Roughly, the Phantomhive found himself shoved into a room. His hands were bound by some mysterious cuffs that cannot be broken, even with his strength, and his butler was in a similar predicament as he stood next to him. That boy, Walter, and his wires were quite something. The lacerations on their skin haven't completely healed yet! It was just as the other boy had said. He was a monster-hunter, and he was able to fight them.

That said, they didn't fight for long, as Walter's superiors granted Ciel's request to see them upon hearing his name. It would appear that the Watchdog is still famous, even if only amongst this new "council" that the demon-hunting butler was talking about. Despite this, precautions were made. Both demons were searched and their hands were bound behind their backs as they were escorted by armed guards, including Walter, into the chamber where the council was meeting.

Ciel furrowed his brow in confusion at the sight. A Circular table with twelve men seated around it was in the center of the room. The table's middle was hollow, and there was section on the outside of it that opened up so one could get inside. One of the soldiers opened it and gestured for the two demons to enter, but the bluenette was too flabbergasted by the entire situation to really register it. Thus, he was shoved by Walter, who only laughed as the former Earl shot him a glare. It was then that the Phantomhive stepped forward, entering the circle with his butler in tow. Walter then stood at the side of another man—the one who could be assumed to be his master.

The man leaned in to listen to Walter as he whispered in his ear, only to nod and lean back to look at the two demons with his bemused face and emerald eyes. He was the most nonchalant one there, with his dirty blond hair slicked back without neatness and almost excited way of being as the two demons stood in front of him. He must be the head of this "Hellsing" family.

"Welcome, demons." He greeted. "Please excuse us for our rudeness, but we did need to set in place a few precautions, you know."

"Understandable." Answered the Phantomhive. "As long as things go well, they will be unnecessary."

As the bluenette looked around at the faces staring at him, the men in suits pulled back with distressed faces, all but two at that table. On was Hellsing. The other sat next to Hellsing—a stern man with blonde hair swept toward the right, who glared at the demons through his spectacles, only seeming angered by Ciel's arrogance. Yet the Phantomhive smirked at him, and the Hellsing smiled.

"As good humoured as the rumours say you are—HA!" laughed Hellsing, clapping his hands together. "We should introduce ourselves. We are known as 'The Convention of Twelve', or alternatively, 'The Round Table Conference'. We are her majesty's current shadow government, replacing The Evil Noblemen in your absence."

"Oh, so my reputation proceeds me?" questioned the bluenette.

"Of course, but it's mostly stories." The man answered. "But that's what history is, isn't it? Just stories. But don't fret, you are well-documented with the council, I assure you."

"Shouldn't we get on with the proceedings, Arthur?" questioned the man sitting next to him. "How do we even know that this is the real 'Ciel Phantomhive'?"

"Good question." Stated Hellsing. "But, I'm sure we can determine that with just a few of our own. Well, Mister Phantomhive, are you willing to cooperate?"

"Certainly." Baffled, the Phantomhive furrowed his brow at the man, uncertain of what was to happen next.

"Very well." Said the man. "First question: While you were in your prime, who was the head of Scotland Yard?"

"Sir Arthur Randall." Ciel answered, causing Hellsing to nod.

"Who was your fiancée?" he asked, causing the demon to scowl. Regardless, he answered, lowering his gaze slightly.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford." He missed the sight of Hellsing grinning at his answer.

"The name of your dog as a child?"

"Sebastian."

"Your butler?"

"As a child?"

"Sure."

"Tanaka." Answered Ciel. "Later, it would be Sebasitan Michaelis, my accomplice."

"When did you get Sebastian?" This question made the Phantomhive look up. He glared at Hellsing, his eyes launching daggers at his head, yet the man continued to smile.

"The month of February in the year 1896." Ciel stated. "After two months of captivity starting December the fourteenth of 1895, following the murder of the former Earl of Phantomhive, Vincent, and his wife, Rachel."

"And you made a contract with Michaelis?"

"Yes."

"Let's see it." Despite the bluenette's obvious anger, Ciel was left with no choice but to comply. Alas, there was an obstacle.

"My hands." The Phantomhive stated. "I can't reach my eyepatch."

"Not a problem." Said Hellsing. Looking up, he faced the fourteen-year-old butler. "Walter?"

"Right, then." The boy replied, flexing his hand. He swung his arm, sending his wires toward the head of the former Earl, and with another flick of his wrist, the patch was sliced off, leaving the bluenette wide-eyed as the object fell to the ground. The contract was exposed, flashing the council as they gawked at the sight of the purple pentagram. Only one person seemed thrilled about this as he leaned forward to get a better look and smiled widely, and that was Arthur Hellsing.

"So it is true!" he declared. "You are Earl Ciel Phantomhive!"

"How do you know about all of this?!" demanded the bluenette. "Not even her majesty knew!"

"We have our resources." Vaguely answered Hellsing. "What's important is that you are here. So, what can we do for you?"

The others looked at him confusedly at that question, and the bluenette wasn't any better off. This was a madman! What on earth was he after? How did he know what he did?! This man was dangerous.

"I want my home back." The Phantomhive answered, trying to withhold his seething anger and outrage in order to achieve his goal. He was willing to negotiate, but was not keen on discussing his past, here. Not now, not ever.

"That can be arranged." His opponent answered casually, leaning back as the rest of the council gasped at the suggestion. Even his butler looked displeased, but Arthur did not mind it.

"Arthur!" called the man next to him. "You're just going to let a demon take up residency here?! What about your job?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree, Arthur…" said the man to his left. A portly man with a mustache, he had been nervously fidgeting the entire time, unable to speak up.

"Islands, Penwood, let me finish." Said Hellsing, putting his hands together. "While it is a simple task to return the land, I'm not going to give it away without a price."

"You're not suggesting…"

"I am. It's not everyday a man of mister Phantomhive's experience and caliber just waltzes into our midst, so I am going to make full use of this incredible and almost unfathomable opportunity."

"So in other words, I'm going to have to earn it." Butted in the Phantomhive, earning a nod.

"Is that reasonable?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"You will be working for me." Arthur said. "With the H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. organization- Her Royal England Legions of Legitimate Supernatural and Immortal Night Guard. Naturally, that entails helping us win this war we're in, much like you did when you took out those planes and blimps."

Ciel paused, thinking for a moment. The hesitation caused his butler to glance at him, but he continued to ponder nonetheless. What would he do? He never planned on fighting. In fact, the entire reason he fled France was to avoid conflict with the Nazis. Now, he had no choice but to go back into the fray, but would he go through with it? Would he become the Queen's Guard Dog yet again and fight in the greatest war known to humanity thus far? Was this really alright?

Truthfully, he hadn't thought things through. He hadn't the slightest idea as to what he was going to do upon his return to England. Come to think of it, the Phantomhive was not satisfied with living peacefully. Even in peacetime, the days just lazily passed without anything occurring. There was nothing to capture his interest. The most exciting moments were evading danger from anti-supernatural organizations and dodging criminals. That thrill is what he lived for. It was what he looked forward to. It made life worth living.

Now, he had the opportunity to have that always. Even after the war, he was guaranteed work. He could have all of the adventure and excitement he could bear, and not only was it sustainable, it was legal. Immortality was boring thus far, so why not try to fix that?

"Master?" questioned the butler, snapping Ciel back to reality.

"What is your answer, mister Phantomhive?" asked Hellsing.

"I'll be happy to take care of you if you don't say anything." Taunted Walter, adjusting his gloves with a smirk. Then, the bluenette looked up.

"I accept." Ciel stated, surprising Sebastian and pleasing Arthur greatly.

"Excellent." Arthur said, flashing his teeth. "You will be permitted to stay at the Hellsing estate until things are put into place. That is, if the council agrees?" he trailed off, looking to his compatriots.

Around the room, men in suits looked to one another with unsure faces, whispering. Yet Phantomhive and Hellsing remained unaffected, instead choosing to stare one another down. Those emerald eyes of Arthur's looked familiar to the bluenette—like a filthy version of something that used to be pure.

"If he should disobey, you will take care of it, won't you Hellsing?" questioned one of the councilmen.

"Guaranteed." Arthur replied, not breaking eye contact with the former Earl. Those eyes of his looked just like the ones he heard about in stories told to him as a child. "I accept all responsibility for these two. Should they stray, they will be hunted down and exterminated, just like any other supernatural freak."

"Then I can be in favour of this."

"As am I."

The councilmen agreed, nodding their heads, but the Hellsing did not look away. His grin only widened as he leaned forward, causing the Phantomhive to scowl in return. Thus occurred one of the most important pieces of the history of Britain's underworld: The return of Ciel Phantomhive.