Chapter 5 : The White Fool's Diagonal

("The Fool's Diagonal", referring to the chess piece called the bishop in English but the fool in French)

The day before Lord Siemens' murder

Snake collapsed once more into the mud, while torrents of brown water streamed along the paths disappearing into the horizon.

— You will pay for this, Ciel Phantomhive! he cried, digging his nails into the sticky earth.

But his strength was leaving his body. He had already fallen three times, but this time, he couldn't get back up.

The world had become a vast swamp, reflecting his heart. He had nothing left, no one. Exhausted, letting his face sink into the mud, he fainted, ignoring the hissing of the reptiles whispering to him not to give up.

When he had left London, the sun was still shining, but heavy black clouds had already begun to cover the sky, hiding the light and draping the boy in a cold veil. He was still walking when the rain began to fall on his face, drenching his clothes.

The two snakes resting on his shoulders coiled around his neck like a scarf, trying to shield him from the wind and rain, but the cold-blooded reptiles couldn't warm him.

It didn't matter; he couldn't feel the icy gusts biting into his flesh or the rain falling from a black sky, paralyzing his muscles.

He felt alone, so alone.

Emilie, the snake licking his cheek with her forked tongue, had told him that the boy "Smile," who had come into the main tent during the circus performance — the tent of his forever lost friends — was Earl Phantomhive. That was the name he had given himself that day, when he fled the troupe's shower corner after Freckles tried to undress him to wash him. The young boy had hidden behind the wagons, and "Black" had come to join him as he shivered with cold.

And the boy had said:

— I shouldn't live like this, I, the head of the Phantomhive family.

She had recognized the name from the biography he had shown her, the one found in Joker's tent.

He had never trusted the two newcomers. Unlike Joker and Dagger, he had been cautious. The tall one, Black, was too used to snooping around the circus, ignoring the troupe's rules. And this young man, this charming one-eyed boy, seemed as innocent as the snakes that kept him company.

But the troupe had welcomed them, accepted them, cherished them, just as they had done for him, the snake-man, the monster-man.

They had called him "brother," and never again had he been alone. That's why this betrayal was unforgivable to him!

He had waited for them, for so long.

The morning sun had shone, despite the cold, but the tents of his friends remained empty. He had waited for them, for so long. But they never returned.

That morning, he had left the circus. Nothing tied him to the troupe anymore. And every laugh from the spectators echoed in his heart as sobs that were never shed. The clown was sinister; he wanted the trapeze artists to fall. The replacements were bland, just like the days that passed far from those they had loved.

So, he left.

He had wandered through the streets of London, feeding on the trash covering the gutters, stealing from market stalls. On some occasions, he would send his snakes after the carriages of wealthy gentlemen who, in their fright, abandoned the vehicle and the few treasures they carried but didn't keep on them.

Life had returned to solitude and misery. But it wasn't the same. A new, bitter, atrocious taste filled his lips. The taste of things lost in pain, a need for justice… a need for revenge!

After two weeks of this bohemian existence, he had returned to the circus before it left the capital to tour the provinces.

The troupe was already dismantling the big top but hadn't touched the tents of the former circus masters, as if they still expected their return before departure. After greeting his forgotten colleagues, Snake slipped away to search for clues in the main tent. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for. He was content to open chests, check the beds, leaf through the papers scattered on the tables. He wanted to know where his friends had gone, for what reason, and most importantly, why they had never returned.

And as he leafed through some scattered sheets, Emilie interrupted his reading with a sharp hiss. He held in his hands a biography of a boy, "Ciel Phantomhive."

— Smile! she hissed.

And that name, it seemed he had heard it from Wendy, the trapeze artist. It was the name of the mansion they were supposed to go to that night. That's where they had disappeared. That's where he had to go.

So, he set out for the Phantomhive manor, as the sun darkened and the sky grew gloomy and threatening.
_

Inn room, a few hours before Lord Siemens' death

When he woke up, his body was numb from the heat. Outside, the rain pounded against the window. He heard a crackling sound, like a gentle fire in the fireplace. He opened his eyes, surprised, and suddenly sat up. He was in a modest room, containing only a table, a chair against the wall, and the bed he had been lying in. Large logs burned in the fireplace, casting sinister shadows on the bare wall.

Wilde and Keats slid down from the headboard, where they had perched while waiting for their master to wake up. As Wilde coiled around his chest, Snake realized his clothes had been removed and were drying by the hearth.

Unashamed, he threw off the covers that had been over him and stood up, wearing only his cold-blooded animals on his bare torso and hips. Emilie appeared from under the bed and slithered across the floor to climb up his leg. With long strides, he walked toward the fireplace to retrieve his clothes, determined to leave this unknown place.

— You're leaving already? The weather is dreadful. You shouldn't go out now.

Snake spun around, startled by the intruder who had spoken. His snakes hissed, threatening.

In the chair, which had been empty just a moment before, sat a man with long scarlet hair, reminding him of the deep reds Beast used for her performance. He was seated, legs crossed. In the shadows and the glow of the flames, Snake could only make out his blood-red coat. He seemed to be wearing an impeccable suit, and his gloved fingers drummed cheerfully on the wooden table — a sound that already irritated the young man.

The figure let his gaze drift over the boy's body and continued, in a high-pitched, cheerful, and annoying voice:

— I must say, my young friend, that despite those nasty serpent scales marring your youthful skin, you are quite a handsome man.

— Was it you who brought me here? Snake asked, ignoring the stranger's comments about his naked body. After so many years working in a circus and showering outdoors, his own nudity didn't bother him.

— Ah yes! It was me. You seemed to need my help, he said, standing suddenly.

The snakes hissed again, warning the red-haired man not to come any closer.

— You have quite peculiar tastes in pets, I must say, very dangerous species, the man continued, approaching.

Snake could now make out his face, a fine oval with delicate features, but his cold green eyes — a mixture of earth and dust, like the skin of his snakes — chilled him to the bone. Glasses rested on his nose, although his sharp eyes seemed not to need them.

— I, myself, have a strong attraction to things that can cause violent, bloody deaths.

And the man smiled with sharp, pointed teeth.

Against his will, Snake took a step back.

— I appreciate your help, he said, reaching for his trousers, but never taking his eyes off the man approaching him. But I must leave now.

— Leave? The storm is raging, my young friend, and Phantomhive Manor is still far away.

Snake froze.

— But how…?

— I heard you cry out your desire for revenge against Ciel Phantomhive, the man interrupted.

Snake studied the red-haired figure smiling at him. So, he knew Smile.

The stranger leaned against the table and continued:

— Believe it or not, I also have to go to the manor… for business. Or rather for my work, because, you see…

He stood up and began pacing the room, emphasizing his speech with grand gestures.

— I'm expected at the manor because tonight, something is going to happen, and it requires my services! It's a beginner's job, but I requested this case. Luckily, William is on assignment right now, or I'm sure he would have objected to the higher-ups about giving me this case. He would have said I'm too personally involved, that it wouldn't be professional. But what does he know? I'm a professional too. I can handle my work without letting my personal issues interfere with my professionalism.

The tirade went on, and Snake realized this man really enjoyed the sound of his own voice to ramble on like this in front of a stranger. He took the opportunity to put on his trousers.

— And that's why! Snake froze as the red-haired man had stopped right in front of him.

— I'm going to accompany you to the manor because, apart from my mission, I have a score to settle with our dear Earl's butler.

— You want to come with me? murmured Snake, incredulous.

— Yes, you heard me right, blondie, he exclaimed, raising his arms in a theatrical gesture while stepping back. I'll go with you, and I'll even help you.

— But why would you do that? Snake asked as he gathered the rest of his clothes and headed toward the bed to sit down.

— We both want the same thing, he said, sitting back down on the chair near the table. To make the one-eyed brat and his butler suffer. That's a good reason to team up! But tell me, what do you have against that boy?

Snake buttoned up his striped shirt and said:

— People I cared about went to Phantomhive Manor one day. They never came back. And a few days before their departure to the manor, the Earl and that man in black came snooping around the circus we were part of. I want to know what happened to them in that manor.

The man froze for a moment, then a mischievous, almost childish laugh escaped through his closed lips.

— Why are you laughing? Snake exclaimed, humiliated that someone could find his friends' disappearance amusing.

— I'm laughing because you're naive. What happened to them is obvious. If Ciel and Sebastian came to investigate your friends, they're probably dead by now.

— How do you know? Snake shouted, standing up, fists clenched, his breath quickening.

— Ah…, the man sighed with amusement, but a shadow passed over his face. He straightened up, clasping his hands, then rested his elbows on the table, facing Snake.

Apparently, you don't know who we're dealing with.

He suddenly stood up and appeared on the bed behind Snake, too fast for human eyes to follow, and grabbed the boy, pulling him down against him on the mattress. Snake stifled a cry as powerful arms wrapped around his chest, preventing him from getting up. The fire in the fireplace went out suddenly, and the room was illuminated only by the moon. He felt the warmth of an unknown chest against his back. But why couldn't he feel a heartbeat?

Fear gripped his stomach as lips began to whisper in his ear:

— You don't know who your enemies are or what dark forces you were preparing to face alone tonight. Know this, my young and unconscious friend: your snakes are powerless against Ciel Phantomhive. Sure, their bites would be fatal for that brat, but as long as Sebastian Michaelis is by his side, none of your little reptiles will get near the Earl. And their venom is useless against Sebastian Michaelis. No mortal weapon can kill a demon.

— A demon? Snake murmured.

— Yes, a demon, a soul devourer. And for now, that demon has made a pact with the insolent boy, and he'll do anything to uphold his vow to devour the boy's soul.

Snake felt a cold sweat run through his body. A demon... His snakes had told him that "Black" had no scent, that his blood seemed as cold as theirs, and that his eyes weren't human. But the boy hadn't listened. And now, he had to avenge his friends against a demon. At that moment, his desire for revenge seemed impossible, and despair washed over him.

He saw Joker's smile again and felt his warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder. Doll had been so beautiful in the white costume Joker had made for her. He saw Wendy, still young, learning to jump from the trapeze. He watched her perform a somersault in the air and catch Peter's outstretched hands. She had let go of one of his hands and waved down at Snake, who was watching from below as she continued to swing in the air.

— Wendy, you're going to fall! Snake had shouted.

— I'm flying! Look, Snake, I'm flying!

All of them… so young, so imperfect, so wonderful. Tears rolled down his cheeks. What could he do against a demon? How could he honor their memory if he couldn't even avenge them? He was grateful for the unwavering embrace of the stranger's arms, keeping him from collapsing.

Searching for his voice, he murmured:

— Then I have no chance. I'll never be able to avenge them.

He felt the lips against his ear form a smile.

— Oh yes, you will. Don't worry, I'll help you. Now you're with me, Grell Sutcliff, the Shinigami.

The rain was falling harder now. Snake sat on the bed, his back against the wall, one leg stretched out on the mattress. He listened to his companion, the Shinigami, talk about their enemies.

— You have to understand that for Sebastian, nothing is more important than Ciel Phantomhive. The boy's life is more important than his own. When we fought, Grell smiled tightly, as if the memory brought him some irrepressible pleasure, he even sacrificed an arm for the kid. And despite my superiority, he didn't hesitate to attack me again on his master's orders.

Grell paused, running his gloved finger over his lips, thoughtful.

— There was so much blood. Sebastian was delightful, smeared in red.

— So, the Shinigami said, standing up, if I want to make Sebastian Michaelis suffer, I have to take away what he holds most dear: his precious master, Ciel Phantomhive. But I must confess something to you: I'm not sure I can kill him. He's incredibly tenacious. But I can hurt him enough to keep him in a weakened state while you take care of the insolent boy. Your snakes will be useful to make him suffer. Is death slow?

— Slow... it depends, Snake said, stroking the neck of the snake wrapped around his leg. About one to five minutes. It's short. But when you feel the poison burning in your veins, your lungs swelling, your throat tightening, your heart seizing up, while your whole body is gripped by violent, painful convulsions… I think those five minutes feel like an eternity.

— Excellent... Grell murmured, his eyes gleaming.

— But is that enough? the boy burst out, boiling with hatred, his face contorted. I don't just want to kill Ciel Phantomhive. I want to destroy everything he has! His reputation, his position, his status, his fortune. What I want is to tarnish his memory and drag his name through the mud. I want the fall of the Phantomhives!

Silence fell between the two companions, with only Snake's ragged breathing breaking the stillness. Grell appeared deep in thought, impassive, but his eyes danced furiously in their sockets. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips. He approached the boy and sat abruptly on the bed beside him.

— My friend, you've just given me an idea! he said to Snake, who recoiled, troubled by the Shinigami's proximity. If you want the downfall of the Phantomhives, I can help you orchestrate a huge scandal.

He stood up and planted himself in front of the bed, as if he were a great actor about to recite a monologue to an attentive audience.

— Listen closely. Tonight, the Earl is hosting a party, a special dinner for the Queen, or more specifically, for the Queen's designated guest.

He pulled a large book from his coat, flipped through a few pages, traced some lines with his finger, then declared:

— His name is Siemens, Georg von Siemens.

He put the book away and refocused his attention on the boy.

— He's my mission. Know that young Phantomhive isn't exactly in the Queen's good graces at the moment. I didn't get all the details, but according to what Ronald Knox, a very chatty but useful colleague, told me, Ciel Phantomhive and his demon butler have gone a bit too far on the last mission the Queen gave them.

Snake was about to react to the Shinigami's words, but Grell interrupted him:

— No, their "overstepping" doesn't concern your friends. But as I said, they're dead.

Paying no attention to Snake's hurt expression, Grell continued:

— So, the Queen had this evening organized by the Earl so that he could make up for his mistake.

— But how do you know all this?

— We, shinigamis, we know everything! exclaimed Grell, as if offended. Or rather, we know all the information regarding the final days of the person whose soul we are to take. How else would we know why they have to die, how, and where? The rest of their life, we learn from the cinematic lantern, but that's none of your concern. In any case, my mission is Georg von Siemens, and I know why he's at Phantomhive Manor tonight.

— When you say this man is your mission...?

— I mean he has to die tonight, declared Grell as if it were obvious.

— But why?

— That's just the way it is, that's the life of men, Grell hissed, exasperated. Too much alcohol, too much food, too many women, and then it's a heart attack.

— You deal with heart attacks? Snake asked, eyes widening.

— We collect all souls, but as I said, it's a job for a beginner, not a shinigami of my rank. I insisted on taking it simply because the condemned person happened to be at Phantomhive Manor, which brings me closer to Sebastian.

— Very well, but how is your "mission" going to be useful to us?

— I'm getting to that, stop interrupting me! Tonight, Lord Siemens is supposed to die of a heart attack in his room, and I know roughly the time it will happen.

— How do you know he'll die in his room? Snake dared to ask once again.

— We have approximate locations, explained Grell lazily, brushing off Snake's question with a dismissive wave, visibly frustrated by being interrupted again. But since the old fool drinks a lot despite not being able to handle alcohol, and dies late at night, he'll probably be sleeping off his wine in his room when the heart attack strikes.

He then suddenly turned towards Snake, an evil smile spreading across his lips.

— But what if I made his death look like something other than a heart attack? If I staged his death as a murder? A stab wound on a dying man's body is so easy. Imagine, a murder, in an isolated manor during a storm, at an official reception... I could even plunge the blade just enough so that it could be inferred that the blow was struck with the weak hand of a young boy...

Grell laughed, a sinister laugh that echoed off the cold walls of the room.

— What a humiliation for young Earl Phantomhive, to see his guest of honor, a guest requested by the Queen, murdered in his own home! He'd lose the Queen's favor because he'll never be able to catch the killer. You can't catch a shinigami to present as guilty before the Queen. The Earl would have to answer for the crime before the Queen, something he'll never be able to do, murmured Grell, because he'll be dead.

Snake straightened up, a bright gleam shining in his eyes. He was smiling.

— And the demon? Snake asked, hesitating.

— I'll take care of the demon. Once he's alone, he's mine. I might not be able to kill him, I already told you that. But I'll weaken him enough for you to slip one of your snakes into Ciel Phantomhive's room without him interfering.

Grell turned towards the window, where the wind could be heard howling over the plains, and murmured:

— After that, whether he dies or not, I don't care. As long as he loses what he desires most in the world.

— When do we leave? Snake asked.

Grell opened the window, and thunder rumbled as the wind battered the shutters and rain lashed into the room in noisy bursts.

— Now.

End of Chapter 5

Author's Notes :The title is still related to chess, and this chapter focuses on Grell and Snake, so I apologize to those who were hoping for a chapter on Sebastian, Ciel, and Arthur, but this one isn't dedicated to them. Don't worry, I miss them too, and I'll write the next part soon, because even though this chapter was fun to write, it didn't require as much… "emotional overflow." This chapter is more cerebral, explaining how Snake and Grell became partners and how they devised their attack plan.

Hence the title "The White Fool's Diagonal" because the diagonal refers to the movement of the bishop in chess, which corresponds to the plan of the two white fools in my story. Yes, I told you, this chapter is a bit cerebral and explains the previous events.