Chapter 3

Hannah pointedly moves to Claude's side, standing right between him and Permelia. Claude glances upwards.

"May I speak privately to you, Claude?" Her severe gaze does not make her question a request.

Claude straightens and steps a few paces away with Hannah from the working girl. "Is something the matter?" he asks unnecessarily.

"Permelia is my charge. I'd appreciate it if you don't agitate her." Hannah's voice grew strained.

"I am doing nothing of the sort."

"You are giving advice."

He stays silent.

"You never give advice unless it's for Alois. If you're bored, I'm sure I can find something else in the home to satisfy you."

Satisfaction for Claude crouches a mere couple feet away. Coldly, he flicks his eyes towards Hannah. "Shall I train using Laevateinn?"

Summoning the sacred sword is a harrowing experience for the maid. She has to prevent herself from regurgitating every time Claude draws it out from deep within her. Not a pleasant sensation by any means. Claude can extend the duration of the extraction at his own will.

Hannah hangs her head to avoid his gaze. Anger brims in her expression. "If you have any intentions of hurting her..."

"Your imagination runs rampant. I think not of doing such a thing." This claim, Claude admits, is truth. He has no goal to bruise the merchandise. Only to spice it up.

Hannah looks at Permelia, her good blue eye appearing... caring for the girl?

Claude appraises her with a stony glare and flat mouth. He readies his trump card, a methodical, even stream of words. "If you have an issue, do you wish for me to take it up with the young master?"

At hearing his dreadful proposition, Hannah predictably blanches. Having one eye gouged out didn't create any qualms for Alois. What would another eye be to him? "N-no. I was only making a suggestion."

"Then I will take it under advisement." Claude turns his shoulder away slightly, a small gesture indicating the end of the counseling session. He is about to return to Permelia when he says suddenly, "Hannah, please bring out some water."

She pauses, debating between his truth and her belief of that truth. She inclines her head. "I shall trust you on your word, Claude. Do not harm her."

"You have such little faith, Hannah." Claude isn't sure if he sounds sarcastic when her name exits his mouth. He returns his sight to the diligent woman toiling in the soil. His stomach growls.

"Faith has nothing to do with being a demon." Hannah lingers for a moment longer, but leaves as commanded.

"Oh, and one additional favor, please." Hannah's back stiffens at Claude's addendum. His folded coat is held out. "Can you deposit this in my room? You are too kind."

Hannah stares at him before she goes, but he has eyes for one thing in the gardens.

Claude presses his lips together as he nears Permelia. He must see how much she follows his dance. "You are doing a marvelous job." A row of flora has been grounded and she is beginning the next.

"I hope I finish soon. I don't want to disappoint Lady Hannah."

There is a shine in her eyes in the way she says the maid's name. Hope? For Hannah? That doesn't make sense. No, Hannah herself isn't who the emotion is directed at. Is the feeling for a who? A what? Claude becomes puzzled.

"What drives you?" The question doesn't even register as a topic he intends to ask before he speaks it.

Permelia doesn't respond right away, likely not expecting Claude to inquire about something so personal. When she does answer, her voice is quiet. "I wish to be an actress. I need the money, though, but work is hard to find. And roles are often unsavory. My dream is still far off."

Dreams? This is a new concept to Claude. Is this what made souls all the delectable? The passion flaming in her eyes at the mere thought of achieving her dream is undeniably alluring. Most fitting for a tasty soul. He wants to sample a morsel, if just to remember a fragment of what motivation demons have. Claude has not eaten in far too long.

Claude pushes his hunger out of the way and concentrates on the task in front of him. He recommends he dig and she stick the flowers into the soil, as they'll finish quicker. Permelia agrees. He asks, "Are you getting closer to achieving your dream?"

Permelia stops moving at the question. "I don't know." She shrugs and shuffles alongside Claude as he loosens soil for her to use. "I can't tell, but I get hints. A new assignment or a piece of information. I get too excited when I do. As soon as I hear something that could be in my favor I jump on it. Maybe a meeting or a walk-on role. But nothing really happens." She sighs and digs again. "It's a bad habit to gamble so much on tiny things like this, isn't it?"

It's those so-called insignificant things that can drive people, guide them to do miraculous deals they might not have considered doing. A source of fire. Claude fits a puzzle piece to his soul research.

He thinks he does, anyway. He can't tell yet.

"...way?"

Claude has zoned out. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you think I'm going about this dream the wrong way? Chasing after every lead. I mean, you... You're a butler and of high rank. I can't imagine reporting directly to Master Alois. I wish I were like you. Your calmness astonishes me."

Permelia's sad eyes drift low to spot somewhere on his sleeve. The poignancy of her despair is rich and full, like the blackest coffee. Its magnetism is remarkable and Claude is tipping forward. "I cannot divine the future. Nobody can. What is right or wrong I do not become overly concerned over." Claude slowly tips her chin up to have Permelia look at him, so he can understand the soul further. When her liquid eyes pierce it takes him all his willpower to suppress the wracking shudder of ecstasy from contracting his body. Sadness is the finest ambrosia.

"Claude?" He has almost began to overtake her personal territory with his face inching closer to hers. Permelia recedes from the intimacy and unconsciously pulls away.

Inside, he startles, but his composed outer self simply continues the physical exertion of digging. He successfully moves to the trivialities of the days. How she finds the Trancy mansion, what she thinks of the area where they live, where is her favorite spot on these spacious grounds. The subjects are not terribly deep nor enlightening, but Claude is so immersed in the ways that she answers that he vaguely senses Hannah meeting them just as they are done.

The combination of movement and sunlight has Claude in a light sweat and he absently fiddles with his collar. "You did a fine job. I'll be sure to point them out to the young master." Why are these compliments coming out?

Permelia beams. "Thanks to you, Claude. I couldn't have done it all. I-" She halts in her appreciation, seeming self-consciously mindful of Hannah's presence right there. Then her stare steadies as though she's changed her mind, suddenly not caring about unwanted attention. "Thank you, again." Permelia flashes Claude the quickest of smirks. He doesn't know why. He believe he wants to find out. Permelia goes to Hannah to leave together.

Hannah pats her shoulder when Permelia walks up. The gesture is fleeting, but Claude senses fondness. "You finished with the garden. Wonderful." Hannah speaks to Permelia but watches Claude as she states this, who is impassive at their exit. A quirky smile crosses Hannah's face. It flickers and it is clearly meant for Claude. She walks away with Permelia.

If she keeps up those enigmatic smiles enough, Claude will be prone to some violence to discover why.

Author's note: Writing Claude's cruelness has its fun. Chapter 4 awaits!