eyebrow in his mistress's direction, and continued searching through the dresses.
"No, you may not. You promised to never mention that again." Rachel pouted at him then turned in her seat, reaching back to the neck of her current outfit.
"One, you made me promise that. Two, you cannot undress yet, you still have dinner." Mason lifted a periwinkle dress out of the trunk, still folded, and set it on the dresser.
"You could just bring it up to me, you know." Rachel turned around to face her butler, legs crossed and lips smiling.
"Or you could try to charm the young master of the manor before you attempt to broach the subject that brought us to this manor in the morning." Mason ignored her smile and picked up one of the smaller suitcases, opening it to reveal slippers in the same colors of the dresses in the large suitcase. "Will picking the shoe color make you feel better, my Lady?" Mason chuckled, holding out the shoe suitcase. He only barely managed to pull it back when Rachel aimed a kick at the case.
"What do you think, my-oh-so-helpful butler?" She smiled sweetly then spun to face the desk. After a moment, she asked, "Are the honey colored ones in there?"
"Of course, my Lady." Mason grinned to himself as he pulled out the specified slippers, setting them next to the dress. "You can uh...you can handle the underwear, yes?" Mason had only worked for Rachel for a few months and in that time he had successfully managed to avoid handling her underclothes, but now that would be almost impossible with her in the same room as him.
"As my butler and only servant, shouldn't you be comfortable with handling my underthings? Especially given the state that I am usually in at my own manor?" Rachel glanced over at Mason before resting her head on the desk. "Unless, of course, you're embarrassed to handle things like panties and corsets." Rachel smirked, lifting her head again and turning to watch his reaction.
"I-I'm not embarrassed by such things! I a-am just unfamiliar with them." Mason's face flushed as he realized what he had said and what it implied.
"Oh? So the man who so proudly points out with every chance he gets that has had more relationships than I could ever hope to have is actually a virgin?" Rachel's smirk widened and she leaned forward, a predatory gleam in her eyes.
"No, far from it. I've just...never had luck with the opposite sex..." Mason looked away from his mistress and set his mind to picking the right pair matching underwear.
"So you've only gotten naked with men?" Rachel asked, swiveling in her seat to fully face her butler.
"W-Well..." Mason rubbed the back of his neck, "not exactly." He set the selected underwear next to the dress. "I don't usually get undressed in front of people and I've not dated many women. Those I have...let's just say that I tend to attract cat fanatics."
"Oh, that is one thing that I can believe. Are you done picking out my clothes?" Rachel stood up and quickly ran her fingers through her hair.
"Yes, Ms. Rachel. Were you waiting until I was finished to head down to dinner?" When Rachel nodded, Mason bowed slightly, his right hand over his chest, and apologized. "I would have waited until later this evening if I had known."
"Don't be ridiculous. You know I'm going to need you by my side, especially if Sebastian is what you think he is." Rachel motioned for Mason to follow her and headed out for her dinner.
At the main staircase, Sebastian was waiting for them, a small smile on his face. "Your dinner will be served in one of the smaller dining areas. The young master is awaiting your arrival."
"We shouldn't keep him waiting any longer then, now should we?" Rachel swept her left arm in a 'lead on' gesture and returned the butler's smile. The tall man nodded and walked down the steps, leading the way to a room several doors down from the main dining hall. Sebastian opened the door for them and Rachel and Mason stepped inside, Mason escorting his mistress to a seat and pulling it out for her. "Mason, I can seat myself." She grumbled, taking the seat anyway.
"Very true, Ms. Rachel, but a gentleman pulls out a lady's seat for her." He replied quietly.
"I suppose." She shook her head and turned her gaze on the, barely, patiently waiting Earl. "So you are the infamous Earl Phantomhive. I actually expected someone..." She tapped her chin as she thought.
"Taller?" The young Earl supplied, his hands in his lap and his eye trained on Rachel. Sebastian moved to stand behind him just as Mason was doing for his mistress.
"Younger." The woman said. "I have only heard you described as a child. To me, a child is someone younger than ten years of age, or a person who acts as if they are that young. You must be at least thirteen, maybe fourteen." Rachel lifted her fork and speared a bit of the food on the plate in front of her. With her free hand, she gestured at Mason, who bent forward obediently. "Open." Mason opened his mouth and allowed Rachel to slip the fork in, closing his mouth and watching as she slid it back out, the food remaining behind. Straightening again, Mason chewed for a short while before swallowing and waiting for several minutes. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you," Rachel said to her butler before turning back to her meal and eating.
"Of course, Ms. Rachel." Mason replied, watching her despite having checked the food.
The Earl watched the entire event with some interest and while he normally would felt slightly insulted that anyone would think he would attempt poisoning them, the fact that it seemed so natural and that they both seemed aware of exactly who he was made it more instructional than anything else. "I doubt there many servants that willing to test their master's food for poison. How did you come by a person so loyal?"
"I imagine in the same way you did, Earl. Your butler has kept a very close eye on our movements since he met as at the stairs, ensuring that we are of no danger to you. Of course, I've noticed that your eyes are just as sharp. My apologies, I meant eye." Rachel smiled, ignoring the small tic that briefly made an appearance in the form of a twitching eyebrow.
"Ms. Rachel, I must confess that I am sincerely surprised that no one has attempted to kill you yet, with manners like those. Not to say I am not happy that no one has." Mason commented loud enough for the Earl to hear.
"Given that you are the one who tests everything for traps and the like, I would be concerned if you weren't happy." Rachel responded, the smile still on her face and no less sincere than before.
"You two have a very...different dynamic than most who bring their servants along when visiting the young master." Sebastian said after a moment. Both chose to ignore the observation.
"This is a very excellent version of kig ha farz. I wonder if I might ask you to teach the recipe to my butler. He knows only a few French meals and it would be wonderful if he knew this one." Rachel gestured politely at the dish before her, the meal already half-gone.
"It would be my pleasure." Sebastian replied, now just a little curious about the odd pace of the conversation.
"Perfect. Thank you." Rachel glanced at her plate then up at Mason. "Mason, would you-"
"No, Ms. Rachel." Mason did not look at his mistress when he responded to the unfinished question, looking about the room in an almost bored fashion.
"Oh fine." She sighed and continued to eat.
"Lady Rachel, if you don't mind, I would like to at least know why you requested to meet me before we finish here and you head to bed." The Earl said just as Rachel finished off her last forkful of food.
"Hmm...how about a game? You win, I tell. I win, I go to bed and leave you in suspense." Rachel's grin had turned a bit mischievous. "You can even pick the game. Doesn't matter what type."
"Ms. Rachel, if you start a game now it will be very late before you finish and I doubt the Earl wishes to remain awake until the wee hours of the morning." Mason glanced at the Earl hopefully then quickly at Sebastian when he saw that the young man was seriously considering the idea. Sebastian simply ignored him.
"Mason, would you mind if I use your dice?" Rachel asked, drawing her butler's attention back to her.
"Ms. Rachel, the last time I let you borrow my dice, you kept them for a week. Besides, I am sure that the Earl has dice that you can use, if the game requires them." Mason sincerely hoped that it wouldn't. It would not be a good idea to upset their host before discussing the matter that brought the two to the Phantomhive manor.
"I am willing to indulge the Lady's request. And if she wishes to use dice, I have a game in mind." The Earl smiled and gestured at Sebastian, "Sebastian, will you go fetch A Night in Wrath's Land?" Sebastian bowed and exited just as Mason made a small choking sound, which he cut short when Rachel discreetly maneuvered her chair so that the leg whacked his knee.
"Is there an issue?" She murmured, hardly moving her lips and keeping her gaze forward.
"He made a comment. It was funnier than I was prepared for." Mason answered, following his mistress's example. "Do you really wish to use my dice? They require cleaning."
"You polish those things every night, don't try to con me." Rachel almost laughed, but quickly bit it back. "Besides, I like them. They're pretty."
"I will make sure to tell my brother that you appreciate his work." Mason reached into the left side of his suit jacket and pulled out a pair of mahogany dice with tiny metal beads worked very carefully into the wood and, as stated by Rachel, polished nightly. "Just be careful with them, Ms. Rachel."
"Last I checked, the butler doesn't tell the mistress what to do." She replied with a grin, taking the dice happily. "Besides, when I have not treated your property with respect?"
"Yesterday. Last Tuesday. Last Monday, twice. Need I go on?" Mason muttered, mostly to himself, then turned his attention to the door where Sebastian was re-entering with the game box tucked under his arm.
"We happened to have kept the sample that was sent to you, young master." Sebastian presented the box and the Earl nodded.
"Excellent. Set the game up on the table." The table in question was not the same one as the table that Rachel had been eating at, but a small one set off to the side, the perfect size for the game board.
"Ms. Rachel, is it just me or does that table seem like it was set up beforehand?" Mason bent to whisper to Rachel this time, entirely certain that it wouldn't matter now if he was seen speaking to his mistress.
"Oh, so you finally noticed it?" Rachel asked as innocently as she could, if for no other reason than to tease Mason.
"Remind me why I accepted this job." Mason mumbled, this time to himself.
"Sometimes I think it's because you fancy me." Rachel replied happily.
"My brother is the insane one, remember?" Mason shot back as Rachel moved to the small table with the game board on top of it.
"You wound me, sir." Rachel deadpanned, sitting across from the Earl. She smiled at the young man and steepled her fingers. "So, Earl, shall we play?"
Necro: Fuck it! I'm ending on a cliffhanger! I apologize to those of you who have been waiting on me to update my other stories. I have been experiencing writer's block and did attempt to work through it.
MP: He only managed one sentence.