That Butler, Stalwart


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:

"Mister Phelps!!" Arthur cried, throwing the door to the bedchamber open. "Eh…!?" he said when it felt like he had stepped on something. He looked down and paled when he saw a human hand next to his shoe. There was Phelps, sprawled out on the floor with drool around his mouth, clutching the rug in his hands as if he had been trying to crawl across the floor. His unseeing eyes were wide open. "Mister Phelps!!" Arthur cried, immediately falling to his knees to examine the man.

=†=†=†=†=†=

At that moment, outside on the manor's grounds, the owl Mei-Rin released flew over a wooded area through the rain. Suddenly, the bird screeched in alarm as it was snatched from the sky. Feathers that had come loose in the struggle floated down through the trees to rest in a puddle on the forest floor next to a footprint in the mud.


SHAAAA.

The rain poured down harder than ever on the Phantomhive earldom. Water roared through the dams, and trees were felled by the inclement weather left and right. But inside the manor was no less dangerous. In Ciel's bedroom, the young earl, his servants, and the other remaining guests stared in shock at the body of Phelps on the floor while Arthur examined him.

"..." For the first time, Grey seemed truly startled.

"… How..." Ciel asked the question they were all wondering.

"..." Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. There was nothing he could do to help Phelps. He was long gone. "Quite some time has passed since rigor mortis set in."

"Are we all having a bad dream or something…?" Grimsby asked. How could it be that so many people just kept dying?

"There is no external trauma as in the previous two..." Arthur reported. "!" he gasped. "He has what appears to be puncture wounds on the neck!! Perhaps he was injected with poison from a needle or the like."

"A needle?" Ciel asked. His eyes slid over to Lau, who was currently ransacking his closet with Ran-Mao.

"Oh, I saaaay! Lord Earl lives in a most wonderful room!" Lau said lightly while he examined his suits. Ran-Mao was having fun trying on his top hats.

"Don't rummage around through someone else's quarters as you please!!" Ciel snapped at them with a vein mark on his head.

"Ah! Ha!" Lau said, pulling out the short qipao from when they were having fun forcing Ciel to crossdress during the Jack the Ripper case. Ran-Mao looked at the Chinese dress with interest while wearing the pink hat that matched the dress he wore to the viscount's. "You've held on to the dress I gave yooou! Have you worn it?"

"I certainly have not!" Ciel yelled angrily, paling at the thought. "Listen when I'm talking to you!!"

'Oops...' Chêne thought, studiously looking somewhere else. That was partially her fault. The dress was actually made with a high quality silk, so it seemed a shame to throw it out…

"Ugh..." Ciel groaned quietly, but his expression hardened again as he recalled how he had seen Lau attack a man using needles as a weapon during the case they met Agni and Soma. Chêne remembered that as well, but… something about the wound seemed familiar for a different reason.

"They could also be said to resemble the tooth marks of some beast or other..." Arthur said.

"Oh, that's it!" Chêne said, remembering where she had seen it before. "This wound looks similar to when one of my friends was bitten by a snake on her ankle before." Ciel was willing to bet good money that she was talking about Lacey.

"A snake? In here?" Grimsby asked dubiously.

"Bite marks on the neck… brings to mind Carmilla, doesn't it?" Irene said, looking pale.

"By that, are you referring to Le Fanu's vampiric Carmilla?" Ciel asked.

"Yes. Are you familiar with it?" Irene asked.

'Is she talking about that early lesbian vampire story?' Chêne wondered. She hadn't read it herself, but Lacey had given her the highlights. 'I guess since Dracula hasn't been written yet, that's the most famous literary vampire at this point… But I don't see how that's any more plausible than a snake?'

"So you're saying he was killed by a vampire!? Preposterous!" Woodley said. "Such occult and unscientific occurrences have no place in the nineteenth century!"

"Unscientific, hmm?" Ciel said, exchanging a glance with Chêne. They both knew at least two occult beings that were real… and when she asked Sebastian if she was a vampire, he never actually said there weren't any. "… That much is true, to be sure."

"2:38 A.M." Arthur said, drawing their attention to the fact that he had moved on to examine the broken carriage clock that had been knocked off the nightstand along with the lamp in whatever struggle had ensued.

"That would be the clock I kept at my bedside," Ciel said.

"It looks like it probably broke while he was being attacked or thrashing about in pain," Chêne observed.

"Which would mean that Mister Phelps died around 2:38?" Ciel asked.

"Yes," Arthur replied.

"..." Ciel furrowed his brow.

"Sayy! Instead of standing here holding court, why don't we go sit down and think the situation through? Over a nice cup of tea, perhaps?" Lau suggested.

"… Quite right," Ciel agreed. "Tanaka, show our guests to the drawing room."

"Very good, Sir," Tanaka answered and moved to do just that.

=†=†=†=†=†=

{Drawing Room...}

Tea was served by Tanaka and Chêne. Finni, Mei-Rin, and Bard waited on standby. Sebastian had prepared that for them too.

"Well, now that I've had my dessert, let's sort things out," Grey said, chewing the last bites of his pudding. "First, Lord Siemens. He died around 1:10 A.M. today. Only Earl Phantomhive has no alibi. And then, the butler… we do not know his time of death. Next was Phelps, and he died around 2:38 A.M. today… Okay so far?"

"No. The butler's corpse was discovered before Phelps's but we do not know which of the two was the first to be murdered," Arthur reminded him.

"Oh! Right," Grey said, considering it.

"Going by the state of the corpses, a few hours had elapsed from the time the two were killed. Thus, it holds that both I and the Earl have an alibi, as we were chained together till morning."

"…" Grey leaned back in his chair.

"The professor and I were shackled and got into bed around 2 A.M.. Sebastian mentioned then that he had already taken Mister Phelps through to my bedroom," Ciel said. "And then Mister Phelps was murdered around 2:38 A.M., hm..."

"Well, who saw Master Butler last?" asked Lau.

"The two of us most likely, but… the room was dark and the clock was far away, so I can't be certain of the exact time..." Arthur said. "Ah, but he did mention that Missus Chêne had already taken a sleeping draught."

"That's true. I took it a few minutes after 2 A.M., so I don't know anything about whatever happened from that time until my alarm woke me up several hours later," Chêne confirmed.

"Ah! We saw Mister Sebastian during the night!" Finni said about himself and Bard, raising his hand.

"I—I did too, I did!" Mei-Rin added.

"Around what time was that?" Arthur asked.

"Ummm, let's see… I think it was around 2:50 A.M.," Finni answered.

"That would mean Sebastian was the last to be murdered… isn't that right?" Arthur said.

"Why did he go to see you?" Ciel asked.

"He came to take stock of the food with me… and ordered this guy to clean the fireplaces," Bard replied.

"And he gave me a carrier… owl? … To dispatch at dawn," Mei-Rin said. "He also said he asked me because Missus Chêne was already asleep, so he couldn't ask her."

"An owl?" Ciel asked.

'Like Hedwig…?' Chêne wondered.

"An owl, unlike a pigeon, can fly even in a storm. Shrewd as usual, that guy," Bard explained.

"What did the letter say?" Grey asked.

"I was not privy to its contents, no sir," Mei-Rin said.

"He might've sent that letter to the police!" Arthur said.

"Even the phone lines are out due to this storm, after all," Ciel agreed. Grey frowned slightly.

"But if Sebastian was killed last, things get complicated, don't they?" Arthur said. "The only two who could have created a locked room scenario in the earl's quarters were Mister Phelps, who was within, and Sebastian, who possessed the key to said room… In that case, the theory that the culprit is Sebastian is most plausible… however… Sebastian himself was murdered."

"So… the butler lad conspired with another, with whom he committed the murders, then was himself killed to ensure his silence after an argument over the ill-gotten gains or somesuch?" Lau suggested. Chêne frowned at that.

"… That is possible. Then the likelihood is great of the perpetrator profiting from disposing of them all," Ciel said.

"Quite so, quite so! Money makes the world go 'round after all," Lau agreed.

"..." Woodley seemed nervous.

"Mister Phelps is the scion of the Blue Star Line, a leader in integrated maritime transport. He lacked presence, but he was capable enough to be put in charge of the trade division and had recently expanded the business into the Asian sphere," Ciel said. "Lau. He was a competitor of yours." Lau looked at him for a moment, then smiled.

"… Hmm. I suppose he would be at that," Lau said, sipping his tea.

"Furthermore, you carry around a needle in that capacious sleeve of yours, don't you?" Ciel continued.

"Eh?" the other guests said.

"Indeed I do! However, this is an instrument of oriental medicine," Lau said, pulling one from his sleeve to show everyone. The other guests were all surprised.

"Eep…!" Arthur, Irene, and Grimsby gasped.

"Th-Then you killed Phelps…!!" Woodley exclaimed, shooting to his feet.

"You were snooping about the earl's bedchamber just now! You were destroying evidence, weren't you!?" Grimsby accused Lau, also standing.

"Oh my worrrd! Don't you think you're being a bit rash?" Lau asked them. "Ahaha! What trick are you proposing I used to make a locked room out of the dressing room, which is so far in the back? It has no door leading to the outside, and I hate to disappoint you, but even we Chinese cannot pass through vents."

'Vents… a snakebite… I've heard something like this before…!' Chêne realized, eyes widening slightly, looking at Arthur. She thought she might know how Phelp's murder was committed, but she didn't know how to tell the others without exposing the source of her knowledge.

"First of all, please remember, I do have an alibi for the time of Lord Siemens' murder. Really, Lord Earl! You can be suuuch a bully! This is no time to be getting back at me, you know!" Lau chided him lightly.

"Should the man who suggested I be confined in the first place be saying such a thing?" Ciel deadpanned. "Well, even if you had conspired with Sebastian, no one could have killed all three victims." He sipped his tea. "I was merely teasing you."

"!" Arthur gasped when he consulted his notes again. "You're right."

"What is it you mean?" Irene asked while he scribbled some more in his notebook.

"If we make a simple chart of it… This is what we get," Arthur said, holding up a sketch that reminded Chêne of the detective's notes pad for the Clue game. There were three rows across the top to represent the victims, and fourteen rows down for who was in the manor for the party. He had put O's where people could have committed a crime and X's where people couldn't. "Only Earl Phantomhive could have murdered Lord Siemens around 1:10 A.M. Only Sebastian could have murdered Mister Phelps around 2:38 A.M. Finally, anyone but the Earl and I could have murdered Sebastian around 2:50 A.M. Thus! Even if the culprit had Sebastian for an accomplice… It is still impossible for one person to have murdered all of the victims!"

"If one person couldn't have done it, then guests who came to the party as a pair must be the guilty ones!!" Woodley shouted.

"Sod that!! It isn't bad enough that we're locked up in this godforsaken place, but now you have the gall to treat us like common criminals!?" Grimsby yelled angrily, standing up.

"Grimsby, calm down!" Irene pleaded, wrapping her arms around his waist to prevent him from having a go at Woodley.

"Yes, please do calm down, gentlemen!" said Arthur. "Besides, this isn't so simple a case as to be solved by the mere fact that two people would have been able to commit the cri—"

BANG!

"Simple or not, I couldn't care less!" Woodley yelled anxiously, slamming his fists on the table with an angry expression on his face. "I'm sick of this!!" He stood up. "I can't bear to be here any longer!!"

"And where is it you intend to go, sir?" Ciel questioned. "Under these circumstances, I would be grateful if you would refrain from taking liberties."

"How dare you accuse me of taking liberties!!?" Woodley roared. "When these horrors are all your—!"

"All my what?" Ciel asked, silently challenging him. Woodley froze, but then he gritted his teeth and raised a hand to point at the young earl.

"I—! I know what you're up to! Truth is, you're the mastermind behind all of his, aren't you!!?" Woodley accused.

"I am afraid I do not know to what it is you are referring, but please do compose yourself," Ciel replied innocently, perfectly calm.

"You called us here with the intention of putting an end to us all along!!" Woodley shouted. "You dog of the queen!" Ciel narrowed his eyes.

"…?" Arthur said, wonder what he was talking about.

"I'll have you let me go now!!" Woodley said desperately, ducking partially behind the settee. "Who in their right mind would stay here like a lamb to slaughter!!?"

"Please wait," Arthur urged him. "To leave in this storm would be folly! Staying here as a group would be best to avoid risking suspicion as well..."

"I will not be dictated to by some medical quack!!" Woodley yelled, striking Arthur.

CRASH!

The doctor was knocked into the table, sending the dishes flying.

"Kyaaaaah!!" Irene cried.

"Haah. Haah," Woodley panted, seething.

"Woodley," Ciel said darkly with his eye cast in shadow. "I am telling you to sit. So sit down. Now."

"H—!" Woodley said, glaring hatefully at the boy. "How dare you tell me what to do!!?" he yelled, drawing his fist back to punch Ciel next.

"My lord!!" Arthur cried with concern.

SLAM.

Before anyone could blink, Tanaka had Woodley in a hold and flipped him onto the floor without breaking a sweat. The old man was just as calm and collected as if he was serving tea.

"!!" Arthur and the other guests gasped, surprised and impressed.

"Guh…!" Woodley groaned, trying to struggle free, but it was no use. Tanaka kept a firm grip on him and had placed one of his knees on his back to pin him in place.

"My apologies, Mister Woodley," Tanaka said coolly. "However, at this manor, all who seek to harm the young master… whoever they may be…" He tightened his grip further.

"Guaah!" Woodley cried in pain.

"… Shall by we servants… be shown no mercy," Tanaka concluded gravely. Then he gave Woodley a polite smile. "Please do understand, sir."

"What is wrong with this cursed house!?" Woodley said, glaring up at him. "Damn you…!"

"Wh-What in the world did he just do?" Arthur asked, getting excited. "I never even saw him move!"

"I believe that was 'bartitsu,' a classic martial art of Japanese export," Lau said.

"Ba… Baritsu, you say?" Arthur asked again. That was the first time he had ever heard of it!"

'Actually, Bartitsu is English in origin, at least it was in my world...' Chêne thought, smiling a little wryly.

"I do beg your pardon, but won't you tell me more about this bartitsu—" Arthur asked.

"Tanaka. That will do," Ciel said, taking another sip of tea. Tanaka stood back up and brushed his hands off. "Mister Woodley. You will follow our instructions, won't you?" Ciel asked strictly.

'Maybe it's best if I bring it up again later,' Arthur thought, sensing the moment for questions about the unfamiliar martial art had passed.

"Tch…!" Woodley clicked his tongue in frustration as he pushed himself back up and onto his feet. He was clearly outmatched.

"—Well, then," Ciel said, setting his teacup down on its saucer. "As things currently stand, the professor is the only one among us who, without a doubt, cannot be the culprit." The chart had shown that very clearly. Chêne probably qualified as well, thanks to the sleeping draught, but there was no way to prove beyond doubt that she couldn't have simply been faking it. "Thus, I believe the safest and fairest option is to have the professor decide on how we should proceed."

"M-Me!?' Arthur asked, pointing at himself.

"Yes. For my part. I've no desire to leave the perpetrators endlessly wandering about my manor…" Ciel replied.

"W-Well, I can't say I'm not of the same mind on that account, but..." Arthur said hesitantly.

"Of course, the…" Irene said nervously, looking at Grimsby.

"Same goes for us… yeah?" he finished, also nervous.

"That settles it, then," Ciel said. "We have nothing but time until the storm let's up anyhow." Ciel laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands with his elbows on the arms of his chair. "So what do you say we hunt down and corner the culprits at our leisure?" he asked with a bright and beautiful smile. "Hmm? Professor?" A bead of sweat slid down the side of the doctor's face as he watched the boy with wide eyes.

[In that manor, through the halls of which a specter called a serial murderer was prowling, he smiled the incredibly innocent smile of a child. I know I shall never forget that smile of his for as long as I live. For like that of a little boy delighting in a game, it was cruel and beautiful, the smile of an imp descended from the Devil himself.]