"I'm off." the bluenette said, grabbing his hat and his riding crop at the door. "Bye, dear."
"Bye-bye~! Remember you need to help me with those e-mails when you get home, okay?" answered his spouse.
"I will. I'll talk to Integra and get her opinion before I head back, as well." nodded Ciel. Leaning in, he pecked his husband on the lips. "Good luck, darling. Love you."
"I love you, too, poochie." grinned the menace while the other demon headed out the door. Standing in the entrance-way, still wearing pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt, Alois waved at him as he left. Yes, Alois was sure that he was going to have a most excellent day, once he sent out those messages. It didn't matter to him how many generations away these clowns were. No one with Trancy blood may live on that land as long as Jim Phantomhive is alive and kicking!
The night before, he and the bluenette pulled some strings and got the information of several researchers at multiple universities that may be interested in Alois' project. If the Pomeroy family was going to deny evidence of human trafficking taking place on that estate, Alois would prove it. He would make it plain for all the world to see, all without revealing his own true nature.
Either way, they didn't have a leg to stand on. It was government property, now, so no one may live there without her majesty's explicit permission, regardless. Several projects were proposed to be developed on the land over the years, but nothing every came into fruition. Alois was going to make sure that it never returned to being an estate. He didn't care what it turned into in the end, as long as it was not ruled by monsters. In this case, the monsters were a well-known crime family that extended from another crime family, just as the "Evil Noblemen" developed into the Round Table Conference.
Time stands still for no one. While he was away or just flat-out wasn't looking, the blood of Trancy had spread like a disease. That was something that he absolutely could not accept. He would never accept it! Just as Ciel had his own projects and vendettas, this was Alois', although he, like his spouse, grew weary of revenge.
Ciel grew weary of war, as well. Yet, here he was, back at basic training. This time, he was the instructor instead of the soldier, however. It was a somewhat surreal experience for him. Being back in uniform felt good in some ways. He felt nostalgic for a time of glory when he was really needed. Yet, in other ways, it felt terrible. He tried to force it to the back of his mind so that he may focus on the task at hand. Looking at these troops, he wondered how exactly they would feel if they knew that they were being taught by a demon. Especially one that slaughtered people with his bare hands.
It didn't matter then, however. What mattered was completing his job, as promised. Surely completing a task given to him by an angel would be good for him, but that morning, he started to regret it. Hearing the sound of a bugle call, he marched up to the door to the barracks and violently swung it open. Switching on the lights, he stepped inside.
"Good morning, recruits!" he shouted, walking down the aisle. "It's time to get up! Get up! Get up! Get off your lazy arses! Get your wash kits! And follow me!"
All around him, the recruits hurried, though some took their sweet time. One was actually still laying down, prompting the demon to pick up the end of his bed and lift it, turning it over and forcing him out onto the freezing linoleum floor. The man yelped loudly as he fell, but earned no sympathy from his commanding officer.
"Wake up, Young!" Ciel ordered in a booming voice. "Why are you still trying to sleep?! Do you not see your platoon waiting for you to get up and get your shit together! Move! Hurry! Hurry!"
In their haste, the crew scrambled to put some shoes on and to get their necessities. They all stood at attention while the officer stalked the aisles with a mean look on his face. Before saying anything else, Ciel flipped another bed.
"This room is absolutely disgusting!" he shouted. "I told you quite clearly that I do not want pigs in my platoon! Who swept the floors?!"
Waiting for an answer, he eventually got one. "Nobody, sir!"
"And why the bloody hell not?!"
"We needed to go to bed, sir!"
"I don't give a ruddy rat's arse!" Ciel actually surprised himself with the language he was using, but tried his best not to show it. In the back of his head, he imagined Alois standing off to the side, "oohing" and "ahing" like a child who heard his teacher swear for the first time. "I want this place spotless every. Single. Morning. I want all of you idle pieces of garbage to throw on a jacket, and get in line outside. Move!"
Panicked, the group did just that. They shivered in the cold, early morning air in nothing but their jacket, shorts, and a pair of boots. All the while, they heard the sounds of crashing and banging coming from inside as the demon tore apart the barracks. He flipped beds and knocked over lockers, strewing things all over the floor. When he came out again, he was still irate and ready to tear into these sorry sods.
"When you are all done washing, you will go back in there, and you will get your barracks and belongings ready for inspection!" the bluenette declared. "You will dust, you will sweep, you will polish, you will shine, and you will organise each and every single thing in that room according to regulation."
"You messed the place up..." one unfortunate said aloud in shock.
"What do you care, Henderson?! You lot obviously feel at home in squalor, so you should feel downright giddy!" barked the Watchdog. "Turn toward the showers and march! Go!"
Quickly, the group marched in rows of three. The constant reminders to stay in line and to march in step bombarded them all the way. The demon stopped them once more before they could go in, however.
"You will go in there and you will wash yourselves thoroughly. You will wash your back, your front, and under your arms. I shouldn't have to remind you, but seeing as though you cannot be trusted to keep your living space in a manner suitable for humans, I'm afraid I have to." the bluenette stated. "You have thirty minutes for all of you to get clean and back in the barracks. Go!"
Hastily, the group made their way inside, trying not to slip. They rushed to the best of their ability, although while worrying about getting done in time. While some were showering, others were shaving. Some of them were doing so for the first time in their lives and cut themselves with their razor by mistake. When one group was done, they ran out of the showers and back to the barracks to get dressed. After a while, the next wave would come, and the next. This happened until everyone was back in the barracks and quickly trying to get things sorted enough to retrieve the rest of their clothes and get dressed. Some of them were only partway through before the Phantomhive came back into the room. Everyone stood at attention as he kicked things to the side to clear himself a path.
"I am immensely disappointed in all of you." he said, pacing down the makeshift aisle. "We tell you exactly what you need to do, and you fail to do it. You didn't fail because of inability. No, it's much worse than that. You failed because you didn't give enough of a bother to keep this place clean! You can't even be bothered to pick up your own shit, so what good are you?! Do you wallow in filth like this at home?"
"Sir, no, sir!"
"Why not? Do you clean up at your house? What gives you the right to come in here and wreck ours?!"
"Nothing, sir!"
"That's what your doing! We have graciously allowed you to stay here while you train. This is our barracks. This is our base. Yet you treat it like your own, personal, garbage dump. Does your mummy pick up after you? Is that why you're so bloody pathetic? Does your mummy come in behind you while your busy being a disgusting pig and keep your surroundings livable for you?" Ciel asked, earning multiple utterances of "Sir, no sir," but glaringly, an alarming amount of the men stayed silent.
"Let me tell you something, cadets." the demon continued. "I am not your sodding mother! I will not pick up after you! You will pick up after yourselves! You will maintain these barracks so that they are always immaculate! You may feel free to be a disappointment her all you wish, but you will not do so here! If you cannot be bothered to maintain basic hygiene, how on earth can we expect you to take care of your weapons? How on earth can we expect you to not bring back disease? No longer will you wallow around in your own filth like pigs! You are men now! I will not hold your hand like a small child and coddle you until you feel like getting around to acting like it! Am I understood?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Let's hope so, or there's no hope for any of you! You will have two hours to prepare not only this place for inspection, but also you kits, and yourselves. I want you to prove to me that you can take care of yourselves like grown adults. Is that too much to ask?"
"Sir, no sir!"
"Are you going to make this place shine?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
"Well get to work, then!" With that, Ciel made his way out of the barracks and slammed the door. He was positively fuming. They were given perfect instruction on how to maintain the place like they are supposed to, and they failed. They chose to fail because they were too lazy to get around to it when they needed to.
"Wanker." Carl huffed while putting his mattress back on top of the bed, exerting as much effort as his skinny arms wanted to. "He wrecks the place and then tells us to fix it?! What's his fucking problem?!"
"We were supposed to sweep the floors and polish them last night before bed." spoke one of the men. He was a tall man with droopy eyes and dark skin and the way he looked at Carl was wrought with displeasure. "Someone help me lift this locker."
"Shut up, Solomon. What kind of name is Solomon?" the other continued to gripe, shifting his frustration from their commanding officer to his fellow cadet, Solomon Danlaw. He didn't do much but stand there while everyone else assisted each other in putting lockers upright and moving them out of the way to sweep.
"Less talking, more cleaning." said Bryce as he worked a broom. Tailing behind him with a bucket of polish were two others, Timothy Maddigan and Clancy Peterson.
Both were a little on the short side, but had their differences. Clancy had a square-ish jaw and a cleft chin while Timothy was a weaselly-looking fellow in the shape of his face and had the faint remnants of a full head of red hair taking the form of fuzz on his scalp. He was nice enough, though. He couldn't hold in his laughter no matter how hard he tried, which was a shame due to it's infectious nature.
Putting beds in their proper place after they had been swept and polished under were Wallace and Ryan. Ryan had a distinct look about him, particularly in that he had one ear that liked to poke out like it had a mind of it's own, and pouty lips that often got him picked on in school. Meanwhile, Wallace was usually picked on for being somewhat pudgy and liking paranormal stuff instead of sports. Every once in a while while moving things, his glasses would fall a bit on his face, causing him to scrunch it in hopes of slowing their process, only to have to stop and nudge them back into place.
Doing little odds and ends like dusting the tops of the lockers and taking out the trash were Joseph Kidman and Jason Choi. The prior was known for being a buzzkill at a lot of the Belmont gatherings despite his award-winning smile and cheerful disposition, but it was mostly due to a low tolerance for ", white boy humour" that was prevalent in some geek circles. He found that his outspoken nature and pigmentation intimidated them and in some cases, outright upset them, but made no effort and had no interest in changing anytime soon. The latter was a rather surprising addition to the group. Not only was he the oldest of the group, he was also both the most athletic member of the platoon and the only one who was previously unaffiliated with Belmont in any way. In fact, Jason had never heard of it until the first day of camp and wasn't entirely interested in the supernatural per se. He simply had his own reasons and motivations for being there and that's all any of the others really needed to know.
All of them in addition to some others worked hard and tried to delegate tasks to the best of their abilities, trying their best to not let their frustration toward the bluenette get in the way of the task at hand. Carl was no help, however, especially since he intentionally kept trying to stir them up.
"What gives that arsehole the bloody right to come in here, call this place a pigsty, and mess it up to support his claim?" he demanded. "It isn't right! I won't stand for it!"
"What are you going to do, Carl?" skeptically questioned Joseph, challenging the other man's morale. "Tell him to bugger off?"
"He'll tell him that it hurts his feelings and then get turned into a splatter on the walls for us to clean up." added Bryce, earning a laugh from his compatriots. "Come to think of it, aren't you the one who said it wasn't a big deal if we cleaned up the first night?"
"Yeah… He did say that, didn't he?" recalled Joseph. "He said that that's how it was when he was in the army."
At that, Mister Choi got the attention of the group by letting out a small puff of air. "Pfft! He's not old enough to be in the military. The only way that would be possible is if he got kicked out his first year or so."
"It was a private army." Carl defensively stated. "You wouldn't understand."
"We understand that you're full of it." said Bryce.
"Does anybody need utensils cleaned?" asked Clancy, interrupting the chatter while carrying his own silverware. "I'm going to wash mine now."
"Good idea!" Timothy replied. "We should also divide smaller tasks like that! Who's the best at making bed boxes?"
"Ryan's pretty good." pointed out Wallace. "I don't think that's a one-man job, though."
Very quickly, they divided tasks while working. They had to fend for themselves in some areas, but others graciously offered assistance when they got stuck or had difficulty. Soon, the room was looking presentable, leaving them to worry about their personal appearance as time ran out. With a few finishing touches here and there, they believed themselves to be done. Yet, they kept checking and making adjustments until the very moment that the Phantomhive burst through the door once more.
Immediately, all of them went to attention while Ciel inspected the floor. It was swept. It was polished. It was consistent, much to his delight, but there was still more to investigate.
"Hold up your eating kit so I can inspect them." he said. As he walked by each person, he had them turn them over so that he could see each side, and was so far impressed with his findings. That is, until, he spotted a mug that displeased him.
"Is this mug clean?" the bluenette questioned, his tone somewhat normal as he gestured to the ceramic. His inquiry prompted Maddigan to look down at his cup.
"Yes sir." he answered, but the officer didn't seem convinced.
"What's all that in there?"
"Water, sir."
"Why is there water in the bottom of your cup? Did you not drain it?"
"Apparently not, sir." Maddigan answered, growing increasingly nervous.
"Then why did you tell me it's clean?" Ciel questioned.
"It is clean, sir."
"That's clean?" The Phantomhive tilted his head as he asked this. "If it's clean, then drink it."
Hesitantly, the other man did what he was told and placed the rim of the mug to his lips. Knocking it back, his face scrunched and he stuck out his tongue. He cringed in disgust from the taste.
"What does it taste like, Maddigan?"
"Soap, sir..." Timothy answered. Without saying another word to him, Ciel gently took the mug from his hand and dropped it on the floor, causing it to break. All the while, he maintained eyecontact until it was time to move on to the next person.
This was a common mistake, it would seem, as more than one mug was shattered that day. In one instance, Ciel told the cadet to smash it, himself. But then, he got to the terrified Clancy Peterson, who washed all of the utensils, but didn't wash everyone's cup. He hadn't thought to check his own mug before inspection, but was too scared to look before the officer came.
"Stop shaking." Ciel said. His voice was quieter than usual and had been that way throughout the inspection. He found nothing wrong with the silverware and much to Clancy's relief, nothing wrong with the mug, either. But, before the bluenette could leave, he had to look at his uniform and something caught his eye. Gesturing to the man's neck, he asked "What's that?"
"What's what, sir?" Peterson asked, knowing not only exactly what the other man was pointing at, but also a new level of fear.
"That black stripe around your neck? The one that's poking out of the collar of your shirt."
"It's… uh… a choker, sir..." Clancy answered somewhat bashfully. The accessory was a tad effeminate, he knew, and worried as to whether or not it was a dead giveaway. There was not only that, he worried about an implied sexual overtone, as people often wrongly interpreted the choker that way. Clancy thought that it would be hidden by the collar of his shirt, but it would appear that he was mistaken. Ciel caught it, and Peterson was terrified as to what was going to happen next.
"Why are you wearing a choker underneath your uniform?" the demon inquired, expertly masking his confusion with a stone cold expression.
"It has a religious symbol on it, sir." the other explained. "It's a pentacle and I'm a wiccan, sir."
"Let me see it." the Watchdog instructed while holding out a hand. Cautiously, Mister Peterson set down his utensils and unfastened the choker before handing it to his commanding officer. He watched fearfully as Ciel examined it, but was surprised when he handed it back without much fuss.
"Keep it in your locker or in your pocket." the demon told him. "If it's visible on your person, you're out of uniform. Next time, I'll have to punish you."
"Understood, sir." while Clancy was upset that he couldn't continue to wear it, he was glad that it wasn't confiscated and that he wasn't yelled at. He was even given an explanation that was somewhat understandable, so he couldn't argue much. Not that he would if he could, however.
"Good work cleaning up. Your boots are a bit scuffed, so next time, be sure to polish them."
"Yes, sir."
With that, Ciel moved on. It was hard to yell at someone who was actually shaking. He saw the fear in the man's eyes and how it changed when the choker was pointed out. Ciel recognised it. He personally knew that particular kind of fear, too.
A few men down the line, the demon stopped and examined a mister Wallace Young, who was also terrified, but for different reasons. Wallace had messed up since his first interaction with the instructor, and knew he was going to get heat again. He knew what he did this time and Ciel knew as well. He could see it plain on his face.
"Did you shave this morning?" questioned the officer, staring intently at the man's face.
"No, sir."
"Why the bloody hell not?"
"I didn't have time, sir." Wallace answered.
"You didn't have time?" Ciel looked around the room for a moment while Wallace cringed. "I gave you two whole hours to get not only the barracks, but also yourselves in order. I didn't have to do that. Ordinarily, you would only be given thirty minutes to make final adjustments before inspection, but I didn't do that. I gave you two whole hours. Yet you still didn't have time? Let me ask you again, cadet. Why didn't you shave this morning?"
"Because… Because I'm a pig, sir..."
"I don't want you to be a pig, cadet. I want you to be a soldier. I'm concerned, however, as I'm not sure how you can be expected to take care of ghouls and vampires if you can't take care of yourself." Turning to the group, Ciel felt as though this was a point that needed to be made to all of them.
"Before each and every mission, there is a checklist of things that you must do in order to prepare. Missing just one of these things can cost you dearly. Forgetting to clean your gun can cause it to jam, leaving you defenseless for a few critical seconds so that a vampire may close the gap between you and tear your bloody throat out. Forgetting your nightvision goggles will cause you to shoot in the dark. Forgetting to bandage up any open wounds you may have can cause you to contract lycanthropy without getting bitten. All it takes is the back splatter from a fully transformed werewolf on a full moon getting into a papercut to infect yourself with an incurable and very painful supernatural condition. This is why you have a checklist of things and why we need you to be able to follow it like clockwork. That way, there are no mistakes." Turning back to mister Young, he gave him instructions. "Open up your locker door and stand in it until I decide to let you out."
"Yes, sir." It was humiliating- stereotypical, even, but Wallace did it anyway.
Moving down the line, Ciel spotted another problem with a different cadet. This time, it was Carl Henderson who took the heat. Although he was confident, he wound up with his cup smashed on the floor like several others, much to his displeasure. It didn't end there, however. It only got worse.
"Let me see your hands." the bluenette said before wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Are you a bird?"
"Sir, no sir!" Henderson replied.
"Then what's with these goddawful talons of yours?" Naturally, the demon was displeased. What's worse could see dirt and grime undeneath them as well. "You've got shit underneath them, too. Why are you going around my camp, touching everything with your filthy poo hands?"
"They're not poo hands, sir!"
"Then what the bloody hell is it? Are you saying that you don't wipe either? I don't want any disgusting pigs in my camp, Henderson! Get in your locker."
In a huff, the man did as he was told, swinging open the locker and stepping inside. His attitude was not missed by the officer, however. Once he was in and the door was shut, Ciel grabbed hold of the top of his locker and knocked it over. He wasn't as violent as he could have been, however, and opted to gently set it face down on the ground so that Carl couldn't escape without the help of his team.
"I do not appreciate the attitude, Henderson." Ciel said, bringing one boot down on top of the locker. "Not. One. Single. Bit. When everyone else is going to breakfast, you and mister Young will go and complete basic hygiene like you were supposed to. You hear that, Young?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" Young said from his locker.
"Let him out." Ciel said, gesturing to Solomon Danlaw, who immediately jumped into action. With that, Ciel removed his boot and began to pace again. "As for the rest of you..." Everyone braced themselves for whatever it was that was to come next.
"...Well done." the Watchdog said. "I was going to have all of you run around the barracks until you couldn't anymore, but I am impressed with the improvement from this morning, prompting me to reconsider. Well done. You are to maintain a clean barracks every single morning like you should have done in the first place! You can do it, so do it!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" the others replied.
"Good. Go to breakfast, then. Off with you. Those of you with broken mugs, stop by the NAAFI first. Dismissed!"
Most of the recruits were starving by now and none of them needed to be told twice. The food wasn't great. It was alright. At the same time, however, it was one of the most peaceful times of camp so far, so they looked forward to a moment of relaxation. Most of them had cleared out, completely forgetting about Carl Henderson as he remained trapped in his locker. Only Walter Young lingered behind as he got his shaving kit, and Joseph Kidman decided to assist him in helping their comrade get out because he was simply a good sport.
"Fuck's sake!" Carl grunted as he stepped out, rubbing his arm. "Thanks, Wallace." He paused, looking right at Joseph before turning his head back to Wallace. "What the fuck is his fucking problem? He could've killed me!"
"Well, maybe not kill you, but you could've been hurt." Mister young replied, his eyes flickering to Joseph, acknowledging him for a brief second before turning back to Carl.
"I oughtta kick his ass!" declared Mister Henderson. "He goes around, marching in his fancy outfit and eyepatch, acting all tough, but what the fuck does he know that I don't?!"
Obviously being ignored, Joseph rolled his eyes and turned to join the others for breakfast. Once he was outside, he shut the door, leaving the other two to rant and rave. "'Hey, thanks a lot, man!'" he said aloud to himself in his best Carl impression. "'Hey, don't worry about it. That's what teammates are for!'" With a shake of his head, he kept walking until he got in line at the cafeteria.
"I don't like that Carl bloke." he said at the table. "He always complains when he gets in trouble for fucking up. I've never seen a man who whines so much."
"Don't like him much m'self, either." answered Clancy while shoveling weirdly mixed scrambled eggs into his mouth. "He's… I dunno… There's something not right about him. There's the gun thing when we were in the truck yesterday, and it's like, he always has a comment for you when he thinks no one's paying attention."
"Yeah. You're not gonna believe the shit he tried to pull yesterday." Joseph lowered his volume as he said this. "He kept trying to offer me a banana at lunch yesterday. Made a big deal out of it. I kept telling him I don't want it, but he kept insisting with that stupid grin on his face."
"That fucker… I saw that, too and didn't say anything, though… Sorry..."
"Nothing you could've done. Ryan told him to knock it off and he pulled that 'it's just a joke' bullshit. No offense, but when white boys say that, it's never a joke."
"None taken. I agree with you." the other man replied. "He definitely meant it and tried to get all of us on board, too. Probably trying to figure out which ones of us are like him."
"I'd kind of like to know that myself, for future reference." Kidman smiled as he added: "You know he's too much of a chicken shit to say that shit to Solomon. I'm the shortest one here, but Solomon? He looks really scary to people with a certain mindset."
"He does seem to have a bit of resting bitch face syndrome, but I just figured he just likes to keep to himself. I agree with you, though. Henderson is the type to talk a lot of shit, but not be able to back it up. I'm just gonna try not to worry about him much."
Breakfast carried on in an unusually ordinary fashion. It was the most "ordinary" any of them got since they've been at camp, even though it's only been one day, a night, and a morning. Clancy was still enjoying his weird-tasting toast when he was tapped on the shoulder. When he turned to face the person who did it, he nearly leaped out of his seat to stand to attention, but the corporal didn't seem phased.
"Sir Phantomhive wants to speak to you in his office." Corporal Conelly informed, prompting the blood to drain from his face.
Looking to his comrades one last time, he stood up, taking his utensils and such with him. Fortunately, he had eaten everything on his plate and simply needed to return it. He would wash his cutlery later. For now, he was going to be escorted by the corporal to the commanding officer's office. There, he had no idea what horrors awaited him.
Out in the hallway, he waited in a chair until the Phantomhive let him in. Once the door opened, he stood up at attention.
"Oh, there you are, Peterson." Ciel observed. He spoke in a bizarrely casual fashion that was forgein to the cadet, but Clancy remained on his toes. "Come in. This will only take a second."
"Thank you, sir." Clancy replied, accepting his invitation. With that, he remained at attention in front of the other man's desk while Ciel sat down.
Mister Peterson wondered what was different about him, only to realise that he wasn't wearing his hat. For a moment, he thought about the unusual hue of his commanding officer's locks, finding them to look quite nice. In this context, Sir Phantomhive was quite the good looking man. He had a smart uniform, smooth pale skin, and a deep blue eye that seemed to gaze right into one's soul. Then, all of that was forgotten in a flash, however, as Clancy's eyes caught the sight of the other's riding crop sitting on the desk between them.
"About this morning..." the bluenette began. "Your necklace, that is. I hope I didn't come across as disrespectful to your faith. The issue was purely that of uniform. I cannot allow you special privileges and not the rest of the group, who I am sure are thoroughly sick of uniforms altogether."
Now Clancy was really confused. Did Sir Phantomhive just try to joke with him? It was absolutely unthinkable, so he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him.
"I am not offended, sir." the cadet stated.
"Still, it was of significance. Hold out you hand."
Cautiously, Clancy did just that, but his eyes closed and his body tensed as he saw the bluenette's hand move toward the riding crop. Then, he heard the sound of a small wooden box opening and closing before feeling something metallic being dropped into his hand. Now curious, he opened his eyes and looked at it, only to find a small pentacle on a chain in his palm.
"While Christianity has always been an integral part of our organisation, the requirement has been dropped since 1999. Now all religions are welcome to join, and many soldiers find that having a symbol of their faith with them to be reassuring." Ciel explained. He now spoke to the cadet as a person on his level, rather than someone he is trying to control. It was quite jarring to the other man, but things just kept getting stranger.
"It wasn't hard to find one of those. All I had to do was ask the operatives in the supply room. That will be better concealed under your uniform than your choker. I don't need it back, either, so you're free to keep it." the demon continued. "We don't discriminate, here, so feel free to talk to me if you or any of the others have any problems or concerns and I will do my best to either accommodate you or resolve the situation. Is there anything that concerns you on this matter?"
"Well, we typically have rituals to celebrate the moon's passage around the earth on the Esbats. I usually go on full moons." Clancy explained. "I don't want to inconvenience anyone, though! I feel like the others in the barracks wouldn't be very appreciative of that..."
"Alright..." Pausing, Ciel took out a memo pad to write himself a note on the matter. "I will try to figure something out for you. It may be tricky, since this is at night- naturally. I may need to find someone to unlock the door and supervise you. When I do get something figured out, if there are others who wish to participate, please tell me so I can tell the person supervising. Alright?"
"Yes, sir!" Relief washed over the cadet as the Phantomhive appeared to be rather level-headed and understanding about this, as opposed to his usual self.
"Good man." the demon stated. "Now, off with you. I will see you at lecture."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" As glad as Clancy was, he was much more glad to leave. Though, he did have something interesting to talk about with the other lads. He felt strangely eager to get to the next lecture, as he would be the only one there who sat with the knowledge that Sir Ciel Phantomhive is not a heartless bastard.
A/N: I already wrote a really long A/N, but it got deleted and I'm not writing it again.
I don't know if that stuff about the moon is right, though, even though I tried to look into it. If I'm wrong, please do tell me so I can add it to my notes!
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
