Author's Note: Moving right along…
Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 7
"I've never seen a board game like this before." Clarence said as the two of them sat in Ciel's cottage in the living room. The older boy smiled.
"It's something of my own design. This is the prototype my company is considering for mass manufacture. I thought I might conduct a little market research with my target consumers." The blond youth smiled sheepishly. He pulled his eyes down, rocking one of the game's pieces, a silver Minotaur, with a single finger.
"Mum and I couldn't afford to buy something like this. We barely make enough between us to pay for my London magazines and schoolbooks." Clarence said with a sigh. Ciel knew he was still seeing Jonathan Daughtry's face. The older boy knew the answer to grief and trauma of this kind. Distractions offered the only escape. He indicated the board with open hands.
"Well if we play and if you like it, you may have the prototype to keep." Ciel said. His companion's green eyes flashed up to regard his, a look of disbelief clearly visible.
"Really?"
"After what happened earlier, it is the least I can do."
"And you're sure you want to play this? You don't want to try and teach me chess or something a little more…sophisticated?"
"Chess is not as sophisticated as you might think. Far from being a game of wit and intellect, it is more a test. It pits one ego against another, not for the joy of competition or spirit of sportsmanship but for vanity. The victor of such a battle is not necessarily the better player but the superior manipulator of his fellow man. This game here is a game of fun, not ego or intellect. It is superior to chess in that way and all the better for it."
"There are plenty of words there I don't understand, Ciel. But it seems to me that you think chess is evil." Clarence said with a smile as he picked up a silver king bearing a golden crown. "Is this who you want to be for the game? I think you and he hold yourselves the same way."
"And what way is that?"
Clarence smiled. "Regally." Ciel raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. There was no sarcasm or bitterness or contempt from the blond boy in giving such an answer. It was meant honestly. Clarence did think of him very highly. It was flattering. The older youth smiled back.
"That's a very descriptive word. Did you learn it recently?"
"Last night. Bill told me it when I went to visit. I said you were like a king in the way you carried yourself and he said that perhaps I could say you were regal. I like the way it sounds with a 'ly' on the end." The Cornish boy explained holding the king at eye-level and stroking his crown as if to ascertain its reality. Ciel watched him in fascination. He was distracted as intended, but needed to be kept in the present.
"Even after what I did this morning you still think I'm regal?"
"I do. But I also see you're human now as well."
"How's that?"
"You made a mistake showing me Johnny like that. You thought I was like you, but I'm not. Kings don't make mistakes. It's not that they're perfect and can't, but because they never admit when they're wrong. You did and you said sorry. You're a humble king. It makes you seem more regal than ever." Clarence said whilst holding the king out for him to take, "So the king is yours." Ciel shook his head before reaching out and wrapping his friend's fingers around the piece.
"He's not a king. He is the embodiment of wisdom. The Minotaur is the embodiment of strength. The man is the embodiment of humility. So, in this instance, you are the king. Because you are the wisest in this room. And I, having seen your wisdom first-hand, will be the man." The older boy said picking up the small silver man who sat on his knees. The blond boy looked at the king in his hand then at Ciel's man before looking at the boy himself.
"Nothing is as it seems in your game, is it?"
"No and that is the point. Shall we play?"
The game progressed affably, giving both of them fortune and disaster at different points. The aim of the game was as simple as it needed to be: to move your piece from A to B with the assistance of a pair of die and a selection of game squares that either helped or hindered progress. Clarence was clearly having fun and relishing the imagination of the game if his short cries of joy when the game's instructions struck a particular chord with him were anything to go by. Ciel was surprised to find he was having fun too. He put it down to the Cornish youth's enthusiasm and approval of his creation since he found the game's basic premise somewhat tedious. Although his initial premise involved a more intricate game of chance, Sebastian convinced him to simplify the concept to appeal to children. When Ciel pointed out it appealed to him and that he was a child, the demon had corrected him. You are not a child, Master. Your childhood ended many years ago. Your opinion cannot be trusted.
"It looks like I won." Clarence said as he pushed his piece into the final square after one last roll of the die. Ciel nodded.
"Yes. You played very well. Did you enjoy it?"
"Yep. It was nice of you to try and take my mind off Johnny. But now I really want to find his killer."
"I know. So let's start at the end of the chain and work our way back."
They returned to the churchyard immediately after and began scouring the area. They found baked footprints hidden in the overgrown grass between some of the older headstones. They displayed the same fishhook made patterns as those found at the murder site. They traced the footprints to a narrow gap in the stone wall that formed a perimeter to the church grounds. Beyond it, they were confronted with a maze of bushes and branches that stretched back into the distance.
"This is strange. The murderer entered the cemetery from this part of the wall. They had to be carrying the body since the impressions of the footsteps are so deep, but they stop in the overgrowth. The footprints don't lead to the burial site. It's like the murderer stopped and waited until the ground had dried before burying the body." Ciel remarked crouching over the set of footprints closest to the start of the shorter grass. Clarence frowned.
"Almost like the murderer was hurrying to bury the body, but then realised how much evidence he was leaving. After the rain on Thursday night, the ground was still wet until Friday afternoon. He's not going to sit here and wait for the ground to dry. He must've hid Johnny in the brush and come back later to bury him, probably at night." The Cornish youth postulated whilst turning his attentions to the growth behind the wall. "Maybe the murderer dropped something in the undergrowth. It wouldn't be difficult with all the branches." The boy added already manoeuvring through the gap in the wall. Ciel stood up and followed him into the bushes.
They picked up an erratic path of footprints in the brush, one that suggested the walker had great difficulty walking in a straight line as well as footprints that crossed over their brethren. "The murderer doubled back on himself." Ciel commented as they pursued the phantom killer to the edge of the bushes. "The footprints are shallower here, these ones over to the left. The murderer had already dropped off the body before he got this far." His companion nodded in agreement. Clarence gestured to the footprints that led into the bushes rather than away.
"Over there, to the left, where the growth is deepest. That looks like a likely hiding place."
When they arrived in the densest part of the wilderness, they found a large pile of dying leaves on dead tree branches that looked to have been cut by a knife. They also found footprints leading to and from the pile as well as many around the trees that shrouded the area in shade. "He hid the body under this self-made pile until the following day. He cut the branches himself to make the cover." Ciel said as they examined the trees surrounding the pile.
"He'd need a lot of branches to cover Johnny. He hasn't cut enough of them here to do it…" Clarence said whilst looking at the dozens of branches left untouched by human hands, "but he could have. So why didn't he and where did the other branches come from?" Ciel moved from the trees he was scrutinising back to the pile. He handled the top branches and frowned.
"They're from different trees. The trees here are elm trees. These top branches are oaks. They've been sourced from some another location not near here. The question is why? What significance do these oak trees have to either the victim or the murderer?"
"Check for knife marks on them." Clarence said whilst continuing to comb the area for clues. The older boy sighed.
"Why? We know they were cut when the tree was alive by the sap inside."
"No. Check for…I think the word is carvings. People around here like to carve things into tree branches. Does that make sense, Ciel?" The blond boy said turning to look at his friend for confirmation. Ciel returned his gaze and nodded.
"Yes, it does." They resumed their respective searches. It took Ciel only a few moments of turning the oak branches to yield a significant clue. On the largest specimen, a hefty thing easily a foot wide and possessing a thickness almost twice that, he found two sets of initials carved right into the bark:
J.D + J.B
"I've made a telling discovery." Ciel told his companion, tracing the carving with his finger.
"Me too." Clarence said drawing up alongside him. The older boy turned to find the blond with the broken hilt of a fishing knife in his hand. "His knife broke. That's why he stopped cutting branches. That's why he went to get more."
"And what do you make of this?"
"It's old. Very old. It's not romantic because there isn't a heart drawn around it. The plus means the two were best friends. First one has to be Johnny's initials. Second one belongs to whoever his best friend used to be." The blond said stooping down to trace the initials with his finger. Ciel was struck by a thought.
"Did he ever mention a friend whose name would fit these initials? Could this be the Brauttigan Harry was talking about in the pub the other day?" Clarence was quick to shake his head.
"Nope. Johnny's best friend was Cornish. He kept telling me so whenever he talked about his schooldays. I think his name might've been Jonathan as well. That's why they became friends, he said, because they had the same first name."
"Still, to take such a clearly-marked branch and use it to conceal a body when there are other branches available without such blatant evidence is strange."
"Yeah, but that's not all. Have you seen the size of this thing? I don't think we could lift it between us and even a grown-up would find it hard to pick up and move on their own."
"Unless they were possessed of some prodigious strength. Or had an accomplice." Ciel mused. His attention was brought back to Clarence when the younger boy opted to sit down on the engraved branch and shrug his shoulders.
"Harry said that Brauttigan guy was a loner in the pub. And we know from Harry that he was the man Bill wrote the Cornish letter for. Plus, if he were a big guy, Harry would've said so. He likes things like that." The Cornish youth pointed out as his companion joined him in sitting on the enormous branch.
"We have a body. We have a crime scene. We have a motive. We have suspects. But we don't have a real theory."
"Maybe Johnny's mum could help us. She could at least tell us about his best friend in school and where this branch comes from. Mums always know things like that." Clarence said with a knowing smile. Ciel could not relate to the gesture. He found he had forgotten his mother's face in recent years, and her kindness. He put it down to his torture having washed all his pleasant memories out to the deeper recesses of his mind. Still, he understood why the blond had suggested they interview her. Mothers know their children best. Lizzie always said as much about the Marchioness. He offered a smile.
"Do they? That would prove a very useful development for our investigation. Would she be willing to speak to us?" The older boy asked. Clarence considered before sticking out his bottom lip and shrugging.
"I guess she'd be okay with that. We'll have to not tell her Johnny's dead though. She might drop dead of grief at losing her husband and her son in the space of a week."
"Shall we go then?" Ciel said already shifting his weight to get to his feet. He was stopped by Clarence's hand taking hold of his forearm. That marked the third time the younger boy had initiated physical contact with him. It was still alien, but Ciel understood how it could replace idle conversation immediately. It told him Clarence would not go further with their mystery today.
"It'll have to be tomorrow if you want me to come. It's almost one now and Harry will play merry hell if I don't appear on time. Sebastian's worked hard enough for me I think." The younger boy said as Ciel resumed his seat.
"Yes, of course. I had not realised time had gone so quickly since the morning."
"Well, we did go to your cottage and back. That was like five miles. And then the game took about an hour or so…" Clarence said before Ciel dismissed anymore listing with a hand gesture.
"Tempus fugit. It's Latin for 'time flies'." The older boy said with a smile whilst setting down the lunch box he had been carrying since the morning and prising off the lid. His friend smiled back.
"More pretty words, huh? We have a saying like that in Cornish: delatya an termyn. It means kill time." The blond boy said as he selected one of the almond croissants from the box.
"Sounds a little harsh. We haven't killed time by playing games." Ciel remarked offering out the jam pot and breadknife only for Clarence to laugh sweetly and shake his head.
"Killing time is still different from wasting it, Ciel. None of what we've done was a waste, but time dies out anyway. Killing it is almost a kindness if you think about it a certain way." The blond said, his green eyes looking directly into Ciel's even as he spread jam over his pastry. The older boy nodded in some measure of agreement.
"That's an interesting point."
"Like time being able to fly like a bird?" Clarence offered to suggest he found his own theory no more plausible than Latin philosophers' concepts of time whilst taking a bite of his croissant. Ciel, seeing the absurdity of having time soar above the clouds, smirked and nodded as he spread jam on his own croissant.
"Exactly so."
They returned to the pub shortly before one in the afternoon. The once heaving crowds had dispersed, leaving only a chosen few to lie slumped on the floors or over the table tops as testament to how much hard drinking and revelry was wrought on the establishment and Harry's nerves. Despite the evidence of carnage having taken place here in the men left behind, there were no shattered glasses on the floorboards nor puddles of congealed vomit to be found covering the chairs or carpets. In fact, aside from the slumbering drunks, there were no empty glasses yet to be collected or even a single barstool out of place. The two boys approached the bar and found Sebastian with his eyes closed and serenely cleaning a pint glasses with a linen cloth. When they were upon him, the demon casually opened his eyes and greeted them.
"Good afternoon, Young Master and your friend, Sunshine Incarnate. How has your morning been?"
"Didheurek. How was your morning, Mr. Butler? I hope Harry didn't work you too hard." Clarence asked hopping up on the barstool before looking around the room. "I've never seen the place this clean after the sailors come to piss all their wages up the wall. Did you do all this on your own?"
"Not all of it. It might surprise you, but your rowdy patrons were quite happy to clean up after themselves. All they needed was a little…persuasion." Sebastian replied whilst directing his last word and an unsettling smile in Ciel's direction when the blond was not watching. The older boy narrowed his eyes at his butler.
"That is quite a skill, Sebastian. I wished I would have known about it earlier, perhaps concerning all the times I had to perform for our honoured guests while hosting in order to gain their favour. Your 'persuasion' would have been very useful then." Ciel responded, trying to sound pleasant for Clarence's sake. Regardless, there was a sharpness in his voice that seemed to launch each word at the demon with an intent to stab deep into his flesh. He supposed he could not help being annoyed at yet another unknown talent being revealed. Clarence turned back to face them as Harry came through a side door. The barman was grinning widely.
"I'd offer to buy that butler off you, Ciel, but I reckon even if I had a million pounds of solid gold to give in exchange, I'd still fall short of his worth. He's a bloody miracle worker! No wonder they had him in St Ives for five years! They were sodding fools to get shut of him! I'd have begged him to stay if I were them, got down on me hands and knees and grovelled for him to keep behind the bar." Harry proclaimed whilst amiably slapping Sebastian on the back. The demon inclined his head.
"You are too kind, Mr. Brayton. I am merely a butler, nothing more."
"It's Harry, Sebastian and you are worth all the gold in El Dorado. Come back anytime if you ever tire of wiping your little lord's arse all the time. You'll always have a job here." Harry said before shifting his gaze to Ciel and winking. "No offence there, lad. It's just a country expression." The older boy managed a loose interpretation of a sporting smile as indignity simmered beneath.
"I can wipe my own arse, thank you, Harry. Clarence I'll see you tomorrow, when you're free to continue our enquiries. Let's go, Sebastian." Ciel said turning his back on them all and beginning his walk to the door.
"Yes, My Lord."
