That Butler, Wretched
I own nothing but my OC.
≤speech in Indian language≥
'thoughts'
"speech"
{setting/stage directions?}
SOUND EFFECTS
An entire sentence like this, without quotes, is narration for dreams or stuff like written letters.
=†=†=†=†= scene shift/time shift
—^—^—^— change of perspective/area of action within one specific time frame/location
Previously:
"Eh, he was ill in bed!?" Lizzie asked Soma during their game of cards, alarmed.
"Yes. That is why we made curry, so he could have something nutritious," Soma replied.
"Ciel! Why didn't you tell me!?" Lizzie asked, concerned, while Sebastian served her tea.
"Lady Elizabeth," Sebastian said, getting her attention. "Young Master was on an important mission and had no time to stand still," he informed her with a self-depreciating smile.
"I'm sure he didn't want to worry you," Chêne added gently.
"Sebastian… Chêne…" Lizzie said a little sadly. "… I would like to do everything I can for Ciel, but he won't tell me anything. What should I do?"
"That is a difficult question for us, the servants… but I am sure of one thing," Sebastian said, glancing at the young earl, who everyone now saw was fast asleep in his chair. "I have not seen Master look so relaxed for quite some time." Lizzie, Soma, and Agni smiled. "He… must have had a good holiday thanks to every one of you," Sebastian said with a small smile of his own.
"Sometimes, it's enough just to know that you're loved," Chêne said with a soft smile.
"I do hope so," Lizzie said, also smiling. "Good night, Ciel."
"—Well?" Ciel asked Soma, sitting across from him at one end of the dining table. "How much longer do you two plan on staying here at the manor?" It had been several weeks now.
"I'm staying just so I can spend the long-awaited winter holiday with you, so how could you say that!?" Soma huffed.
"Don't go making up your own holidays!" Ciel scolded him, turning the page of his newspaper. An article about the death of the president of a diamond trading company caught his attention.
"You see, today is the day that I shall beat you in chess!" Soma declared brightly.
"Forgive me, but I have to work today," Ciel said, not sounding very apologetic. "Come, Sebastian."
"Yes, Sir," Sebastian said, pulling the chair out for him as he stood up.
"But you said that yesterday too and only played one game with me!" Soma protested, pouting.
"Why don't you try improving your game by studying up on chess problems while I'm working?" Ciel suggested coolly. "You're too weak."
"Dammiiit, I'll get you!!" Soma shouted after Ciel as he left the room. "Agni, assist me with my special training!"
"≤Jo aagyaaa≥!!" Agni replied, ready to help his prince.
"..." Sebastian watched them while Ciel trudged on.
"To work, to work," the young earl muttered.
=†=†=†=†=†=
{Around afternoon teatime…}
"Geez! I should have had Mei-Rin help me with this!" Chêne said, quickly collecting the laundry hanging on the lines under the overcast sky. It definitely smelled like rain, so she had to get all the dry sheets and clothing inside quick! "Hmm?" she said when she thought she saw a flash of white out the corner of her eyes. "It couldn't be..."
—^—^—^—
"Haaah—" Mei-rin sighed deeply, staring up into the grey sky through the kitchen window. "The sky seems awful cloudy, it doooes!" She wondered if maybe she should go help Chêne bring the laundry in. "I hope the rain at least holds until the dry laundry is inside."
"Geez, the weather really is a mess in this country," Bard said while he peeled a potato. "Can't help gettin' all depressed when the sky's always this gloomy." Several lines appeared in the kitchen door to the outside.
BANG!
All at once, the door seemed to explode into the room in pieces. Bard jumped. He was so surprised, he nearly lost his cigarette.
"Pardon the intrusiiion!" A young man in white with white hair said brightly as he strolled into the kitchen with another young man dressed in white. "Is Earl Phantomhive at home?"
"Who wants to know?" Bard asked as he and Mei-Rin moved into defensive positions, ready to stamp out trouble at its source.
"Ohh~?" the first young man said, grinning slyly. "Are you two going to… play with me!?" he asked, drawing his sword and attacking with the speed of a professional hitman. It was all they could do to dodge.
"!?" Bard gasped, skidding to a stop. In the blink of an eye, the young man was right on top of him, preparing to swing his sword again at him. "He's fast—!"
BLAM!
The violent intruder jumped back away from Bard, dodging the spray of bullets Mei-Rin unleashed to save the chef. All the shelves of china that had been behind him before he moved were completely destroyed.
"Wooow!" he laughed when he looked at Mei-Rin again. She had her glasses pushed up on top of her head and a gun in each hand. "A two-handed shot! How very stylish of youuu!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Mei-Rin fired again, but he managed to dodge.
"But!" he said, dodging even more bullets as he ran straight at her, slicing straight through the barrels of her guns. Mei-Rin's eyes widened in shock. "I win at close combat." He spun around to attack her again. Smirking wickedly. "This is it!"
WOOSH.
Suddenly, Bard was coming up on the stranger from behind, wielding the knife he had been using on the potato. The young man in white felt the knife thrusting toward his neck. He quickly kicked off the ground with one foot and stomped on the maid's stomach with the other, using her as a springboard to throw himself high into the air to avoid Bard's deadly strike.
"Too bad for you!" he jeered with a grin as he flipped through the air, thrusting his blade at Bard's head. Bard's eyes were wide in alarm.
CLAAANG.
At the last second, Sebastian intervened by deflecting the blade with a three-tiered serving stand, which still held the leftovers from Ciel's tea, resulting in the only casualty being a cream puff, some of which ended up on Bard's stunned face. Bard's attacker landed gracefully on the floor with a light thump.
"May I present to you these custard cream puffs, made with plenty of traditionally-raised eggs produced on the Phantomhive estates?" Sebastian said smoothly, straightening up. "Please try one." The young man in white considered the cream puff on his blade. And decided to take a bite.
"Nnn, not bad," he said, while the other young man in white helped Mei-Rin up from the floor. "I suppose I can give it a passing mark? You made these, didn't you?"
"However did you know?" said Sebastian with a shit-eating grin.
"Chêne's handiwork is usually better than this," the first young man replied bluntly with a bright smile. Bard noticed Sebastian's own smile seemed to have become tense at the remark.
"Yes, my wife is rather talented. Thank you very much for saying so," Sebastian responded with an even brighter shit-eating grin.
"Hey, Sebastian! Who the hell are those guys!?" Bard asked, still covered in a nervous sweat.
"These two gentlemen are..." Sebastian began to explain.
"Oh, right, right! This is our first time meeting you!" the young man who had attacked them said, sheathing his blade. "I'm Charles Grey."
"I am Charles Phipps," the other young man spoke up.
"We are commonly known as the 'Double Charles'. We are Her Majesty the Queen's private secretarial officers, as well as her butlers," Grey explained. "Nice to meet you!" He removed an envelope from within his coat and held it up for them to see. It was sealed with the queen's seal. "And today…" he said, winking. "We're messengers who've come to deliver a letter to the earl!
—^—^—^—
Ciel looked down at the sealed envelope in his hand.
"—And so… per Her Majesty's urgent request, she would like you to hold a banquet in two weeks' time in honor of a particular visitor to England and treat him to the kindest hospitality," Phipps explained.
"Why me?" Ciel asked. "As I'm not acquainted with him, I find it hard to believe that your guest will derive much pleasure from being entertained by me."
"The gentleman in question is a certain German personage, who also happens to be a distant relative of Her Majesty's. He travels here in secret," Phipps replied. "It appears that he is interested in the industry of Great Britain—the factory of the world—as well as in popular literature, and wishes to discourse with those who have profound knowledge in such matters. Your Funtom firm is one of the British enterprises about which we may boast to the world. With your numerous connections, we believe you will be more than capable of summoning guests in whom our visitor will delight,"
"If it's connections you want, would Her Majesty not be better off receiving this visitor herself?" Ciel said, pushing the envelope away from him, back towards them.
"Are you sure you ought to be saying such a thing?" Grey asked him, smirking. "Her Majesty harbors doubts regarding your report about the 'recent incident', Earl."
"…!" Ciel furrowed his brow. He was glad Chêne wasn't in the room.
" 'We have disposed of the perpetrator. The children were well beyond help, so we reduced them to 'naught', along with the manor. The decision to inform the parents of the truth or leave them believing their children were stolen away by the Pied Piper… is one I entrust entirely to the state.' Are you quite certain that story contains no hint of subterfuge?" Grey questioned. The queen didn't buy that for a minute. "Aren't these marching orders the perfect chance for you to restore the gleam to your dulled image?" He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "You might say this request from Her Majesty is not to the earl, her 'watchdog', but one simply to the earl, a 'nobleman'.
"Noblesse Oblige," Phipps said. "We should like you to consider it an obligation of the haves." Ciel and Sebastian exchanged a brief side glance.
"Very well," Ciel said, sliding the envelope back to his own side of the table. "I shall accept the request."
"By the way, I'll be participating as a supervisor. You've no objections, do you?" said Grey.
"As you wish," Ciel replied.
"We've already confirmed the safety of this manor," Grey added. "It doesn't seem like you'll need additional guards."
"No need to worry on that account," Ciel agreed. "This manor is absolutely secure. I'm against inviting superfluous personnel into the manor and raising the risk from within."
"Very well. Then we shall take our leave. You do not need to see us off," said Phipps. "We look forward to seeing you again in two weeks." 'Double Charles' left the room together and shut the door behind them.
"..." Ciel stared after them for a moment. "—Well, you heard the man, Sebastian," he said, standing up. "Prepare the invitations right away."
"Yes, Sir," Sebastian answered dutifully.
"And—get in touch with Lau and the undertaker as well," Ciel ordered.
"Very good, Sir."
The question was, how much should they involve Chêne?
—^—^—^—
"That was rather amusing! The servants had a lot of character," Grey said. "It's too bad we didn't get a chance to see Chêne. I wanted to order her to make me some of those 'cheesecake brownies' of hers."
"I doubt we would have had the time," Phipps said. "But that reminds me, was it okay to leave the door like that…?" He paused when they found themselves face to face with a new challenge. Standing there facing them with his back against the sunset was Finni. There was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen, and something told Finni it was because of the two people in front of him. But as Finni had no orders to attack currently, he let them pass.
"However!" Phipps said, spinning back around to strike. "You on the flanks… are open to attack!! In a flash of metal, it was over, and the hole in Finni's hat had been replaced with a patch in the shape of a tulip. "Disordered garb… reflects a distracted mind… my boy."
"Eh? Eh? Huh?" Finni said, momentarily confused before he realized what had just happened. His hat looked good as new!
"What is that?" Grey asked as they walked away. "Do you carry it with you at all times?"
"A first-class butler is able to deal with any emergency," Phipps replied. "His hat had a hole in it, you see."
"Thank yoooou!" Finni called after them, grateful and excited about having his hat repaired.
'I made quite a neat job of it too...' Phipps thought, pleased.
=†=†=†=†=†=
{Two weeks later…}
A certain doctor and writer found himself staring at a splendid carriage that was so clean it sparkled. He seemed like the kind of quiet, unassuming man that would never have anything exciting happen to him.
"This carriage has been sent for you, sir," the driver told him. "Please take a seat."
"R-Riiight," the doctor said, already a little overwhelmed and surprised. The coachman held the door open for him, and he climbed inside. He could hear some of the neighborhood kids talking about how the person who owned it must be rich, because it had two horses pulling it. They were right. 'This is the first time in my life I'm riding in a brougham-and-pair with a coachman,' he thought nervously as the carriage drove off with him inside. 'I'd better have that invitation in here someplace...' He started rummaging around inside his jacket, looking for it. "I'm already starting to feel nervous." He found the envelope and pulled it out to look at it. It was sealed in blue wax with a crest he didn't think he recognized. "Just what sort of fellow is the person who sent me this, I wonder…?"
[Early spring, 1889—Winter had not yet run its course. While living hand-to-mouth as an oculist in London, I was also a struggling writer. I say 'writer', but I put pen to paper only when there were no patients coming through the door. And although I had contributed works any number of times, only one had as yet been accepted, the remuneration for it a mere pittance. I was plagued more than ever by thoughts of simply shuttering the practice and moving to the Scottish countryside. It was then that I received a singular invitation.
Yes, that was where it all began.]
The carriage pulled up in front of a stately manor house.
[As I mentioned before, I was but a somewhat unfortunate yet ordinary man.]
The coachman helped his passenger out of the coach.
[However, the affair that occurred at the manor house to which I was invited would come to change my ordinary, humdrum existence by 180 degrees.]
The doctor stared up at the manor. The doors opened, and he was welcomed inside by an elderly, smartly dressed servant.
[A number of years have passed since then… and finally I have resolved to pick up my pen once more. Herein I shall recount… all I can about the incidents that I encountered at the Phantomhive manor—the grisly events which came to pass on that dark stormy night—]
