Greetings readers, old and new. As we embark on a third journey, this story presents new challenges. Namely that not one of these chapters have been written in advance. We'll be taking one step at a time together! That isn't to say I don't know what's going to happen in this story. I have a clear idea and I don't start writing something unless I plan on finishing it. And though there will be mention of heavy subject matter, my personal goal is to make this more light-hearted than "The Young Master, Narcissistic." As proud as I am of that story, it was very dark and definitely not for everyone. Anyway, enough of my jabbering. Happy reading! :)


"To My Sweet Boy,

It is my understanding, Ciel, that your last assignment has left you particularly shaken. But as always you never fail to prove your tenacity, and I am again reminded of your bravery and strength as passed on to you by your powerful lineage. I do hope your hiatus has redeemed your health and that besides all is well. I must, however, bring you back to attention. Three years ago, the son of the Baron of Bedford, the Honourable Jacob Mitchell, left England for America with his young bride following the path to a new career; or rather, his father cut off his allowance until he decided to be a man, and thus felt it most logical to run as far away from his parents as possible, as most children do. He has since purchased and renovated an old club and was doing more than reasonably well with it in terms of profit, but he has run into a spot of trouble as of late. Well, it is what you and I would call a spot of trouble. Others may refer to it as murder. There has been a total of five men found dead in their rented rooms, having died of asphyxiation. They were all men of hardy health and the alibis of the club's employees have come back clean each time. The owner of this business being an English royal, you can imagine how these unsettling deaths are reflecting on our extended family. You will be given further details by the New Orleans crime department. Remember your reputation precedes you. I have told them I am sending the best.

Sincerely,

Victoria."

Ciel reflected on the Queen's letter as he leaned against the noble ship's railing. The vessel gently bobbed atop the clear blue gulf, crystalline and twinkling as a gem. It was an early morning hour- which, Ciel was not aware, but the sun had just begun to peak its orange head over the horizon, colouring the sky with the grey of daybreak. Ciel unfastened the first button of his shirt. The cool of darkness had barely been washed away and yet it was already far too warm for his British blood. He had heard as much about the Caribbean humidity and was disheartened to discover that the stories were true. Just then there appeared a familiar figure by his side.

"Good morning, my Lord," Sebastian smiled in his usual fashion.

"Good morning," Ciel answered shortly.

"You're awake very early, I see," said the Butler.

"I was too hot to sleep," Ciel said, not attempting to hide his irritation. The gnats began to buzz about his face. One thought it funny to launch a suicide mission into his eyeball, and remained stubbornly stuck to the gooey ocular fluid no matter how aggressively, or delicately, Ciel attempted to pick it out. Noticing his struggle, Sebastian pulled Ciel's face towards him and removed the pesky little blighter with one dab of his thumb. He flicked it away and Ciel rubbed his eye again. "I don't even understand why She sent us all the way down here," Ciel complained. "What's the point?"

"Think of it as an adventure," Sebastian said. "New Orleans is an absolutely stunning city, especially the French Quarter. I think you will love it."

The Butler's good spirits only annoyed Ciel further. He ground his teeth and pressed on. "Do we know anything about this place or not?"

"I did do a bit of research before we set sail," Sebastian said, "but I think perhaps I will wait until your temper improves before I tell you anything."

"My temper is perfectly fine!" Ciel spat. Sebastian stared at him with raised eyebrows and his omnipresent smirk. "Just tell me," Ciel sighed heavily.

"Well, the good proprietor of this unlucky club has quite the reputation of being somewhat of a louse," Sebastian said. "Apparently he's up to his ear lobes in gambling debt and this 'young bride' is marriage number three. Rumour also has it that he's fathered two illegitimate children and has a total of ten with his previous wives. After several failed business attempts, including, but not limited to, a cigar shoppe and a poodle grooming service, he purchased this new club from its former caretaker, the building having once been an indigo plantation. He christened the business La Luxure Royale and prides it on being one of the sauciest clubs this side of the Mississippi, as the saying goes."

Ciel stared dumbly at Sebastian. "La Luxure Royale?"

"Yes."

"As in, The Royal Lust?"

"Your French is impeccable as always, my Lord. It may be useful in this city."

"What exactly makes this show so lusty?"

Sebastian shrugged. "The typical suspects, I should think. Can-can, burlesque, vaudeville. I have never seen it for myself so I cannot say for sure."

Ciel rested his head against his arms. He wasn't so sure that he had the nerves to witness another "saucy" show.

Sebastian noticed Ciel's hesitation and said gently, "You are not expected to be a part of this production, Young Master."

"Good," Ciel lifted his head, "because I might've had to give Her Majesty an I.O.U."

Sebastian chuckled and the two shared silence for a time. The port came into view and the dock workers were already toiling away, the perspiration shining like diamonds on their dark skin.

"What do you think of all this, Sebastian?" Ciel asked. "Why would Her Majesty send us so far away?"

Sebastian looked down at Ciel from the corner of his eyes. "Not every action has an ulterior motive, my Lord."

"Doesn't it though?"

"No," Sebastian answered. "Although this case may be more interesting than She lets on. She knows how much you love a challenge. Also, a change in scenery might be good for you." Ciel shrugged and Sebastian continued. "Besides, the proud name of the Crown is at stake and we are the best, to use Her words."

Ciel laughed under his breath and looked up at Sebastian through his eyelashes. "We?" he said.

"Would you disagree?" Sebastian asked.

Ciel rolled his shoulders and stood up straight. "I suppose not."

The ship pulled into port and the workers began shouting back and forth in a sing-song patois. They tossed ropes and crates to and fro. The waves sloshed around the barnacle covered legs of the platform as the ship came to a halt.

"Where to first, my Lord?" Sebastian asked.

Ciel scrunched up his face and said a bit tartly, "Our hotel, I should think. But after that, we'll visit the police station to comb through some records and possibly view the deceased for ourselves."

"Very good," said Sebastian. The crew rushed about to awaken the passengers, the solid boarding ladder was let down and the two left the ship and stepped foot into America.