Author's Note: last instalment of the At Leisure story arc. I have another arc planned and am merely awaiting further positive feedback for this effort to begin writing the next. Since this is the end of this story, please give your final reviews and summations of the plot with your opinions on whether Ciel's relationship with Clarence and the changes it has brought about in him are still in keeping with the character and have not strayed off-course. Please enjoy.
Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 13
"By all the saints…" Harry Brayton murmured upon seeing the open chest filled to the brim with gold sovereigns and jewellery now sat in the middle of his pub. The two boys who had presented the find to him were both dirty and bloody, but smiling for obvious reasons. The pub owner tentatively reached forward and touched the treasure to confirm its reality. He nodded in agreement with what the two had said prior to unveiling this hoard. "You're right lads: this is the most bloody amazing find I've ever seen turn up in this village. Well done to the both of you. Fifty-fifty split is it?"
"I don't need any more wealth." Ciel said dismissively, "It all belongs to Clarence and whomever he wishes to share it with." Harry could not help but raise his eyebrows at this selfless gift. With the amount of gold in that chest, a person could buy themselves a small county or an entire town. He regarded the Cornish boy and was astonished by the lack of greed in his eyes. When the blond scooped two handfuls of the treasure from the chest and then presented it to him, Harry Brayton finally found himself properly lost for words.
"This is for you, Harry. Mum and me owe you a lot." Clarence said to make it impossible for the man to convince himself the gold was intended for someone more deserving. He swallowed hard but barely gave the gift itself a second glance. The boy's green eyes had him transfixed. All he could see was sincerity and warmth in them, a combination that was a little overwhelming for an old cynic like him to drink in all at once.
"I didn't do anything special for you folk. I think you and your mum should keep it and go on to better things than this dump and an old git like me. I'd bear you no grudges whatsoever. Honestly, I reckon…"
"You don't get to say 'no', Harry." Ciel said whilst indicating the crestfallen expression beginning to spread across the younger boy's face. "Let him give you it. It's all he wants." Harry rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat.
"Fine. Come put it behind the bar, lad." The man watched as his barboy gleefully scampered behind the solid oak bar and dropped the treasure to the floor with hell of a racket. When Clarence's next actions involved latching himself around Harry's waist and trying to squeeze the life out of him, the man was startled. He had been hugged like this before, by Clarence and his lovely mum before, but had never felt like this. Instead of his usual desire to tell them as nicely as possible to sod off or get thumped, Harry felt genuinely touched by the gesture. It was startling because he had not been touched by this sort of thing since his own son had hugged him, before all the unpleasantness. He ruffled the boy's hair and nodded. "You need a bloody good scrubbing, Clare-Clare." He said looking at the dust and dirt coating his hand, "Treasure or no treasure, your mum would have a right fit if she saw you looking like a mud monster. You too, little earl of the realm. Come upstairs and I'll sort you out."
"Perhaps you should take a break." Ciel said to their companion who knelt by the side of the tin bathtub and continued to scrub Clarence's hair with soap. When Sebastian had excused himself to attend to matters at the cottage, the older boy had thought no man would be capable of lifting the chest with the demon's ease. But Harry Brayton had not only lifted the chest but manhandled it up the backstairs and into his private rooms above the pub. A sensible precaution though it was, Ciel could not shake the feeling the exercise had done more harm than good. The man had winced pouring the bathwater, clutched his lower back whilst checking the temperature and then pulled a variety of comical expressions in standing up and getting back down. The man dismissed the suggestion with a strong hand gesture.
"It'll be your turn soon enough, little Lord Fauntleroy so mind yourself."
"I don't think that will be necessary." The older boy replied as he sat in the armchair by the fireplace. He would have excused himself whilst Clarence was bathed but was begged by the blond to stay and keep him company. It appeared he despised baths, a surprising revelation when considering how clean and well-kempt he always was.
"His mum is a humble woman, Ciel, but she hates dirty people. She scrubs him every other night herself after shift and never goes to bed without a wash. She once wouldn't shake my hand because I had a little speck of dirt on my little finger. Looking as you do, she wouldn't let you in her house. I wouldn't blame her either: you look like you've had a scrap with a Welshman down a mineshaft." Harry explained whilst rinsing the soap out Clarence's hair. He ran his fingers across the boy's scalp a few times before nodding. "Pristine again, lad. You can hop out now, towel's on bed." He crooked a finger at his other guest. "No standing on ceremony, lad. Kit off and in the bath."
"I would rather my butler attends to my hygiene requirements, if you don't…" Ciel was interrupted by a thick-fingered hand snatching his wrist and yanking him over to the bathtub. Harry shook his head.
"He's not coming back for a while. You can have a go washing yourself, but I reckon you'd miss loads if you did. If you're going to meet Clare-Clare's mum, you need to be spotless. One dab of dirt behind an ear and you're finished."
"I understand, Harry, but I'm really not comfortable with undressing in front of a stranger or having them touch me like that." Ciel countered only for Clarence to frown at him in confusion. The Cornish youth was still sat on the bed with only a towel to spare his blushes.
"Harry's a friend, Ciel, not a stranger. I know maybe adults haven't treated you nicely in the past, but you can trust him. Are you worried about him seeing your Willy? We've all got one you know: it's nothing new." Clarence assured him. Ciel had never heard that colloquialism, but knew what his companion was driving at. He shook his head.
"It wasn't that. I have…a scar on my back I'm not keen on anybody seeing."
"We've all got scars, lad. A boy like you has nothing to be ashamed of, I promise you." Harry said in a tone that oddly put the older boy at ease with the situation. It was becoming increasingly obvious that his social standing, upbringing and general demeanour meant very little to these people. To them he was not really an earl, just a boy and they were not deliberately belittling him by taking this attitude either. They did not care about exploiting his frailties or savaging his reputation. Every remark that could be hurtful was said in jest and even when it was not, everything was assumed to be a joke, not a barb.
Ciel reluctantly parted with his clothes and dressed into the bathtub. As a pub landlord began lathering up his hair with soap whilst a Cornish boy in nothing but a towel watched on and began to regale said landlord with a fabricated tale of how they acquired the treasure chest, the Earl Phantomhive allowed himself to smile. It was first and foremost for the absurdity of it all, the sheer lunacy that his week in Bartleby-on-Sea had thus far produced. However, he encountered strangeness on such a regular basis that this was nothing new: if he did not smile at the insanity of his life he would likely be crushed flat by its momentum. What was different was how much he was enjoying his holiday. He did not mind sitting in a tin bath with an audience when it was Clarence and Harry Brayton in attendance, just as he bore no ill-will towards Eileen Daughtry and her defamation against his character because of her cakes. He could even admire Father Gloyn for how staunch he was in his convictions about eternal damnation. Common people were nothing if not sincere. He also liked their total lack of fear when confronted with the unknown. He looked up at Harry.
"Would like to see something strange?" He asked the man as he was preparing to rinse the soap away. Harry was nonplussed.
"If you feel you must. As long as it's nothing rude, lad. Those sorts of things are grown-ups only, understand?"
Ciel nodded and then reached behind his head. A moment later, his eyepatch was on the floor and his pentagram clearly visible to both his companions. The pub owner's reaction was one of disbelief. He gently tilted the older boy's face into better light and scrutinised the eye in visible astonishment. "What do you think?" Ciel asked after a minute mired in silence.
"I think there must be a hell of a story behind something like that. It's not glass, is it? That's your actual eye."
"It's pretty." Clarence said having wrapped the towel around his shoulders and joined Harry at the side of the bathtub to marvel at the spectacle. Harry nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but in a manly way of course."
The matter was dropped shortly after without Ciel having to supply an explanation. Harry merely advised him not to go showing it off around the village. The older boy was amazed at the man's lack of horror and revulsion, but had somehow expected such a subdued reaction too. People were very understanding here after all. Following his bath, Ciel was given some of Clarence's spare clothes to wear and found they fit quite well if one rolled up the sleeves to the elbow and pulled the shorts down somewhat. The blond boy dressed in clothes his companion had heard of but never seen. Instead of a shirt, Clarence wore a round-necked short-sleeved shirt, a garment Ciel understood to be called a 'T-shirt' in relation to its shape. And instead of shorts or trousers with suspenders, the youth wore dungarees, a tough denim-like set of overalls made from the Indian dungaree fabric that Ciel knew was quite popular in the United States for country-dwellers.
"Thank you for doing this." Clarence said as the pair walked across the village to the blond boy's home. "Are you sure I can just have all this money?" He asked whilst tilting his head back to indicate the knapsack stuffed with gold sovereigns slung over his shoulder. Ciel smiled.
"A treasure hunt should always end with treasure. Since the Malx was unwilling to part with its hoard, it's only fair you have something to show for all your efforts."
"Our efforts, Ciel. I wouldn't have gone half as far without you here. Are you excited to meet my mum?"
"Of course. Does she know who I am as well?" The older boy replied before they passed the churchyard on their left. Clarence shrugged.
"Everyone knows who you are by now. The village has been gossiping about you for the last two days." Clarence said before appearing to consider something. "You were very brave to show Harry your eye like that. How did you know he wouldn't get everyone to chase you out of town?"
"He's too world-weary to be afraid of something like a contract seal in someone's eye. And you were right."
"Hmm?"
"I can trust him."
"I kind of guessed that much."
"When I showed him my eye?"
"No, when you said he could watch the 'treasure' for us while we went to my house."
They arrived outside a small, stone cottage on the fringes of the village. In the distance, Ciel could see a flourmill atop of a rolling green hill with a dirt path meandering its way up the gradient. He supposed that was where Clarence's mother worked during the day. It seemed hospitable enough.
"Will your mother not be at work? It's only the early afternoon." Ciel asked as the Cornish youth unlocked the door.
"Harry got word to her. She'll practically run over here since it involves me getting rich."
"Surely she's not that shallow."
"Of course not! But I'm her only son and we've never had much money between us. She gives most of her wage for my books and toys. She never lets herself have anything if it means me going without something. And after all the others…" Clarence trailed off as they entered the cottage and stepped into a bare hallway that branched off into four rooms with two wooden doors on either side. Ciel frowned.
"Others? Did your mother have other children before you?" The older boy said a little tentatively as he was led into the room on the far right. The blond boy sat on the bed inside, slung the knapsack on the mattress and puffed out his cheeks.
"Yeah…she had four children before she had me. None of them survived over a year and two of them were dead when they were born. Three girls and a boy. I never knew any of them. My dad left her after my brother died. A few weeks later, she found out she was pregnant with me. She tried to contact him, but he's never come back. I think he went to Ireland…or maybe even New York. She was never sure." Ciel had heard that rural life was harsh and unforgiving, particularly where childrearing was concerned, but not out and outright cruel. He could not imagine how a single mother with that kind of personal heartache and loss could find the strength to try and raise yet another child, let alone one as sunny and kind as Clarence. He did not want to either.
"Did your siblings die of illness? Scarlet fever and the like?"
"Pneumonia and smallpox." The younger boy responded without much difficulty. Ciel joined him on the bed.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Mum had to go through that and then live it all over again when I was old enough to ask about it. I think it was her faith in God that helped her move forward. She's got very strong faith my mum." Clarence offered with visible admiration and pride. His companion was not convinced faith alone had saved his mother from utter despair.
"You must've helped her."
"Not when I was a baby. I got sick all the time. The only difference between me and my brother and sisters is that I survived everything. Then when I turned three, I never got ill again. She says I'm like my dad, strong as an ox and healthy as a horse. She thinks I've got more of him in me than her and that's why I'm still here. God gave me my dad's strength and stubbornness to die. I'm grateful to him for that." The blond answered before breaking out into a smile and standing up. "Anyway, this is my room!" He extended his arms out to the sides and pirouetted in a small circle to show off the space, "Isn't it great?" Ciel looked at the two tall and heavy-looking bookcases beside the doorway and marvelled at how much the shelves were sagging. Clarence easily had the largest and heftiest book collection the older boy had ever seen for an eleven-year-old. The manor had an entire library of course, but that was inherited instead of self-made and was the product of more than a century of acquisition. This collection, some two or three hundred books had presumably only been gathered after Clarence had learned to read. That meant five or six years at the most. He cast his eyes elsewhere.
The Cornish youth had plenty of toys, many of which looked to have been carved by hand. Many of the carvings were of barnyard animals such as sheep and cows and had been appropriately painted. A diorama of a farm had been set-up on a set of Chester drawers with the animals grouped into pens alongside a miniature barn and farmhouse. Ciel also noticed his friend's room was not only wallpapered, unlike the rest of the cottage, but also carpeted. He knew such a thing was a luxury in this part of the country, especially amongst day labourers. He reached down and brushed it with his fingertips. It was remarkably soft. The window behind the drawers looked out onto the expansive nature of the ocean. Outside the sea was sanguine and islands were clearly visible on the horizon. It was little wonder Clarence liked to explore with such a tantalising view to wake to. The older boy nodded in agreement.
"It's wonderful. Did you carve those animals yourself?"
"I carved the pigs last year. Before that, Johnny would carve one for me every time he came ashore. He painted them himself and taught me to do the same. I think I got the first one before I could even speak English, maybe three-and-a-half. 'Thank you Mr Daughtry' was the first thing I learned to say in English but I came unstuck on his last name. He was always bringing me gifts. My dungarees and this T-shirt are presents from his trip to North America this spring." Clarence said with palpable sadness. The incident in the cemetery suddenly seemed so much worse with his new information. Risking Clarence's life with the Malx considering his mother's misfortune also made Ciel inwardly feel monstrous. He was also growing increasingly amazed at his companion's mastery of English. He knew his own fluency in French was an impressive feat, but he had tutors and privilege to ease the strain. Clarence had nothing but his own desire and mother's encouragement.
"I'm sorry about Johnny. I wish I had friendships that strong."
"Well you've got me and Sebastian."
"That demon is not my friend. But thank you for thinking ours is a strong friendship." Ciel opened his mouth to say more on the subject but was interrupted by a rush of feet from the hallway.
"Clemo? Are you here? Clemo?" A woman's fretful voice inquired from the hall.
"In here, Mum. We've got a guest."
A few moments later, a dark-haired plain-looking woman in her early thirties rounded the doorframe. Green eyes regarded the pair of them furtively before her pensive features relaxed. She walked in and hugged the blond boy. "Thank the Lord you're safe. I was so worried this morning I could barely work at all." She said letting him go. Her gaze drifted to Ciel and the newly stitched cut on his cheek in particular. "This is the earl everybody's been nattering about? Father Gloyn said he was a wicked bugger, but I don't see any of that in his face. I told him you wouldn't traipse about with the devil, Clemo, but he wouldn't believe me, said demons were in his company too. Bollocks is what I say to that rubbish." The woman said firmly before inclining her head. "I'm very happy to meet you, Earl Phantomhive. Am I supposed to curtsey or is that too much?" Ciel found being addressed by his actual title very strange after five days of informalities. He smiled genially.
"I would prefer you do nothing so ridiculous, Mrs Gwinnel. And please, call me Ciel: everybody else in this village does."
"It's Miss Gwinnel, Ciel. He might not have filed for divorce, but it'd be wrong to give him any credit for the lad I've raised. And if someone of your kind is going to sack off all the airy fairy stuff, it's only fair you call me Gwen. So, Harry's raving about you solving Bill Thomas' treasure hunt. He says you've got a big chest of riches like in that Treasure Island book you were reading me the other night. Is it true Clemo?"
"Yes, Mum." Miss Gwinnel stared at her son hard. Ciel got the distinct impression she was not easily deceived, especially when it came to her own child. She narrowed her eyes and the older boy felt Clarence shift his weight on the bed. He suspected she could be a very tough parent if necessary. It likely explained why the Cornish youth's manners and respectful attitude to adults was so refined at eleven when it usually took years longer to instil such things.
"Tell me the truth, Clemo or I'm going to have to get the switch. It might have been four years since I needed it, but God so help me…"
"Ciel gave it to me, Mum." Clarence said quickly. Gwen Gwinnel nodded in satisfaction.
"And why would he do something like that?"
"Because we didn't find any treasure on the island."
"What did you find, lad?"
"We found a malevolent demon, Gwen. And it tried to kill us all. Clarence and I managed to stop it but we came back empty-handed. We were concerned that others might fall foul of its trap so we thought…" Ciel explained when it became clear Clarence was struggling to articulate an answer. Gwen folded her arms and sighed.
"You thought pretending to have found Bill Thomas' treasure trove would stop people from going to the island and dying. Is that about the size of it?"
"You think it's nonsense, I take it?" The older boy said.
"I know I'm not a little girl anymore. And even though it sounds daft, I can tell it's the truth. Firstly, you could think up a better story than that in less than a few seconds and secondly, both you and Clemo can look me straight in the eye when saying that tripe. How'd the two of escape it?" The woman said with remarkable perception. Ciel could see where a lot of his friend's good traits came from now the source stood in front of him.
"His butler rescued us." Clarence answered. His mother nodded, again seemingly satisfied it was the truth.
"And how'd he manage that?"
"He's a demon too."
"Because?"
"I have a contract with him. I'll give him my soul in exchange for revenge on those who killed my family." Ciel replied with audible reluctance to volunteer such delicate information. Gwen looked horrified by this revelation.
"How old are you?"
"I'm thirteen."
"You poor thing."
"Don't feel sorry for me. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to the terms. I have no regrets. I just hope you will keep such a thing a secret." Ciel said when her face softened. There was no need for pity of any sort, not from a woman like her. It was done and that was that.
"So your gift is a bribe to keep us quiet?" Gwen asked in a disappointed tone. Ciel was quick to correct her.
"No. It is to stop anyone else being killed by that thing on the island. I just feel you should be the ones to distribute it as you see fit."
"We don't need your charity, Ciel."
"And I don't need you to stand on ceremony, Gwen. You know what kind of son you have raised and how much happiness his presence in this village has brought. You've given up so much to give him everything he could want. I'm sure if the villagers were able, they would reward you for bringing such a wonderful person into their lives, Eileen Daughtry and Harry Brayton especially I should think. I am not one for grand gestures. I just want you to accept my gift since it is barely a fraction of the wealth you and Clarence are owed." Gwen Gwinnel was incredulous.
"Is your tongue made of solid silver or something? That was one of the prettiest speeches I've ever heard outside of church. But if we accept the money, we can't be lording it over everybody or making fools of ourselves Clemo. If we take it, we give it to everyone. It's only fair everybody gets a piece of this gift. You understand that now, don't you?"
"Yes, Mum."
"You're a good boy, Clemo." Gwen said patting him affectionately on the head. She looked at Ciel. "Are you going to stay for dinner?"
"I don't want to impose."
"Nonsense. If you're going to give us all this money, the least we can do is give you a hot meal. Did Harry give you both a good wash?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Good. Now then, I…"
They were interrupted by two knocks on the front door. Ciel knew already that it was Sebastian. "Please allow me." The older boy said rising to his feet and walking to the door. He opened it and found the demon carrying the chest at waist-height without a hint of strain at the effort. The butler smiled and inclined his head.
"Young Master. I have brought the chest from Mr. Brayton with his compliments. Where would you like it placed?" Ciel rolled his eyes.
"Come inside and stop making a spectacle of yourself."
Ciel directed his servant to the living room on the left and ordered him to put the chest down in the centre of the bare floor. Clarence and his mother entered the room just as Sebastian placed it down. The demon smiled politely at Gwen whilst rearing up to his full height. It was now clear that the cottage did not cater to persons over six feet tall when the butler's head brushed the roof beams.
"Good afternoon, Madam. I am…"
"Ciel's pet demon?" The woman said scathingly to prompt a brief raise of the demon's eyebrows.
"That is one way of explaining my function. I am Sebastian Michaelis. Would you prefer I leave?"
"Unless he wants you to stay." Gwen said indicating Ciel to the demon's left. Sebastian's red eyes fell on his master.
"Your orders, Sir?"
"Have you taken care of the others at the cottage? Tidied the residence? Prepared dinner?"
"Of course, Master. What other work shall I undertake in your absence?"
"Take the night off. Do whatever you wish until tomorrow. Do not disturb me until I call for you. Understood?" Sebastian bowed low.
"Yes, My Lord. Enjoy your day."
Ciel could not recall ever experiencing what would pass for a normal dinner. His meals were always banquets, parties and ceremonial feasts. They did not exist on the quality of company or conversation but on the opulence of the décor and the strength of the guest list. The food could be made of cardboard and still, if there were enough silver candlesticks the whole spectacle would be deemed a triumph in the eyes of the gentry. Ciel loathed such occasions but had learned to tolerate them for the sake of his reputation. Here, in this Cornish cottage, Ciel had no reputation to maintain. He had no obligations to be polite or civil. There was no pressure from above or below to coerce him into playing sides for Queen, Crown or Country. It was this very lack of expectation to conduct himself properly that made it all the easier to be nice to his hosts. The food was simple, without any of the frills or culinary touches that made Sebastian's meals so complex, and yet somehow all the more filling. They had tomato and onion soup with some crusty bread followed by a beef pie and country vegetables. However, where this dinner truly separated itself from every high society farce was the depth of conversation.
Superficialities concerning wealth and memberships be damned at this table. Both Clarence and his mother were happy to give their guest a crash course in Cornish language and customs. Ciel in turn brought them up to speed on the dining experience in France which both seemed to enjoy, even if Clarence already knew some of it. Gwen was no longer horrified or despairing of the older boy's Faustian contract with a demon, nor was she overly keen for gathering finer details regarding the Malx on the island. She just wished to be a good host, a desire that was clear as soon as she burst into song after clearing away the pie leftovers. Despite her illiteracy, Clarence's mother proved herself well-versed in poetry, literature and song. She regaled Ciel with two verses of an Irish jig before her son joined her in seamless unison. Eventually, after much prodding during the bread and butter pudding, Ciel joined them in a rendition of the chorus. He found it surprisingly liberating. After dinner, Clarence walked with him to the opposite end of the village.
"Kows orthiv yn Kernewek." Clarence said as they passed Harry's pub. Ciel knew it meant his companion wanted him to show off what little he had learned during dinner. The older boy sighed tiredly before launching into what he could remember.
"Ow hanow yw Ciel. Trigys ov yn London. Falta genes?" Ciel said, pleased he had managed to say his name and where he was from before asking how his friend was. The Cornish youth clapped him on the back.
"Yn poynt da, meur ras. Very good pronunciation!"
"Meur ras. Parlez en Francais." The older boy replied, now expecting a similar effort from the blond in return. Clarence smiled sheepishly before reciting what had been stressed.
"Je suis Clarence. J'habite a Cornwall. Ciel Phantomhive est mon ami. Alors? Have I got it?" Ciel could admit to being impressed with his efforts. He nodded in approval.
"You trill your Rs very well. I'd give you a good mark."
"Thanks. Mum really liked you in the end you know."
"Did she?"
"Yeah. You've kind of got your own effect on the people we meet. They all end up liking you in the end. It's better than never, right?" The Cornish youth said as they reached the edge of the village and their usual parting spot. Ciel nodded.
"Most definitely. So you're going to share the money around the village like your mother wants?"
"She knows best. I'd pretty much trust anything her and Harry tell me. If she thinks it's best to share the wealth, I do too." Clarence offered without a trace of confliction over an incredibly charitable act. In some ways the older boy envied his companion's humble view of the world. The whole situation must have seemed so simple to him, so wonderfully clear. London was never anything but black. Ciel nodded.
"You're very lucky to have such strong role models in your life. Did she really take a birch switch to you when you were younger?"
"Stuff like that is normal out here. In cities I think they use a cane, but it does the same job. Have you ever been disciplined like that?" Clarence asked. There was only one person or creature that had ever disciplined him in the name of education. Even here, the demon's influence was inescapable.
"Sebastian used to cane my hand when I was particularly poor in my studies. I don't receive such treatment anymore."
"Because you never muck it up anymore, right?" The blond said with a knowing grin Ciel could share. It made him feel almost normal to answer, and strangely proud as well.
"Yes."
"Me too. Four years since my mum whipped me for lying, almost two since Harry rapped me for dropping trays. Did your other tutors cane you or just him?"
"No-one else would dare cane a Phantomhive."
"Does he literally do everything for you?"
"Everything within reason, of course."
"This kind of feels like goodbye." Clarence said shoving his hands into his pockets. "But it isn't, right? You're here for another couple of days?"
"I will need to depart early on Sunday in order to arrive back by nightfall, but yes, we have another day together. I'm struggling to see how we can outshine what we've already accomplished, but we can certainly try." The older boy replied only for his friend to giggle and shake his head.
"No more crazy stuff this week or Mum will never let me out ever again! How about we just have fun tomorrow? We can swim, fish and play games all day long. You could probably use an actual holiday instead of what we've just done." Ciel sighed at the promise of a 'true' holiday. During the past week he had come to an unsettling conclusion about what his mind deemed relaxing compared with what was considered relaxing.
"Unfortunately, I believe this is what I constitute as being a holiday. I already feel oddly refreshed by it all. I imagine I owe that to you and your supporting cast."
"That's a theatre term, right? Something to do with plays and actors and things?" Clarence checked after a moment of thought. Ciel shrugged.
"Let's just call them your friends and family."
"My supporting cast."
"Exactly. Tomorrow will be fun."
"Of course it will. We've already won."
Ciel arrived back at the cottage before dusk. His servants were in the living room, playing board games. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. The boy did not really care. He joined them in a few games of Ludo, but left when it became clear he was either too proficient at strategy or they were allowing him to win because he was their employer. He retired to his room to read. An hour into his first edition of Charles Dickens' Bleak House, there was an unmistakable pair of knocks on his door. He told his caller to enter without looking up from the text.
"Forgive my intrusion, Young Master. I was just ensuring you were contented for the evening. Do you require anything?" Sebastian's voice asked from the doorway.
"No. I am both fed and bathed so your presence is nothing but a nuisance. Get out and do not return until the morning." Ciel said turning the page.
"Certainly, Sir. Good night." The boy heard the demon move to shut the door.
"Do you remember caning me for poor Latin translation?" Ciel asked a moment before the butler was closed out of the room. He heard the door stop in place.
"I recall every moment of my existence, Master. What of it?"
"Have you ever inflicted such punishment on previous masters?"
"No. I have never had a child for a master before."
"Do you think it has benefitted me?"
"You are the perfect gentleman. I have no doubt that would not be a reality if I had not exercised discipline, just as my skills as a head butler would be blunt if not for your constant criticism. Our relationship is symbiotic and all the better for it." Ciel's eyes ventured upwards until they found those of Sebastian who stood smiling blankly at him.
"I got bathed by a public house's landlord this afternoon."
"Mr Brayton did a fine job."
"I showed him my contract seal."
"Do I need to attend to the matter?"
"No. He is very discreet."
"That is gratifying. I am very fond of the humans in this village. They are most…stimulating. Is that all, Young Master?"
"What did you do with your afternoon?" The boy asked placing his book to one side and sitting up from his reclined position.
"I gathered your clothes from Mr Brayton, washed and mended them until fit to be worn by a gentleman of your status and then attended to other matters. I prepared food for tomorrow and the return journey to London. The horses were tended to, the carriage checked for serviceability…"
"All that might take an average servant a whole afternoon and perhaps a full night, but you would have completed all those tasks within an hour. What did you do after?" Ciel interrupted in a strict tone. He wanted no more trouble. Sebastian was liable to cause some if granted too long a rope. The demon's smile did not change in answering.
"I took a stroll along the coast, Young Master. The ocean and I are the oldest of companions since it is the only thing comparable to myself in age. I thought we might get reacquainted during the walk."
"And did you?" The boy inquired whilst gesturing for his butler to stop lurking in the doorway and actually enter the room to speak to him. Sebastian complied without fuss.
"In a way. Aeons have passed since its birth and still it keeps its secrets well hidden: alas I can no longer say the same. I think it would be fair to say our stay here has robbed me of my secrets whilst liberating you of yours." The demon remarked drawing up alongside the bed. There was no trace of anger at this analogy. Sebastian evidently did not care if his true nature was known or by whom. Ciel privately wished he could embrace such an attitude instead of just assuming it for his public image. He supposed to truly have a devil may care approach to life, one would have to be a demon to begin with.
"I do feel liberated. And very relaxed. I wish to thank you for persuading me to come back to Penzance instead of to Oxford for my holiday. And also for all your other efforts this week to ensure I find and keep a friendship. I doubt there are any other butlers who would goad me into these matters with your persistence." Ciel admitted with the thinnest of smiles. It was always painful to admit a soul-eating creature had greater knowledge of his mind than he did himself, but even this was something Ciel was comfortable saying aloud this week. Sebastian reacted to this by closing his eyes and returning a shake of the head in disapproval.
"You should not say such things to a butler, Master. It gives the impression you consider them more than a mere servant. Such an attitude is improper for a nobleman of your standing." Ciel rolled his eyes, tired of the rhetoric speeches and their frequency.
"Save that tripe for London. Compliments are a rarity for you so I would simply accept it in good faith."
"Well then thank you for your kind words, Sir." Sebastian said with a low bow. The boy considered how much of a courtesy to extend his shadow in light of all that had transpired. He sighed.
"You might as well call me Ciel tonight. Everyone else has. Consider it a token of my appreciation."
"I am bound by the butler's code to not engage in such familiarities. It breeds contempt."
"I already hate you so pay it no mind. Do not make me order you to say my name. It will be an embarrassment for us both." Ciel said. The demon inclined his head in amicable submission.
"Very well. I must say your attitude this evening is unusually…bright, considering the trials of the day. I take you and Clarence will be enjoying one another's company tomorrow? Need I prepare anything specific for your leisurely activities?"
"No, I already have a happy ending to my time in Cornwall. The only thing I require of you is to maintain it. Do not allow any tragedy to ruin this victory for me. Understand?"
"Yes, my…Ciel."