AN: Kuroshitsuji isn't mine…And neither is the title (the one I made sucked. Lol) So for the new title 'Lord Butler: Ciel Phantomhive' I give full credit to 'Paxloria' ….thanks!
oh, but the chapters are mine :)
PROLOGUE
"Why...why can I still see you? You said you would do it...you said you would finish it...why?"
A dry wind blows through the cracks of a rocky grey mountain, looming in the distance of desert fields...The sounds of grunts and a mist of sweat encircle the paths winding the jagged behemoth. Beings that look like humans and beings that look nothing like humans trudge up the mighty mountain bearing shackles and tattered clothes and the crack of the whip from above by a demonic slave driver. The deep orange orb beams mercilessly on their bodies as they make their way to a tower carved into the mountain where many voices echo in conversational tones.
Among the ring of slaves there stands a human boy, no more than 16...with pale skin parched in the heat and dirt smudging a delicate face. One eye stares a deep sapphire blue to the tower ahead...glazed and catatonic. The other eye a majestic purple, an old symbol smearing it a lavender tint...a relic of memories and times long gone.
As the line of slaves reaches the top they are corralled into a lantern lit underground cavern where they drop their loads and supplies for a momentary reprieve. A goblin like creature storms through the cavern with a rusty steel cauldron, throwing a rancid slop at the walls and grinning at the slaves who greedily claw at each other to get one lick of the sickening meal...However, not all take part in the frenzy.
The blue eyed boy drops the crate of silver and platinum ore onto the ground unceremoniously and slinks into the corner, eyes still incoherent...a mere puppet.
The goblin comes over with pomp and mocks the boy with slop, splattering it on the ground before him to which the boy does not move. The goblin gets angry and kicks the boy over, laughing at the feel of ribs protruding just beneath the flesh. Enjoying himself he hoists the boy up by the collar, inspecting him, only to pour the rest of the hot steaming slop onto his already frail form. The body does not twitch; the eyes do not move...there is no scream.
A bell rings and the goblin cracks the whip to signal the formation once more and they pick up their loads and make their gruesome ascent to the tops of the mountain.
Meetings at Dusk
The tower carved into the high mountain is of intricate workmanship, Looming with the beauty of a castle it glistens under the orange sky and inside, jolly voices can be heard and the sounds of camaraderie. Inside is a large hall with marble floors and chandelier ceilings bearing deep grey curtains on large un-glassed windows letting in a summer air. Various attractions entice the eye from gambling booths and cigar stands to shelves of all the strangest of wines and bartenders making devilish concoctions to the appeasement of richly dressed men and women. A balcony sits at the top of the grand hall, bearing a tent clothed in deep red velvet covers. On the balcony are plush seats to recline on and men and women grinning satisfied at the procession below. Among these is a man clad in all black, with locks as dark as night spilling casually over his shoulders. Cherry red eyes look un-phased and almost...bored of the whole thing...
"Corbiau darling! Why the long face?" Chimes a woman with red locks, a dress of gold hugging her closely
The raven haired man called 'Corbiau' turns to her with a small smile "I am quite through with all this mundane fanfare humans call fun…I never really understood it." He replies apologetically
"But Corbiau isn't it exciting? Here in the Deeps (Home of demons) we have no such things!" she protests
Corbiau sighs "Yes I realize this...but I have seen it already...the lavishness and lust that is human entertainment." he finishes with a slight pained expression
Excusing himself from his guests for the moment he departs from the balcony and retires down a staircase of black marble. A man with blonde locks, a white suit and mint green eyes stops the man in the hall.
"Leaving already Corbiau?" he says amiably
The man called Corbiau nods, "Yes, Aden, I am leaving...you said we were here to view some new mineral found in the mines, yes?" he asks, rather annoyed
Aden throws his hands up in defense "Ah! Yes, yes, but Cor-bie, I forgot! Come on, there's a party going on and sweet faces all around!" He croons, waving to a group of woman who swoon at him
Corbiau shakes his head "Listen...do you want my investment or not?" he snaps
"I'm here for business...I'll give you nothing until you show me the product" he finished evenly
A reality check given, Aden retires from his admirers and they head out down a lesser quality stone stair case and proceed to walk a jagged stone path winding its way down the mountain.
"I hope you don't mind the walk, where we're going is the pits." he rattled off
"Not at all." Corbiau replied "I rather approve of humble dwellings."
Aden sucks his teeth "It's been 3 human years since you returned and in that time alone you somehow have managed to reach the 'prince' category on the Hierarchy of Demon Energy, you bought out 3 of the elders' estates in its entirety, and are the fastest growing company since Wormwood." Aden bites off "I'd say you're anything but humble, Cor-bie."
A small smile dances at the corners of Corbiau's mouth "An entrepreneur who can't do that
Much, isn't worth his sa-
"Here we are!" Aden chimes grandly, startling Corbiau from his memories.
They enter a cavern with rancid slop smeared on the walls and ascend a crumbling staircase leading to a large grey rock platform with a makeshift balcony of toppling stones.
They overlook an adjacent mountain even more jagged then the cliffs below. "That's where the platinum ore deposits were found..." Aden says
"Have you begun mining preparations?" Corbiau asks
"No, we left the initial withdrawals to the henchman of the Falls (the inhabitants of the mountain itself)...it seems they managed to get a good three crates full for inspection so we should check them before any of it goes missing." he finished
Leaving the empty cavern they walk further down the mountain until a sharp cry from the mountain across catches their eye. A pale boy is prodded with a sharp tool in the ribs through the tattered robe he thrashes in.
Corbiau and Aden shake their heads in disgust at the display and then with the brush of a summer wind...A scent rides the air, creeping slowly into the nostrils of the raven haired demon...A scent with enough strength to sate an army of demons...an old scent...a scent that should be dead...
The boy writhes beneath the tortures of the stick, while yells and spits of insults surround his senses in a chaotic buzz. Though he tries to stay in his immobile state he can no longer manage it...the pain is too great...the emotions too strong...the fury too great...
A sharp yell explodes from the usually catatonic boy, he yells with a voice straining cry, clawing at the ears of his tormentors and thrashing around violently with all his might. His fists beat into the man with the stick, causing him to topple and lose it over the cliffs.
His fury of attacks takes the whole of three tamers to hold him down while the now, stick-less man lays into his back with a whip. The boy yells and screams with all the anger of a million bulls, hissing and growling in rage...
"Why would you do this to me?" he yells to some unknown source
"I trusted you! You said you would take it...All of it! Why?...Why did you leave some left...Why didn't you finish my so-"
His rants are cut short by a quick blow to the head rendering him unconscious. The other lines of slaves stare at him while low conversations are held among the group of tamers.
"This kid aint right in tha head...happens all tha time, he'll be stone cold as a rock...then next thin you kno he screamin and foamin and such, talkin bout human places and people we aint nevr even heard of...he's sick I tell ya...need to hav im flaked." A gruff goblin chimes
"I say we throw the damn runt over a cliff and call it a day...he damaged the platinum ore samples today...he's costin us money!" Hisses another tamer
"Nah, we can't ditch im, boss'll hav our heads if his 'labor' is messed with...I think we should do all ourselves a favor...
The other two look expectantly at him... "Let's sell him."
The scent hit Corbiau like a thousand trains...a scent that seeped into his nostrils and trickled down the throat until he stood, eyes glowing...stone still...
"Corbiau!" Aden yelled, trying to catch the demon's attention "Don't tell me you get off on this kind of thing?" He yelled incredulously
Corbiau shakes his head slowly "That scent..." He manages to whisper
"Oh great! You're enchanted." Aden gripes "Of all the places to be..." he rattles off "Just...hurry it up."
Lost in a sea of pure bliss, like dark clouds to herald the storm... the haunting ravings of the child, tear at his mind with clawing fury, rocking him violently from bliss, A cold sweat forms slowly as he tries to rationalize the words that paint a grave error and a foul mistake...
"No…I finished…I-I ate every bit…why-"
Aden looks worriedly at the man's reaction to the boy's ravings across the mountain. When the child is silenced Corbiau watches with growing alarm as he's laid out on an X shaped wooden stand and hoisted over the shoulder and carried up the mountain ahead of the slaves.
"They're going to sell him...they're going to sell him!" Corbiau yelled
Pushing past Aden he runs up the path alongside the mountain, Aden dashing after him and shouting for some clearance on the matter. Reaching the staircase that leads to the royal event Aden pushes in front of Corbiau and gives him a hard stare...
"What is going on here? You can't go in there with that look on your face!" he chides, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder in support
Corbiau stops and for the first time takes a deep breath, relaxing on the exhale. He brushes a strand of his raven locks from his face and stares in thought before fixing a determined gaze onto his friend.
"Aden, I'm in need of a slave...I want to go to the auction..." he says
"You what?" Aden sputtered loudly, as they stood in a hallway
"I want to buy a slave...therefore...I need an invite to the auction." Corbiau replies easily
"No! That's-you can't get an invite! That's Wormwood territory! (The biggest company around)" Aden exclaims
Corbiau looks un-phased "You can do it, can't you Aden?" he asks in a goading tone
Aden stomps "Listen! The Wormwood Company's head already has a problem because you're the biggest threat in 500 years...and now you want to walk right in on an event he hosts himself?"
Corbiau shakes his head, exasperated "That's what I'm saying...now, can you do it or not?" he snaps
Aden looks desperately at his friend to try and convince him but then with a sigh of resignation agrees to the task. "Be ready to go tomorrow morning...Is this all because of that boy?" he asks quietly, knowing he's in sensitive territory
Corbiau narrows his eyes "I just need a quality slave...that is all."
The Auction
The morning comes with grey clouds and a cool breeze. In a large green forest a daunting black mansion looms predatory in the folds of trees, a steel gate out front bearing a pentacle of intricate design. The back yard area of the large mansion bears cleared fields of well mowed grass and black horses graze lazily. Red roses paint the grounds of the estate in a tangle with white roses. The back of the mansion bears a similar facade as the front, a large black wood door, lined in gold. Out of this entrance comes Corbiau, Black coat hugged close to his neck. Leaving the confines of his home a grey carriage bearing black horses strides out front, a stump of a man holds the carriage door open and Corbiau enters.
"Good morning Cor-bie...As the humans would say!" Aden chirped happily in the silver cushioned seat
A small laugh escaped Corbiau's mouth "Your pension for eternal joy is most admirable."
Aden beams and the carriage rode through the misty air gracefully... After a ride in silence the carriage begins to descend, signaling their arrival. Looking from the draped window Corbiau sees a host of other carriages descending with different horses to the ground, the mist gives way to a large cubed building made of a glistening dark stone. Shops litter the cobbled streets, high end society citizens gliding gracefully from store to store. The carriage rides over the city quietly attracting inquisitive looks and gasps at the seal displayed on the carriage door.
The carriage finally lands in front of the cubed building where excited voices and lavishly dressed patrons funnel in and out of the building or smoke cigars on the side. Corbiau looks straight ahead at the onslaught of surprised expressions and enters with Aden trailing behind.
Deep in the basement of the cubed auction hall are cells with the future 'to-be-solds' waiting their fate. In one cell that is slightly less shabby then the rest, sits a pale face with dark circles, eyes far away...mumbling with a soft cadence a name that echoes softly on the walls.
In storms a partially fashionable dressed man with a rough look and hard features. He walks down the hall sliding a bucket across the cell bars, startling its occupants awake. Yelling obsinities he jerks the doors open one by one, dousing them with ice cold water and forcing them to undress and scrub with an old bar of lye. Coming to the young boy he pulls open the door with annoyance and yanks the child by the tattered collar of his clothes. "It's been told to me that you aint to get no bath...they wanna see you in all yur filth." he snarled to the boy's lifeless face
Dragged by the collar up a wooden stair case, the smells of civility and cleanliness become stronger; perfumes and wines creating a pleasant haze that betrays the malicious intent of the gathering. Voices creating an eloquent buzz become louder as the man reaches the ceiling with a hatch above it like an attic. A man with an announcer's cadence echoes as the lights of the building flash blindingly.
"Ladies and Gentleman...fellow fiends of the Deeps...I would like to welcome you to Wormwood Inc.'s annual auction!" The silver haired announcer resounded with a flourish of grey silk
"Here we have all of your most desirable commodities and treasures!...scavenged from the heights of many worlds...jewels, parchments, antiques, even…live commodities!" he bellows grandly with a wink at the line of shiny slaves dressed in brown robes, shivering quietly on display
"With a special word from the current head of Wormwood Inc. we will begin the auctioneering...Thank You!" he finishes to a jubilee of laughter and applause.
From an ornate door in the great hall a tall man walks gracefully towards the dais, silencing the hall. Teal ocean locks flow gracefully down a narrow, pale face with sharp features, Eyes glistening gold stare calmly and with dignity ahead in white while a white velvet cape flutters behind. Making it to the stage the glittering gaze looks out appreciatively at his audience.
"I welcome you...my patrons, to the grand Wormwood auction...for those who do not know my name, as there are many who have traveled worlds away to reach me...I am Mammon, the 18th generational head of Wormwood Inc." The man says grandly to applause
"It is my hope that the future of those of nobility will continue to invest in my company, A company with years of history and honor to the elite...and provide only the most forbidden fruits, to the Adam's and Eve's of the Deeps."
With that the man turns on his heel and walks away to an explosion of applause and cheers.
Mammon disappears behind the door once more, signaling the auction has begun. The great hall is sectioned off into different categories. Items on display of varying quality attract pools of attendees as the hosts of the auctions stand above and begin callings. Coming out of the shadows are the man who calls himself Corbiau and Aden who walk briskly through the fanfare to the back with the most spectators...the slave auction.
Corbiau stands at the back, viewing the line of just washed slaves that stand shivering like twigs. Buyers are allowed to poke and prod the line, inspecting the teeth, the mobility of muscles and the health of their...unmentionables.
A number is called up and the auction begins with polite offers, exploding into heated matches of high priced fury, the violent waving of picket numbers and the straining voice of the host to be louder than it all. After the first line of slaves is auctioned off, the contented buyers funnel out and more expensively dressed buyers funnel in to take the place.
The next line of slaves are cleaner and dried, hair pulled back with leather string and robes of tan cotton...these are much pricier and come in more variety of looks and more alert expressions. The bidding begins again and as before, but with more fury do the rich and famous battle with numbers and fists full of placards. Another line of slaves is auctioned off. Finally the last line of slaves comes in, dressed in robes of black cotton and looking like regular citizens who for whatever reason found themselves sold or who came to it willingly because of the benefits and better treatment an auction slave receives under the rich or noble family versus the merchant slaves.
A funnel of the second line slaves leave out contented and finally a large group, though smaller than the previous lines takes the stage to begin buying. The nobility and etiquette among these is impeccable and you could hear a pin drop as the host calls a number up for inspection, names a starting bid, and calmly numbers are called increasing to unbelievable heights. The host, seeing the pricing going well begins to goad the buyers with the specs of the slaves...
"This my friends is a young beauty from across the world in HighAlp...Found unconscious in the Alpazian temple of offering to their thunder god, this aboriginal woman is 100 percent healthy, 100 percent sacred temple bred and 100 percent virgin in body and blood...come now...do I hear 400,000 silver...400,000 silver?" the host calls
A placard rises for 400,000 silver and the crowd looks back at Aden who for the first time retains an expression of purebred stoic nobility that Corbiau grins at. Another buyer goes for 500,000 and another for 700,000...with a stalemate seeming to be reached Aden holds up his placard one last time.
"1 million silver pieces!" he announces to the host
A round of silence permeates the air..."SOLD!" yells the host grandly and a round of applause is given.
The female looks at Aden from across the room with bright blue eyes framing a warm tan complexion, raven black locks shine healthily and spill over her shoulders to her ankles, blending with the robes. Aden gives a sheepish smile and waves with his placard to her amiably while she stares in awe at him as she is lead down the stair case and back into the holding area to prepare for her departure.
Corbiau gives Aden a questioning look "And what do you plan to do with her?" he asks in an almost angry tone.
Aden gives Corbiau a small smile "My mother was a native born from the HighAlp...they are a humble people...but a noble people...I can't let that part of me be defamed knowingly." He said softly, anger creeping slowly into a hard expression
Sensing this Corbiau jolsts his shoulder playfully and ruffles his hair "You did the right thing... and besides...this is the only way you'd ever get a mate anyway." he rattled off
Aden blushed, fuming at his friend and hurling similar insults, the tension released.
Looking to the host who exchanged whispers with a rough looking man in partially fashionable clothing he turns to the last round of buyers that wait in silence, expectant.
"You think they changed their minds about selling him?" Aden asks
"No...He's here." Corbiau replies with a dark expression
Reunion
The announcer finally turns to the small noble crowd, Corbiau and Aden included a small smile on his lips...
"Good patrons, your patience serves you well... every year at the auction of persons we give away the rarest of beings in the most quality of conditions...However, when all has been sold and the placards are laid to rest there are those who still can not find their appetites appeased...That is why for the past five years a special category has been added...a category of only one slave but one that has been approved by lord Mammon himself...One who is appetizing and enticing with no help at all and has the potential for exponential quality...Once again we present you with gold among lead...A black rose among weeds...Wormwood Inc. presents our highest bid category..."
The host signals a man who comes out with a flourish, draping a silk deep blue cover over a large leather chair facing away from the crowd, A noise that sounds like a hatch opening cannot be seen from behind the high backed chair, the only view from below the chair is a pair of pale legs standing wobbly, smudged with dirt.
"My good patrons...give credence to our last and highly prized product...we present to you...our diamond in the rough!"
A round of applause explodes from all around as other buyers come to spectate and the buyers of the special category look with anticipation. The chair is swirled around to the sharp gasp of Corbiau and the rest of the spectators in awe. Standing out strikingly against the blue we find our snow skinned boy of 16, sitting loosely on the clothed chair, a revealing tattered grey robe showing graceful thighs and delicate limbs. A mane of deep blue falls in long bangs framing a creamy yet dirt smudged complexion, while a sapphire blue eye stares lifeless into space, the majestic purple on the other, smeared lavender with an old seal.
The hall is quiet as the buyers inhale deeply and breathe in husky tones. No one is allowed to touch the diamond in the rough but they have the boy stand and raise his tattered clothing in certain places that sends Corbiau into a rage with shining red eyes.
"Calm down, calm down Cor-bie!" Aden whispers frantically to the increasing shadowy aura.
He hands Corbiau a placard which he snaps in half and continues to do so until Aden pulls it away "Stop, Corbiau! They only have so many! Don't fight here, this is WW (wormwood) territory and if Mammon catches wind of you, you might never see that blue fluff ball ever again." he says seriously
Corbiau looks to the child on the seat and swallows "You're right...I'm behaving childishly...give me the placard." he finishes tiredly Reluctantly handing him the 20th placard Aden stands by his friend with worried eyes.
You could hear a pin drop as the buyers wait for the bidding to begin...
"We'll start the bidding at 10 million silver…"
"Do I hear 10 million silver...yes...10 million."
"Let's move to 20 million...20 million silver anyone..."
"50 million...we're going for 50-okay we are now at 50 million silver pieces..."
The only sound is the wift of placards stabbing silently at the air and of the silent breaths of worry and anticipation in the crowd. Among these is Corbiau who keeps his placard down until the 3 call mark before selling and continues the bidding by giving a higher number two times higher than the rest, throwing many buyers out of the ring early. After an hour or so has passed, sweat lines the brows of most of the small buyers left while dark angry lines etch into Corbiau's expression, Aden stands awkwardly to the side of his seething friend, staying out of the death gaze but acting as a leash should his friend attack.
"Cor-bie, can you calm it down...a little?" he asks meekly
Corbiau shoots him a glowing look "Enough...it's time to end this..."
Corbiau walks through the crowd boldly to the surprised expressions and gossip of spectators as he makes his presence seen. He tears his placard apart and lets it fall ceremoniously to the floor...
"One. Million. Platinum." He states with finality
The entire group erupts in gasps of surprise as the host tries to maintain himself, Aden looks incredulously at Corbiau "platinum? Platinum?" he yells
Corbiau stares down the host until he looks around the room at the other bidders...With silence all around and placards dropped angrily or in defeat the host takes to the podium on the dais, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Never, in the history of the Wormwood Auction, has a buyer ever purchased a slave ...or any item at the auction for that matter...in platinum...even 10000 pieces is a rarity and we have 1 million!...this, good patrons, raises the stakes for you all...and to this noble gentleman we have but one word for you..."
"SOLD!" he bellows over the podium
Pleased applause litters the hall while the winning man looks oblivious to it all heading in a quick stride towards the podium with Aden trailing behind.
A partially fashionable dressed man with rough features comes in front of Corbiau with a sheepish smile "You know, he may be quite the looker but I've been in charge of that brat fur tha past few days and honestly he's mad as a bull, but a trick I use to get im tame is to get the fire poker going, that seems to-
The man stops when blazing fiery eyes, dilated with fury turn a shadowy countenance to him, a few members of the crowd taking notice, Corbiau quickly turns his head "AAAddenn!" Corbiau yells in a warning tone
Aden rushes up "I got him."
With a swift arm around the shoulder Aden whisks the man behind a curtain where a few gasps of pain later he emerges with a grin
"He'll not be walking for a while Cor-bie".
Corbiau nods and walks up the stairs to the dais but once again something stops him short..."Sir, would you like us to gift wrap him? We have many styles of clothing and-
"No...I'll take him as he is." Corbiau says shortly
"bu-but sir, we usually do this with our hand deliveries, on our pride as the Wormwood-
"Leave my sight!" Corbiau growls angrily at the men who scurry away
He walks over to the chair where the 'delivery man' holds the boy's delicate body. Marching over to him and removing his gloves to reveal a pentagram seal he wraps his arms gently around the delicate frame "Give him to me." he snarls quietly to the immediate release of the child.
With the boy now in his arms he relaxes considerably and his eyes soften, stroking the closed lids and caressing his cheek appreciatively..."C-
"What are YOU doing here?" A familiar voice chimes rudely, alarming Corbiau.
Corbiau looks back at Wormwood's current head..."Good to see you...Mammon."
Escape
The teal haired man bore golden eyes into the dark red before him. "I see it was you who purchased our diamond in the rough with platinum?" he snaps angrily, taking full view of the child in Corbiau's arms.
Corbiau squeezes the child close to his breast "Yes, it was me." He says evenly
Mammon looks appalled and gives him a dark look "What makes you think I needed your platinum?
Are you trying to make a fool of me? Of my company?" he hissed quietly
"I just came to purchase a slave and you were the best around so-
"Return him." Mammon demands
Corbiau's eyes grow dark with malice "I. will. Not."
"You can have all your money back, but this is property of Wormwood Inc. and I demand that you return our prized item so that we can resell him to one of our loyal patrons!" he barks hotly
"I paid my money just like everyone else here Mammon, and I intend to keep my...product." he bites off
Mammon looks utterly enraged and makes a gesture signaling an armada of men in black cloaks, pistols strapped to their waists.
"Now...if you don't cooperate, I'm going to have to have 'security' escort you off the premises..." Mammon says with a false tone of politeness
"I have no intention to cooperate with you Mammon." Corbiau snarls quietly stepping back
"Cor-bie..." Aden calls in a warning tone, looking at the increasing enforcements
"You will hand over the boy and he will be resold to me!" Mammon yells
"Go to heaven." Corbiau retorts with a grin
"Guards! Retrieve this product at once!"
With that the cloaked figures leap from the balconies and the second floor, sending the patrons funneling out of the building in panic. Covering the child in his coat Corbiau leaps into the air dodging the cloaked onslaught and sending a flying kick to three unsuspecting guards on the balcony of the third level. He runs in high speed across the floor as bullets shimmering gold, pellet the marble floor but fade into dust.
"Don't let him escape!" Mammon seethes as he watches the maneuvers of the acrobatic man.
Running down a hallway and out of sight Corbiau breathes heavily, anxiously looking for any signs of harm on the child. Sure he's safe; he closes his eyes, the seal on his hand glowing brightly. Black feathers begin to trickle in a shroud covering Corbiau and the boy, smooth hands becoming sharp, shining talons and wings unfurling gracefully from the back. The now transformed man leaps off the balcony, flying in a haze of liquid shadow to the main hall, moving in high speed to the front entrance.
"Stop him!" Mammon yells angrily pointing to the large black raven bursting through the cloaked barricade of guards
"Noooo!" An angry Mammon yells at the bird that shoots skillfully into the air and out of sight...
Home
Corbiau flies through the cover of mist and clouds in the sky, keeping senses alert in case of an aerial attack. Holding the boy close and warm among his feathers he heightens his senses and listens to the little one's heart rate, blood flow, lung contractions...A sigh of relief escaping him.
Eventually the deep green forest comes into view under the darkening sky and the black daunting mansion in the folds. Not landing to enter the front door Corbiau fly's straight at the side wall of the building, a pentagram glowing bright at his approach...Holding a taloned hand out bearing the seal he flies through the expanding symbol on the wall, entering the mansion silently.
Now inside he stands in the warm quiet of his home, inspecting his study. The bright room smells of wood, ink and old books, with ornate plush carpets spread near the sitting areas and at his dark wood desk. Corbiau walks calmly to a futon chair in red satin and gold, laying the child gently down and covering him with a black silk coverlet laying over an adjacent brown recliner. From there he leaves the room quietly, returning minute's later shirtless and barefoot, raven locks pulled back. He looks over the child again who sleeps deeply with shallow breaths.
He frowns at this and gingerly removes the cover, inspecting his form. Removing the tattered clothes Corbiau lifts the boy gently in the cover, leaving his study. Walking down a long carpeted hall Corbiau looks at the dark red walls and at the portraits of people framed in brass that line them on both sides with names below.
At the end of the hall a singular wall with a gold bordered portrait stands out beautifully with a vase of white roses, an eye patch and a blue jeweled ring sitting on a polished wooden drawer beneath it. The portrait is of the pale child unconscious in his arms and Corbiau stops and stands a moment, looking at the noble child in striking blue, both eyes looking powerfully at the world. A small smile softens his features as he looks from the portrait to the boy in his arms.
He pulls a small clothe from the drawer, wiping the plaque at the bottom until the name glistens softly...
"It's been a while...Ciel."
