Coattails

by The-Pied-Avocet

Adolescence is the dormant rose of winter: a prickled, ugly, tangled mess of vines and thorns, with flowers promised only in the distant spring. "Spring" seems so far off to the demon that must console his angry, hurting charge in the midst of puberty - but it will come, and not without a price that they both must pay.

28. The Muster

A "muster" is when a herd of livestock are rounded up for any number of important reasons, one of which is to check their health.

---

Summer had always been generous to the manor grounds. The persistent rains of spring would turn the grass and trees a shade of green that seemed to sing with health — which was sometimes the truth, when the birds freckled the lawn and branches in search of seeds and insects. The air hummed with life, the gardens spilled over with it, and the sun hung ripe in the sky like a globe of nectar. It was an Eden, or so some visitors said, and Sebastian would smirk to himself whenever the compliment touched his ear. Humans of this country considered God their divine creator and yet knew His way was the thorny path while the devil's was fringed in wildflowers. So who truly understood the cultivation of nature best? Neither God nor demon, in reality — but the divine were always happy to take the credit of humans and of Mother Nature.

Such things mattered not. To the boy in the cab of the carriage Sebastian rode in front of, this demon's Eden could only ever be one thing: home.

August tended to be one of South England's fairest months, with less rain than the rest of the year and more agreeable temperatures than July. It was no exception now either: the stirring wind was the only giveaway that something could be on the horizon. But Sebastian knew better than to doubt Tanaka's foresight. Within twenty-four hours, he was sure the tempest would be upon them.

As they tottered down the path to the front gates, Finny came bounding out from the tree-lined drive with all the graceless charm of a family dog. "Hooray! The young master and Mr. Sebastian are home!" he cried out in greeting. He kept pace with the carriage easily once he made it to their side, practically skipping along. "It's always best when everybody is home together! Because then I know that everybody is safe."

Bard put the reins in one hand and leaned far out of the driver's seat to ruffle Finny's hair. "Heya, Finn. Did you manage to get the tarps pulled over the herb garden okay?"

"Mhm! And I put burlap over the rose bushes and anchored the citrus trees, too!" Finny reported, and made a sound of delight when that earned him another pat on the head, though he added, "Or did I anchor the roses and put burlap over the trees…? Oh, well! Mr. Sebastian is home now, so he can just correct aaaall my mistakes!"

"Oy, Finny! That isn't the way to go about things! Have a bit of integrity, y'know?"

"Ehhh, but Bard, didn't you say when you dripped batter inside the oven that Mr. Sebastian could take care of it too?"

Bard's shoulders jumped. "Huh! I didn't—! I didn't say anything like that! Sebastian, are you hearing this cheek? Psst, hey Finny, what did I tell you about ratting me out so easily…"

Finny simply laughed. "It's always better to be honest, Bard! You know Sebastian will just find out later, because he always finds out about everything we do wrong!"

As Bard grinned sheepishly under Sebastian's dry glare, the carriage window opened with a soft clatter. "Finny," Ciel called out, and the gardener was at his beck in moments. "Run ahead and bring Mey-Rin and Tanaka to the foyer. I have something to give to each of you."

This was met with bubbling excitement. "Ohh, something to give us! That's so nice, wow, aren't we so lucky! I'll go get them right away!"

Finny made to dash off on his errand, but Bard stopped him with his voice before he could make it very far. "Hey, Finn, hold up. Just get Mey-Rin, okay? Tanaka needs to rest today."

That alteration was met with a long stare. "But Bard, the young master told me that I should get both of them."

Bard's eyes stayed trained on the path ahead. "I know, I heard him. But Tanaka isn't feelin' well, so let's leave him alone for now, right?"

Finny differed from the other servants in quite a few respects. One of those respects was in how seriously he took Ciel's word. The young master was always in charge, of course, but if Ciel ever gave an uncertain or contradictory order, Mey-Rin and Bard were content to turn to Sebastian for clarification. But when Finny received direct word from Ciel, he wouldn't accept changes in plan from anyone but Ciel. As the gardener jogged alongside the carriage digesting Bard's words, Sebastian watched Finny's large green eyes lose their gentle sheen at the suggestion that he ignore what the young master said. It was the same expression that overcame Finny whenever there was a threat to the manor; whenever he was blindly, almost absently, taking a life with his Herculean strength.

But Bard was of course no real threat, so the haunted look fast faded into doe-eyed curiosity. Finny drifted back to the cab once more. "Young master, Bard says that Tanaka needs to rest right now. Would you like me to fetch him anyway?"

Sebastian heard the carriage window open again. "He's resting? No, if that's the case, just get Mey-Rin. I'll see Tanaka later."

"Okay~! Sure thing!" With that confirmation, Finny bolted past the horses at top speed, loose turf flying out from under his heels as he went. At this rate, he'll wear clean through his shoes again…

The carriage itself was at the front drive only a minute later. Sebastian lowered the step and opened the door, but instead of walking straight into the house, Ciel approached Bard as he was removing the luggage from the boot. "What's the matter with Tanaka? Does he need a doctor?" the boy asked.

Bard put down a particularly heavy suitcase with a thud and a sigh. "No, I don't think he needs a doctor. But the weather is making his rheumatism act up, so I told him he should take it easy."

That answer made Ciel smile and chuckle gently. "I bet it was difficult to convince him. If it's just rheumatism, he's fine, actually. He told me once that it really only bothers him a little. He certainly doesn't need to be sent to his room like a sick child."

Bard returned the smile, though behind it was frank gentleness instead of humor. "Well, I'm not sure how long ago he told you that, sir, but these things change with age, and Tanaka ain't gettin' any younger. It looked like it was causin' him some bother, so I let him know we'd be fine if he wanted to lie down. He didn't seem to need any more convincing than that." Bard paused. "Rest'll do him good, young master. You'll see. He just needs to keep from movin' his joints too much."

"I know that," Ciel mumbled quickly. He turned to the house. "Anyway, I want you to come inside too before you put the carriage away. It'll only take me a minute or so to give you your gifts, so the horses will be fine to wait."

"Gifts, huh? Well, that was awfully thoughtful. Thanks, young master."

Ciel had already started up the front steps, one hand clamping down on the brim of his top hat to keep the persistent winds from immediately carrying it off, the other clutching at the collar of his coat. Even Sebastian, so unaffected by temperature, was as useless in this form as a mortal when it came to wind. By the time he and Bard had unloaded the luggage and box of goods from the marketplace, he was beginning to feel buffeted and rumpled and ready to get inside. He picked up the box and two of the four suitcases, only to notice Bard had the other two in his hands.

Sebastian frowned. "Surely you know I can carry all of these. I don't require any assistance."

Bard raised an eyebrow at him, smirking around his unlit cigarette. "C'mon, Sebastian, we all know you're the resident strongman. But how d'you think I'd look walking in with you carrying all this and me empty-handed? Don't answer that. Just let me take somethin' and be done with it."

Sebastian blinked as Bard started the climb, before giving a smirk of his own, half-exasperated. Really, such pointlessness… It would be easier for the both of them if Sebastian was simply allowed to handle this on his own. But fine, so be it. Let Bard play at feeling useful, if it made him happy. It was sort of… touching, in its own peculiar way. Besides, there was one final parcel Bard didn't know about, and Sebastian reached into the cab of the carriage to retrieve the hatbox now.

Ciel was standing in the foyer with Bard, waiting, when Sebastian came to join them. Finny and Mey-Rin scampered in only half a minute later, Mey-Rin offering a hasty bow and a cheery, "Oh, welcome home, young master! We're so glad to have you back, we are!"

"I'm hearing it's Sebastian that may be the real pleasure to have back," Ciel said, giving a half-smile as he eyed Bard from his periphery. "You really fixed the household overcooked pancakes every day…?"

Bard hunched, embarrassed. "Th-There were sandwiches too! And I tried to make some scrambled eggs…"

"The sandwiches were built from Mr. Sebastian's leftovers, though," Mey-Rin said.

Finny nodded. "And I still don't understand how you managed to burn the eggs but keep them runny."

"I-I thought if I added some oil and water, maybe they'd… reconstitute a little bit…" Bard explained when Ciel looked at him as if wondering the same thing. He hung his head. "I really did my best, if you can believe it."

Ciel had to snicker. "And I wonder what else I'd find, if I went sniffing around for it," he continued, making Mey-Rin and Finny's posture stiffen. "Are all the silly little delicate things that live on the tables still intact? Did the bedded flowers grow out to carpet the walkway? There's only one surprise left in the world when it comes to what you three are capable of, and that would be if nothing had gone wrong at all."

Finny scratched at the back of his neck. "I did mix up the rosemary and the lavender, so… I harvested the rosemary flowers and lavender leaves instead of the other way around…"

Mey-Rin poked her fingertips together. "A-And I mistook the lampblack for rottenstone powder and polished the mahogany furniture in the library with it…"

Their sins admitted, the two of them became as wilted as Bard. "We're so sorry, young master…"

That's all well and good, but what about the apologies for me?! Sebastian could have knocked their heads together in utter exasperation. How were such mistakes even born… He'd be spending hours correcting these grievous errors, he was certain of that!

Ciel didn't laugh, but Sebastian did notice the boy's mouth clenching slightly with what might've been amusement. Somehow, Sebastian felt that sight taking the edge off of his displeasure. "That's about in-line with what I expected," Ciel said. "Anyway, it's not the end of the world, so enough feeling sorry for yourselves — it's time to cheer up. I have presents to give you."

"Oh boy, presents! The young master is the nicest ever, ever, ever~!" Finny clapped his hands.

Mey-Rin couldn't move past the moment so readily. "A-Are you sure we deserve them now, though, sir…?"

Ciel busied himself opening up the hatbox. "Your moral standing is for you to decide, not me. Anyway, catch." One of the Maharaja Bitter Rabbits was then extracted from the round box and tossed abruptly in Bard's direction.

"Whoa!" Though he fumbled it a bit, Bard eventually managed to hold onto the toy by its plump haunch. "Eh, what've we here? Which one is this guy?"

"It's Bitter Rabbit!" Finny gasped when his own toy was volleyed to him. He hugged it tightly enough that the stuffing bulged at the seams, but not so tightly that Funtom's strong stitching couldn't hold, fortunately. "Aww, he's sooo cute! I love his little clothes!"

Ciel had accidentally thrown Mey-Rin's too high and too much to the left, but she snatched it out of the air with uncalculated ease, then held it gently between her palms. "Oh, my! He's so soft!" She rubbed a thumb along its plush cheek. "Ohhh, what a dapper fellow he is! Dressed as fine as I've ever seen a rabbit, yes indeed!"

"These were never claimed at the Funtom convention," Ciel explained as each servant reacted in their own way to the dolls. "That means they're a collector's item. Only three hundred were ever made and they'll never be made again. And they may sell for a lot of money someday. In ten or twenty years, you can pawn them off and make a pretty penny."

"Pawn him off?! I couldn't possibly do that!" Finny clutched his rabbit all the more closely. "I'm going to keep him for the rest of my life and never sell him no matter what!"

Mey-Rin nodded. "Me too, yes! I would never get rid of something so special, not for any amount of money."

"Oh. Well, I guess I'd better say that too, then, huh?" Bard chuckled. At Finny and Mey-Rin's immediate scolding, he cried above them, "I'm joking, it's a joke, settle down! I don't want to sell mine either, so there's no need to yap at me. Anyhow, it's a real thoughtful thing, givin' these to us of all people, young master. Thanks."

Ciel shrugged. "I honestly don't care what any of you decide to do with them. Keep them, sell them, throw them in the corner to gather dust. They're yours now, so it's up to you."

Sebastian felt a warmth growing in him that he thought was reserved for the young master, though he supposed it was still in relation to the young master. The servants may have damaged the garden and ruined the furniture and wasted food while they were on their own, but those were tests Sebastian had expected them to fail. The test they had passed was the more important one, and that was in the way they showed appreciation for their new gifts and for the boy that had brought them. Ciel claimed he didn't care what they did, but Sebastian didn't doubt that the servants' unbridled joy had been a gift all its own. It was honest, after all.

"Now, on to business," Ciel said, and the trio stopped fooling around to listen. "The wind picking up and Tanaka's intuition are sure signs that a storm is on the way. We need to make certain the manor is prepared to endure it. I'm sure Sebastian will have more direct orders for all of you, but I have some of my own regarding the horses. Finny, it sounds like you've already gotten far into weatherproofing the garden. When you're finished, I want you to go and hand-lead Sysonby around the grounds for an hour or two. I'd ride him myself, but I'm feeling stiff from the carriage and I don't want to deal with the wind. Bard can fit him with a halter and lead rope for you. And don't be afraid to keep him moving at a good clip, as long as the earth isn't loose. I want him worn out so that he doesn't pitch too much of a tantrum when he has to be cooped up for a few days."

Finny saluted. "O-kay! Sure thing!"

"Bard, I want your opinion on what to do with Avalon," Ciel said next; Bard blinked in surprise, as usual never expecting to be sought out for his advice. "Do you think it would be better to exhaust him, like Syson, or do you think he should be brought to his stall now and given some sweet feed so he can settle in before the others have to join him? And how do you think he'll do spending at least a few days in his stall without a break?"

Bard scratched his stubble. "Well… He's doin' better and better lately, as you know. Seems like restin' in his stall has nearly gone back to bein' routine for him. If the storm takes a while to pass and he starts climbin' the walls, so to speak, I can always let him hang out in the aisle for a bit. In any case, for today I'll finish up the usual drills and then just let him graze with the others, so they all get a last bit a' sunshine, if that sounds fine to you, sir."

Ciel nodded. "Very good. Then, that's all I have to say. Sebastian's in charge when it comes to preparing the rest of the house."

Sebastian took a step forward and didn't dally for an instant. "Mey-Rin, please bring the majority of your rifles indoors and cover the rest so that they are protected from the elements. While you do that, I will inspect the state of the house's chimneys and clean the flues. After I'm finished, I'm counting on you to clean out the ashes and scour the walls of all fifteen of our fireplaces. We'll be very reliant on them these next few days, so they must be cleaned to the utmost. With that in mind, Finny, before you tend to Sysonby, bring as much dry firewood as you can to the log racks by the tradesmen entrance. Cover the green wood with a tarp so the rain doesn't spoil it. Bard, after you put away the carriage but before you tend to Avalon, unload the produce I've just purchased and make sure our supply of non-perishables is stocked enough to last us at least ten days. If there is anything we're in need of, leave a note on the pantry door within the next hour. As for myself, I will be taking care of the chimneys, as I stated, alongside the manor exterior, including the remainder of the gardens. Is everyone certain of their orders?"

"Yes, sir!" the three said in unison.

"Get working, then. You're dismissed," Ciel said, and the loyal hounds scattered to their errands. With the crate of foodstuff left for Bard to deal with, Sebastian was able to gather up the five pieces of luggage on his own, hooking the hatbox with its remaining doll in his only free hand before following the young master up the main staircase to his bedroom.

When they arrived only a minute later, Sebastian put the luggage down and knelt to begin unpacking it. Ciel sighed contentedly and stretched his arms above his head and started removing his tweed Ulster coat, but he didn't say anything. This gave space for Sebastian to ask, "How are you feeling right now, young master?"

Ciel turned around slowly, bearing an aggravated grin. He wrenched his arm free from a gray sleeve and tossed his coat on the bed. "I'm fine. Why are you asking me that again? You already asked me when I woke up, and then earlier when you served lunch, too. Just what changes are you expecting between now and then?"

"I don't mean to sound expectant, necessarily," Sebastian answered. He took his attention off the luggage and twisted around to face Ciel, though he kept his kneel. "However, you may recall the goal we decided on together to help you become more aware of your feelings. That doesn't mean you have to tell me what your feelings are. But it does mean you can count on me to ask you what you're feeling at regular intervals."

Ciel folded his arms over his waistcoat. "I can count on you to be as annoying as ever, you mean. Why don't you just calm down and wait for me to tell you something on my own?"

Sebastian pitted his most patient expression against the very impatient one he was being shot now. Even though Ciel had agreed to try and become more honest about his emotions just under a week ago, it was very easy for the boy to forget that, it seemed. Emotional honesty was new, and it was scary, and so Ciel wanted to worm his way out of it and blame Sebastian all in the same breath. But Sebastian remembered Agni's lessons, and he kept them as close as a lifeline in these moments when Ciel attempted to wrestle away the control: Bring his emotional needs to his attention in obvious ways; tell him it will help him take care of himself; he will prefer not having to request things of his own volition.

"Consider it this way, young master," Sebastian began. "If I am asking you how you are feeling at least a few times a day, you will never have to concern yourself with broaching the topic, nor with the responsibility of making time for your own sadness and anger. Instead, I will take on that responsibility. All you would have to do is decide whether or not you want to speak your mind. Does that help you to reconcile with it?"

Sebastian took the frustrated snort and turning-away of Ciel's chin as a sign of concession. "Fine, fine, all right… But I'm not stupid, you know. You're being pointed with your timing, I know you are. You're expecting me to have something to tell you. Why is that?"

No, the young master wasn't stupid. All the same, Sebastian had imagined he'd be more aware. Was Ciel really so far divorced from his own feelings that he truly couldn't identify a reason that Sebastian would ask him, or did he want to pretend that he didn't know why Sebastian would ask? Either way, perhaps some spelling-out was in order. "I can think of several reasons why you might have something to say, my lord. For starters, I know you weren't expecting to go anywhere today, so traveling home may have brought on some frustration. Next, you had to comfort Soma, and you even hugged him on your own for what I think may be the first time I've ever witnessed. And now you've just been told Tanaka isn't feeling well, and that may be a bit scary considering his age. But you may also feel apprehensive to speak with him because of the argument the two of you had before we left for London."

As Sebastian talked, he watched Ciel's face slowly lose its surety until it became an uncontested case of bewilderment. His Dalles blood shone in more than just the apples of his cheeks: it was an expression entirely reminiscent of his Aunt Ann's nearly two years ago, when Sebastian read off to her the list of alibis he'd gathered from Jack the Ripper suspects. Ciel's high color seemed to come from a place of shock and guilt all the same. "Why the hell are you thinking about all that?" the boy finally asked.

It had been amusing to see Madam Red so disoriented back then, but this wasn't the response Sebastian wanted today. "Because those recent events are all relevant to how you may be feeling, young master."

Ciel glared from the side of his eye. He still looked uncertain. "I know that," he said carefully. "I only think it's odd that you knew all that."

So this had been another impromptu test — though it seemed to have been one Ciel had no expectations for Sebastian to pass. He didn't look happy that Sebastian had passed, either. Sebastian decided he didn't want to dwell on this aspect. "Well, now that all is out in the open, would you like to tell me how you're feeling?"

Ciel continued to glare. One of his folded arms dropped. "I feel like I want you to leave me alone," he huffed.

Oh. Sebastian's shoulders fell. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he tried hopefully.

That only seemed to bolster Ciel's resolve. "Yes, I'm sure that's what I want," he snapped. "At least after you get something more comfortable for me to wear than my travel clothes. Something I can lay about the house in. And don't bother me again until it's time for afternoon tea, all right?"

Sebastian left the room a mere four minutes later, feeling as confused as he ever did these days. He allowed himself a sigh. There would be time for reflection later, when he cleaned the chimneys. But it occurred to him that before he ventured to the rooftop, he should go downstairs to the servants' quarters and see how Tanaka was faring.

At the first knock, Tanaka granted clear permission to enter, revealing he hadn't been asleep. He was laying in bed in his uniform, strangely enough, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as the door was opened. "Welcome back, Sebastian," he said with a smile that lifted his cheeks pleasantly up to his eyes. "It's good to have you home. I do believe the others will be in need of your direction, especially given my current state."

"Yes, I think you are right." Sebastian smiled back, closing the door behind him. "It's troublesome to hear you aren't feeling at your best."

"It isn't as bad as it seems," Tanaka assured him. "I don't doubt I could push through with relative ease if circumstances required it, but if there is anything I've learned over the years, it's that it is always better to attend one's needs at the slightest protest than to wait until there is no choice left but to listen."

Sebastian bowed his head slightly. "That is sound advice."

"It is advice that I find few people are happy to take," Tanaka said. "I think it is a lesson that most have to learn on their own." His smile turned more knowing. "It is a lesson that I believe our young master is learning right now, in his own way, yes?"

Tanaka's perceptive ability had always gone far beyond that of interpreting storms. Again, Sebastian reflected the look. "I do believe he is."

Tanaka nodded with understanding. He gestured out to his desk chair. "Why don't you take a seat," he said, "and tell me about how you are doing?"

Sebastian felt his smile slip. He nearly balked. Tell Tanaka about himself? How very… human. What was Tanaka expecting here? For this to be something Sebastian did easily, something he even looked forward to? Sebastian had made it clear early on in their relationship that any variety of personal conversation held no interest to him, and the clairvoyant Tanaka had never pushed such subjects again — at least not until recently, when Sebastian began tending to the young master's emotions. It made Sebastian feel unpleasant, to be noticed for his potential struggles and not his successes. How he would much rather keep his vulnerabilities to himself…

Ah. And did the young master feel any differently when Sebastian asked him this very same question? A clear case of not-so-divine intervention seemed to be unfolding. You ought to first learn the lessons you're so eager to impart or be labeled the hypocrite that you are.

So, deciding to put his most curious foot forward, Sebastian crossed the room and sat tall in the chair.

"Well," he began dubiously, "I am feeling rather unenlightened around the young master nowadays. Sometimes when I speak with him, he only seems more upset afterwards than he did before. He is definitely wary of me. My efforts to change that opinion have seen little progress thus far."

Tanaka looked entirely unsurprised by this, possibly even pleased. "That must feel very frustrating," he said gently. "Don't let yourself become too deterred. The young master's stubbornness isn't a sign that you're failing. If anything, it may be a sign that you're on the right track."

"As you say," Sebastian half-laughed. From that boy, stubbornness could mean just about anything. "Half the time it feels as if I'm on the wrong track, however."

"Half the time is very impressive, you know!" Tanaka chuckled. "Every time I've attempted to convince the young master to be honest with me, I've been turned away. But I never take it to heart — and neither should you. The important thing is that you're trying."

Trying was the important thing, hmm? That was hard to believe. It was one thing to try and make the perfect curry a hundred times over; the stakes were low, the consequences for failure small. It was another thing to try and teach a very hurt and very vigilant boy to trust the demon who had haunted him for years to be his parent. The smallest mistake could result in a major setback. And Sebastian refused to believe the solution for anything other than Funtom's curry came in the form of chocolate (much as Ciel might want it to be).

"I know that may sound rather backwards to you," Tanaka continued, as if he could read his fellow butler's thoughts. "You are a perfectionist and you are very adept at picking up new skills, so you are accustomed to easily attainable success. But success need not always be measured in terms of a situation going the way you want it to. Some of the most valuable lessons I have learned came from making mistakes — such lessons are why I am choosing to rest today. You might just be surprised at the lessons you'll gather through error, too."

Surprised? What an understatement. Sebastian felt he would be downright astonished if making mistakes taught him more than being successful did. But… maybe he shouldn't be astonished at this point. Sebastian knew he had learned from his mistakes before — he just hadn't learned that he'd learned from them, apparently. He was pretty accomplished at ignoring life lessons that didn't seem interesting. Mistakes were such mortal things. He didn't like to consider them.

"Sebastian! Sebaaastian! We collected the green wood like you said but the log pile's fallen in and all the wood got mixed together!"

And yet, for more than four years he'd had no choice but to consider them.

Sebastian stood, his long legs bringing him back to the height and view he was accustomed to. "I suppose that is my cue to depart."

Tanaka conceded with a bob of his head. "And do you happen to think I may have another visitor today? It is, admittedly, the only reason I have stayed in my uniform all this time."

Sebastian opened the door but offered a final raise of his eyebrows to signify his opinion on the matter. "I imagine that you will. I can fortunately say with confidence that my skills in persuasion need no buffing."

---

"You know, young master, you were exactly right about Mr. Tanaka."

Ciel looked up from the latest Johanna Spyri book that he'd been picking his way through. Sebastian had just finished assembling the coffee table with all the fixings for tea: a bergamot blend mixed with lavender-leaf simple syrup, and molasses spice biscuits on the side. He responded to the boy's attention with an obliging expression. "His rheumatism is not troubling him greatly. He is simply resting because he feels it would only worsen if he were to ignore the pain. You know him quite well."

After a moment, Ciel dog-eared his page and tossed the slim little children's book onto a cushion. "I'm glad to hear he's feeling well enough," he said carefully. He'd kicked off his button boots sometime before Sebastian had entered (Without even unbuttoning them all the way, really now…), and he curled his stocking feet up on the sofa beside him like a cat wrapping its tail around its body. "He's game to have visitors, then?"

Sebastian offered him a teacup and saucer, laughing under his breath at the informal language. "I'm sure he is 'game,' yes."

Ciel accepted the drink. "All right. Then I'll check in on him for myself after tea." Very good, just as expected; Sebastian was glad to hear it. And he wondered if he was about to hear Ciel ask for advice on how to talk to Tanaka after the argument they'd had, but instead— "Why are you just standing there? Don't you have a lot of work you need to get back to?"

Well, that wasn't exactly untrue. "I do indeed, yes. But I'm not in so much of a hurry that I can't ask if you will be needing anything else?"

Ciel paused to think, then smirked broadly, wickedly. "Will you? "

Sebastian blinked in surprise. "Pardon, sir?"

Ciel continued to look at him like a fox that had robbed a henhouse. "Don't you need to ask me how I'm feeling? "

It was phrased as a joke, Sebastian knew, but he wouldn't treat it like one, just in case it held even a grain of suppressed need for comfort. He folded his arms behind his back and bowed forward the slightest bit and cocked his chin to the side to look at the boy less directly. "Young master. How are you feeling?" he asked.

"..." Ciel's glee faded to disillusionment with the slow suddenness of watercolor absorbing into paper. He sipped at his tea, his shrewd gaze considering his butler. "Never mind. Mocking you isn't any fun when you make it too easy."

"Ah. What good luck I've found." Then Sebastian frowned, again sighting the button boots lying haphazardly, their gleaming calfskin leather resembling two seal heads coming up for breath — only instead of an ocean they appeared to be surfacing the Isfahan rug. Sebastian scooped them up and deposited the pair next to the sofa. "I don't suppose I could implore you to take better care of your new footwear for the short while it may fit you? You did say that you were fond of these. The buttonholes could stretch and tear if you don't undo the buttons before removing them."

Ciel groaned, letting his head roll backwards. "But it's hard to redo all the buttons without a hook, it hurts my fingers… I just wanted it to be a bit easier when I put them back on," he whined.

Sebastian barely restrained himself from chuckling. Ciel was being quite amusing, almost cute. It made all feel forgiven. "Well, they are your shoes. If that's how it pleases you to treat them, then I shall keep my thoughts to myself."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "A good butler is meant to keep his thoughts to himself. Yet that's the bit you've always refused to do."

Sebastian grinned and opened his mouth, but before he could put forth a quip, there was a tumbling crash from the hallway, followed by Mey-Rin's distressed cry of, "Oh no! Not all the soot! Oh no! "

If that really was all the soot, 'oh no' has to be an understatement… Sebastian turned his retort into a sigh and began towards the door to assess this latest setback. Ciel was quick to bid him off with jeers of, "So now you're a good butler who keeps his thoughts to himself! What's the matter? Singing for your supper isn't very pleasant when you don't get to choose the song? And what a pity, I bet this is a song I'd like for once. Does it happen to go, 'When a demon butler's duty's to be done, poor Sebastian's lot is not a happy one'?"※

Sebastian put his hand on the doorknob but had to turn a final time to look fondly at the boy. "You are quite funny, aren't you?" he said, as if realizing it for the first time.

Ciel made a face. "Funny how? That's a joke at your expense, idiot."

A final chuckle. "Do call me if you need anything more, sir."

"Whatever, damn demon."

---

The rain's first drops started to fall at five p.m. When Sebastian finished clearing the drainpipes at six p.m., he was drenched through. The day's tasks had been as much a figurative slog as they had been literal, not helped by the servants' constant blunders. There had been so much to do that Sebastian had barely been able to cook dinner for the household and finish all the storm preparations, but by nine o'clock that night he was content that everything was finally as good as it was going to get. Now bone dry and perfectly pristine once more, Sebastian brought the steaming milk tea to Ciel's room.

"Goodness, what a day," he sighed after greeting the boy. "I must admit, our chat shall be a fresh breath after everything this storm has wrought. I am quite ready to consider something other than housework. So, do tell me, how was the rest of your afternoon, sir?"

Ciel was already sitting in bed in his pajamas. It reminded Sebastian of that Shrove Tuesday in mid-February when their relationship first began to shift; when Ciel had sought to remove Sebastian from his nighttime routine and would dress himself for sleep but leave his clothes strewn around the floor in disarray, so the articles would need to be washed or at least ironed before they could be worn a second time. Now, Sebastian was pleasantly surprised to see that Ciel had draped today's clothes over the footboard. Maybe the earlier lesson about taking care of his shoes had sunk in — or maybe he meant to avoid giving Sebastian extra work when there had been so much to do already? Either way, the gesture was poignant.

Ciel didn't grant it any acknowledgement. He took the cup from Sebastian with one hand and nested it in the palm of the other to feel its warmth. He sipped from it immediately; Sebastian always served it at the ideal temperature, so Ciel never needed to fear scalding his tongue. "I talked to Tanaka," he began without fanfare. "About the way I scolded him before we left for London."

Sebastian finally recognized the boy was a little subdued. He sat at the end of the bed to show he was ready to listen. "How did it go, then?" he asked.

"... Okay, I guess." Ciel looked into his cup like it was a wishing well he'd dropped his last coin into. "I apologized for talking to him the way I did, and he said I didn't have anything to apologize for. But I do, really. I spoke to him like he was a servant making demands of his master, but he's always meant more to the Phantomhives than that, and he was just trying to show that he was worried about me. I shouldn't have snapped at him." Ciel sighed. "I said as much to him, and then he apologized… He said that I've made it clear many times that I don't like to talk about personal subjects with him and he should have respected my privacy… And you know how Tanaka is, he didn't say it like he was trying to make me feel guilty. Which of course is the thing that's making me feel guilty about it all."

"Why do you think that it's making you feel guilty?" Sebastian asked.

Ciel considered this briefly. "Why do you think it's making me feel guilty?" he decided to parry.

Sebastian paused. Another test — a curious one, too. Ciel usually hated when Sebastian put words in his mouth or made any assumptions about his mood. But there was a direct invitation to guess… Sebastian simply had to hope it wasn't another trap. "I… imagine you might feel guilty because Tanaka has offered his ear without any ulterior motive and you've refused him."

"Just the opposite of you," Ciel said, haughty. "You want to listen to me because you're a busybody who can't stand not knowing absolutely everything."

Sebastian had to laugh. Ciel's old hypothesis was that Sebastian was 'trying to make him miserable when he least expected it.' Never have I been granted a stranger promotion. "That's one way of looking at it," Sebastian said while Ciel glared on. He put a hand to his chin. "Or it could be that we agreed to examine your emotions more closely together." When that was met with silence, Sebastian added calmly, "You have trouble remembering that at times, don't you?"

Ciel glanced to the side. "Honestly… sometimes I do." The boy swirled his drink around in a forced distraction. "I just really hate it when anyone asks me how I'm feeling," he finally grumbled. "It comes across the same as if you'd told me, 'What's the matter with you?' You ask first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and that's not so bad in comparison, but then you only seem to ask otherwise when you expect something to be wrong, and it makes me want to throw things at you."

"Well. Color me grateful that it hasn't yet come to violence," Sebastian said with a smirk; Ciel only returned him an irritated blink. "But that's a very good observation, young master. I didn't realize I had been doing that. With this in mind… Perhaps it would be better if all emotional discussions were scheduled, instead of being sprung upon you unsuspectingly. You can still tell me how you're feeling whenever you want, but perhaps I will only pose the question myself at an agreed-upon time, unless I feel you're in some sort of distress. How does that sound?"

Ciel grimaced and shrugged, looking at the blankets. "I hate it all the same, but I won't contest it. I mean… I did agree to this. And it's… better than nothing." He hesitated. "It's better than losing control," he added quickly, like he was trying to clarify.

Sebastian felt something in his chest swell. "Good work bringing yourself around," he said heartily. He put his hands on his knees. "Now then, when would you like me to ask you how you're feeling during the day? What about at afternoon tea?"

Ciel shook his head. "No, not at afternoon tea. I just want to relax then. Maybe… maybe at lunchtime."

"Lunchtime. Excellent. That is what we shall do going forward."

"Mm." Ciel held his empty cup for a moment before handing it over. "I'm going to do some reading for a bit, then."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Not more horror stories, is it?"

Ciel froze up briefly, as if just remembering the Arthur Doyle story from last night and not liking what he remembered. "No." Ciel reached to the bedside table for the same little book from that afternoon. "Uh, I mean, no… just more of this drivel. It may have the same author as Heidi, but I don't anticipate Ms. Spyri's latest is going to win over so many hearts. At the very least, I don't think Funtom's going to be making any toys based on it. I'll finish it anyway. It'll put me to sleep."

There's one relief. "Very good. Then, I'll leave the lamp beside you and continue my vigil over the fires."

Sebastian gave the room's own fireplace another log, a gentle prod, and a nod of approval at its cleanliness (his doing, not Mey-Rin's). Next, he took Ciel's clothes from the end of the bed, hanging some up and folding the rest over his arm to add to the washing pile, then bid, "Goodnight, young master" quietly, so as not to interrupt the reading, as he moved towards the door.

"Sebastian?"

He'd been noticed anyway. Sebastian paused mid-stride. "Yes, sir?" he turned to ask.

But Ciel was pausing now too. "... Never mind it."

Ah, too bad. "Very well, sir. I'll be back in a few hours to look after the fire. I hope by then sleep has found you."

"Mm."

Ciel went back to reading, and Sebastian went back into the hallway. What a shame that Ciel hadn't let him into his thoughts; it would have given him something to ponder while he went about his nightly duties. And there was surely plenty to do, but at least now he had the peace of mind that no servants were awake to ruin it. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

---

Three hours after Ciel had fallen asleep, the first rumbles of thunder began sounding in the distance. Sebastian heard them in the midst of rhythmically tending to seven of the manor's fifteen fireplaces — when he finished with the last, he had scarcely an hour to spare before the first one would be in need of tending again, and so the Sisyphean cycle continued all through the night.

By dawn's invisible arrival, the storm was in full swing. It spared them no theatrics. The gutters roared, the wind was a pack of wolves, and the sunless sky writhed like ink spreading through water. Summer was meeting an operatic death before their eyes and at their feet, but the season refused to exit-stage without first conducting its own symphony of riding valkyries.

"Ahhh! Mr. Sebastian! I need help!"

"Oh no! Oh, Mr. Sebastian, oh, it's terrible! Please hurry!"

"Ah, eh, Sebastian, wouldja come here real quick…"

Funny, he didn't recall any clowns showing up throughout the entire four parts of Der Ring des Nibelungen, and yet here they were vying for center stage.

Really, the first day of the storm wasn't so bad. Just little annoyances here and there: muddy footprints from Bard taking his smoke breaks outside the stable, cinders singeing the carpet when Mey-Rin tried to help with the fires, puddles of dirty water from Finny bringing in the logs. Nothing unusual, yet nothing desirable either. More hiccups on a day when things were already naturally out of the usual swing.

Ciel was the least of Sebastian's worries — well, really Ciel was the most of them lately, but he certainly didn't make himself a squeaky wheel that day. Checking in with the boy was the one 'chore' Sebastian had any interest in, too, yet Ciel mostly kept to himself. Their morning and lunch meetings were uneventful: Ciel had books to read, his own solitude to savor, and so when asked how he felt, there was nothing much to report. It was only when Sebastian fetched Ciel for dinner that a shift in mood was noticeable… and the definition for it was even more clear at bedtime. It was something between aggravation and insatiability, fastidiousness and discontent. Ciel was getting bored.

"The post won't come till the worst of this weather passes, nor can it be sent out, so I don't have anything to work on," Ciel fussed as Sebastian pulled back the covers. "How much longer do you think this storm is supposed to last? I'm already weary of it."

"As am I, I assure you," Sebastian sighed. "It's hard to say when the weather intends to clear up. Perhaps what we both need is a change of pace."

"And what do you suggest?" Ciel drawled in a way that said he didn't think Sebastian would have a decent answer.

Sebastian folded his arms behind his back. "Hmm… What would you think if I suggested that we keep each other company?"

Ciel stared at him. "You want me to follow you around and talk to you while you do your chores?"

"If you like, yes."

"That sounds like the most dull thing I can possibly imagine," said Ciel.

"Benevolent as ever, you are," said Sebastian.

Ciel scooted his body down in bed. "I'm not going to sit around and make idle conversation while you bag ashes for three hours," he huffed. "What good does that possibly do an earl? Next you're going to tell me I should give cleaning fireplaces a go."

Sebastian put a hand to his chin. "Now that would certainly be a change of pace."

"Ugh. Stop playing the comedian for once."

"Did I sound as if I was joking? I hadn't meant to."

He received another stare, then a huge eye roll for that. "Never mind, you're useless at this. I'll think of something on my own." Ciel turned over onto his side. "I'm going to sleep so I can put today behind me already. Don't bother with waking me in the morning, wait for my call. I want to sleep through as much of the day as I possibly can."

But Ciel didn't end up sleeping through much of the day at all. He woke up just after seven o'clock when a monolithic old tree in the surrounding wood was blown down with a crack as loud as any lightning strike. It put him in a foul mood that gave Sebastian a sense of foreboding. This sense only heightened when he returned to the office at noon to deliver lunch and Ciel fixed him with a smiling maw of clenched teeth.

"Sebastian, you're in luck." The boy's tone was thickly facetious. "I know exactly how I'm feeling today."

The plate of aioli-slathered toasts covered in broad-leaf endive and cold roast chicken was arranged on the desk. "Is that so, sir? Do tell me."

"I'm feeling," Ciel began, "as if I'd like to return to my lessons."

Hmm. "Such an unemotional statement seems like cheating the question, don't you think?" Sebastian said flatly.

"No, not really," Ciel said merrily.

But the fact that Ciel wanted to return to his lessons was ultimately a good thing. Other than a bit of dance and violin over the summer, Ciel hadn't asked about his studies since they'd shelved the practice in March. Now that he wanted to start them again all of his own accord, it seemed as good a time as any to try another one of Agni's instructions: You must spend time together, beyond your duties to him as a butler. Perhaps you could tutor Lord Ciel in a subject in place of one of his teachers.

So Sebastian continued, "Truthfully, I think that's a capital idea, young master. Do you have something in particular you'd like to learn?"

"Hm? I don't know. That doesn't matter." Ciel was nonchalant, cutting into the toast with his knife and fork as he spoke. "Just find out what the course work is for Weston's fourth years at the soonest opportunity and we'll copy that."

"Certainly, that's a good start," said Sebastian. "But, I wonder, wouldn't you like to learn something different this time around? Something not usually offered in college?"

Ciel had his mouth open for a bite, but lowered his silverware to scowl. "Something like how to clean a fireplace…?" he deadpanned.

"If that's what you wanted," Sebastian said. Ciel's eyelids only lowered more. "Come now, young master, what does it hurt to try and pick up a unique skill, or study something off the beaten path? There's a multitude of possibilities. You could try your hand at a craft, like book restoration or photograph tinting, or study a particular subject, like archeology or Egyptology."

That final statement made Ciel look briefly unnerved, though Sebastian really couldn't begin to guess why. "I don't want to learn any of that," he snapped. "I just want to learn what's expected of me so that I don't make a fool of myself at socials. I already have hobbies that I like. I have a business to run and land to manage. And you and I are already doing these… emotion-talks, or whatever you'd call them. What would I need to do anything else for?"

This was starting to look like a lost cause. "For fun, perhaps?"

"I don't want to do something for fun."

Again, Sebastian couldn't help chuckling. "Young master…"

Ciel had an opposite mien. "I'm not saying I don't like having fun," he explained. "I'm saying there's no point in wasting my time doing frivolous things unless they serve a secondary purpose, such as to relax or to amuse guests. You and I both know I'm not going to live very long, so why should I ever mess around? Taking up a difficult hobby, studying extraneously… It'll just end up being useless, so I don't even consider it."

He'd said this all in such a matter-of-fact and businesslike way that it made Sebastian's heart break. What was worse… Ciel had a bit of a point. And the true worst part: there was no one to blame for Ciel feeling this way but Sebastian.

Sebastian tightened his gaze. It was sooner than he'd hoped, maybe even too soon, but… he needed to tell Ciel the truth about what he'd been feeling lately. I can't let him go on thinking that his life is pointless. It isn't right. "Young master… I should—"

"Mr. Sebaaaaastian, I need heee-eeelp! My hand won't stop bleeding!"

Oh no.

Both heads had jerked in the direction of the door when the outcry came loud and clear. It was Finny, champion of calling out in such a way that his voice traveled echoingly through the house's numerous corridors. Of course, Sebastian could hear just about anything that went on in the manor, and even pinpoint exactly where it was coming from if he wanted to (most of the time he really didn't want to). The sound had to be coming from the conservatory.

"... I should… see to that," he finished lamely.

Ciel was frowning, eye wide. "Uh, right, yes, you're dismissed… And don't worry about coming back until afternoon tea either. You're being strange today."

With that unpromising review weighing in his thoughts, Sebastian walked briskly in the direction of the trouble. Finny was standing in the middle of the conservatory's geometric tiled floor upon Sebastian's arrival, simply watching his hand drip, even though he had surely been taught a hundred times that he was meant to apply pressure and keep the wound closed in these cases. He looked quite relieved to see Sebastian coming over. "Oh, Mr. Sebastian, there you are, I almost went to find you! Because, see, I tried holding the cut closed, but I must have done it wrong because I only made it bleed more, and I figured you'd be angry if it got on the carpets, so I thought I'd better stay h—"

"Let me see it," Sebastian said simply, and Finny held out his hand to be studied, all the while prattling on at him, "Did I do it wrong? Was I not supposed to hold it shut?" There was a gash in the fatty part of the thumb, at least a centimeter deep and over an inch long, but luckily it wasn't a jagged cut. Still… "How in the world did you manage this?"

Finny tipped his chin all the way back to look up. "One of the glass panes fell out of its molding. I tried to catch it to keep it from breaking, but it stuck into my hand."

"What?" Sebastian looked up too. Sure enough, a single square of missing glass was letting in rain and wind like a storm in miniature. Sebastian looked down again. The pane sat on the floor, mostly intact and with red spattering out from a pointed corner. "It fell out of its molding?" he repeated. "Surely it couldn't just fall out. I secured those panes myself."

Finny shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, Mr. Sebastian, but that's how it happened."

That explanation would have to do for now. "Pinch the cut closed with your other hand to seal it; don't squeeze. Good. Now raise both hands above your chest level and stay like that until I return with the medical supplies. You'll need a few sutures."

"Okaaaay, I won't move a muscle!"

Five minutes later, Sebastian was cleaning the area with a bit of diluted carbolic acid. Then he began stitching. Finny had a relatively high pain tolerance, which was fortunate given sutures could be unpleasant for the average human. He watched Sebastian work, curiosity making him blessedly quiet, and only talked again once the bandages had been applied.

"That's all it needs, huh?" Finny said, turning his hand around to examine it from all sides.

"For the time being." Sebastian closed the medical kit. "You must tell me if it begins to itch or the pain worsens, or if the skin around the area turns red. Any signs of infection must be attended posthaste. I will change the bandages again before you go to sleep tonight."

"Wow, you're just amazing, Mr. Sebastian," Finny marveled. "You can fix anything, can't you?"

Sebastian blinked down at the beaming face. It wasn't unusual for Finny to be so generous with his praise, but… well. It had been a while since Sebastian had received praise from anyone. It felt quite deserved. "Anything other than conservatory panels, perhaps."

Finny laughed. "Well, thanks for patching me up again. I guess I had better get back to work, huh?"

"No, you should not. You're finished for the day," Sebastian said. "We can't risk the sutures being disturbed. I want to be certain that the skin is undoubtedly closing without infection before you do any more work. You'll have to rest for at least the next twenty-four hours."

Finny was abruptly discouraged. "Oh… I didn't realize it was that serious. Oh… I guess I shouldn't have tried to catch the glass after all… Gee, I really messed up this time, didn't I?"

Tears were already budding in those large green eyes and Finny's head slumped forward. Sebastian stared at the fluffy crop of straw-colored hair facing him, bangs secured back with a few red bobby pins but otherwise free to hang wherever strands fell. It had always grown in a shaggy fashion, doing whatever it pleased, for it had never had the chance to grow until its owner was approximately fourteen. There was something about this familiar hair that was unfamiliarly compelling. Yes, it was odd, but… Suddenly, he needed to try something for himself… Just to see what would happen…

Sebastian put his hand on Finny's head. He moved the hand back and forth.

Finny gasped. His eyes tilted to gaze up through his bangs. "Mr. Sebastian…?"

This doesn't seem right. Sebastian moved the hand back and forth more quickly. No, not that either. Perhaps if I think of him like a cat... Sebastian tipped his fingertips downward, feeling the way the nails scritched at the scalp even through the gloves. Yes. That must be it.

Finny's eyes had been slowly widening in understanding. Then his face raised up and split into a huge grin. "Mr. Sebastian, you're scratching my head the way Bard does!" he exclaimed.

"Yes. It would seem I am doing that," Sebastian said, still scratching.

"That means you care about me!" Finny said.

"Is that what it means?" Sebastian faltered.

Finny laughed like a bell. "What else would it mean, silly?"

Good point. He took his hand back. "I suppose that's enough of that."

Finny hopped so that the crown of his head touched the palm of Sebastian's leaving hand. "You know, Bard is wrong about you, Mr. Sebastian! You aren't 'nothin' but a highfalutin windbag with a swollen head!'"

"How comforted I am to know it," said Sebastian.

Finny started rocking on his heels. "So then… if I can't do any chores, what am I supposed to do now?"

"Hmm…" Sebastian only needed to think briefly. "Why don't you knock on Mr. Tanaka's door and see if he needs any companionship? You can read to him, if he wants it and if you promise not to hold the book too tightly. Put all your focus into keeping your wound from reopening, please."

"Ohh, okay! I can do that! I'd be happy to!" Finny held up his uninjured right hand. "But before I leave, did you want me to pat you on the head, too?"

"No, Finny," said Sebastian.

The top of the conservatory was about twenty feet in the air. Sebastian could easily reach such heights in a single bound and went outside to do so once Finny left. With the rain hammering his back, he leapt nimbly up to observe the framework where the glass panel had dislodged from the molding. He hadn't believed Finny's story about the panel merely falling, because it shouldn't be possible for the glass to fall in to the conservatory — the panels were meant to fit perfectly in their structure, so the only way this could happen was if the glass had been shattered first and then fallen. But there wasn't any shattered glass; there was only a near-perfectly intact panel smeared with blood.

So maybe the gardener's story was true. But how was it possible?

Closer inspection revealed a slight flaw in this exact segment of the molding. The framework had been bent from the exterior and now it couldn't hold the glass totally in place from underneath. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, but something like strong wind and strong rain might be enough to push the glass panel out of place until…

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. This was his fault.

The conservatory had only been minutely damaged in the circus troupe's attack last year and thus had only been given a minor inspection following it. Sebastian imagined this sort of injury to the roof might have happened from someone walking on it and bending the framework, when it was never meant to bear a person's weight, even an acrobat's. Standing up here was a feat only a bird or an immortal could manage flawlessly.

It was an error a human would almost certainly not catch, but Sebastian had thought more highly of himself. How disappointing… Well. Nothing to be done now but to patch it up with its own sutures and bandage, which was in this case a precisely measured square of burlap secured with fish glue.

Job well done. And now back to the fires…

"OWWWWW!"

Or not.

It was when he was collecting more firewood from the reserves by the serviceman entrance that Sebastian heard that second cry of pain. This one surely belonged to Bard. A brief pause, and then the barrage began. "Shi- shoot! Dadgum fiddlesticks, dirty rotten consarn son of a b- gun—"

Sebastian went back through the kitchen and followed the cascade of less-than-colorful language through the tack room into the stable, where Bard stood in the aisle gripping his leg and grumbling endlessly. Sebastian clapped a few times to announce his presence.

"I'm very impressed," he said, still clapping. "You've been minding your expletives like I asked you to. Good work."

Bard leaned against a support beam, still holding his leg. All the horses had their heads craned out over their stall doors, ears twisted towards the loud humans. This was the most entertainment they'd had in a day. "Well I guess it was for a good cause, if at least one person heard it," Bard managed to hiss through the pain. "Ouch, for cryin' out loud… I just got kicked, and I mean it when I tell ya it hurts like somethin' that really ain't heck."

Sebastian eyed Avalon suspiciously. "And who happened to be behind the attack?"

"Augh, it was Merrylegs… Really livin' up to your name, ain'tcha, ya big twit? Some merry legs you got now, we'll see how merry you are without 'em—"

"And what did you do to cause Merrylegs to kick you?" Sebastian knelt down and had Bard lift up the left hem of his trousers so he could study the calf. Already a welt the size of a lime was forming.

"Wasn't anything I did!" Bard sucked in on his teeth when Sebastian prodded at the area to feel for breaks in the bone. Fortunately, there weren't any detectable fractures. "Agh, that smarts… Nn, anyway. Was a mouse that startled him. Gave him a right scare when I was pickin' his hooves a bit. Next thing you know, he's stampin' and wavin' his big stupid paws around, and I'm gettin' it in the shin."

"A mouse?" Sebastian stood up straight. "The mice shouldn't have any interest in the stalls. We don't allow food to collect on the floors, and the wood doesn't have any holes in it."

"Eh, think again," Bard grumbled. "I saw that mouse run in myself. There's a nice sizable hole right in the outside-facin' wall of Merry's stall."

"There can't be. I checked for myself yesterday." Sebastian went and peered inside Merryleg's stall. There was a hole.

"You see it?" said Bard.

"I see it," said Sebastian.

"Bet it found a weak spot and just wore at it," Bard said. "Varmint's were always chewin' straight through my old house when it rained. American mice, British mice, seems none of 'em got any courtesy. It rains and it's like they can smell the dry places."

Yes, there had been a weak spot. Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. Yesterday he had noticed the way the wood there seemed slightly scuffed, but he hadn't anticipated it posing an issue. There had been far too many more important things to do than care about lightly damaged stable walls for more than a second. And now the two of them were paying the price.

Sebastian returned to Bard's side and put an arm around his shoulders for support so he could hobble back to the kitchen. "We'll have to chill that welt as best we can while it's fresh. Once you're seated, I'll bring you something to soak it in."

"Yeah, suppose that's all there is to be done… Though a bit of whiskey to take the edge off would be a godsend?" Phrased expectantly, of course.

"A bit," Sebastian emphasized.

That was granted a sigh of relief. "You're a lifesaver."

Sebastian assisted Bard to the kitchen table where the servants ate their meals, and helped lower him tensely into one of the ladder-back chairs. "Oh? So I'm not 'nothing but a highfalutin windbag with a swollen head,' is that so?"

"What?! " Bard seemed to earnestly have no idea what Sebastian was referring to for a moment. Then he clapped a hand over his eyes. "Finny…! Agh, I probably said that years ago and he just never forgot it! Wasn't like I said it yesterday or nothin'! Geez… Eh, uh, s-sorry about that though. No hard feelings?" He cracked a bad grin.

"Yes, I'm sure you're sorry now." Sebastian shook his head, then began towards the scullery in search of a basin. "And I'm sure I probably deserved it to some degree, too."

"Eh, wait, what was that last bit? Didja say somethin' else?"

They didn't have any containers deep enough for Bard to soak his calf in, but they made do with a clean metal washing tub filled with frigid water and a dishrag for him to drench and cover the injury with. Then Sebastian left Bard with a whiskey dram ("Wait, this is all? Uh, I mean, th-this is all so nice of you, thanks boss!"), nailed a bit of spare wood over the hole in the stable, gathered up the logs he'd selected prior to the unfolding of the latest incident, and returned to his fireplace maintenance.

The basement and ground floor fires were taken care of in good order. They had nearly gone out, given all the distractions he'd endured, and it had taken more time than usual to build them back to fullness. It was tedious work. Sebastian was quite eager to hand off the chore to Mey-Rin that afternoon, once all the current fires had been nursed back to health and could perhaps be kept lively with just a bit of kindling. Surely even she could manage that much… Surely—

"Whaaaaaaghh! "

That distinctively pitched cry of alarm had sounded off from the nearest servants' staircase. It was swiftly followed by a crash and a few rattling noises, and then, "Oww…"

…

I don't want to know. Whatever it is, I know I don't want to know about it.

…

Sebastian opened the tucked-away door to the steep uncarpeted stairwell that was meant to allow the domestics to travel through the floors of the manor with all the secrecy of shadows. Meant to yet couldn't — not when the shadows were so clumsy. The steps were currently littered in maid's tools: duster, cleaning rags, furniture brush, whisk brush, scrubbing brush, each item having found its own particular level to sit upon. And at the very top of it lay Mey-Rin, as sprawled as her tools and clutching at her right foot.

First Finny, second Bard, third… "Surely we haven't gone for a hat trick," said Sebastian.

"No, I'm afraid it's a sprained ankle," said Mey-Rin.

"And do tell me," said Sebastian, "what the storm-related culprit behind this incident is."

Mey-Rin looked behind her and upwards. "There's a leak drippin' at the top of the stairwell y'see, and the puddle it made sent the world flyin' out from under me."

"Of course," Sebastian nodded as he saw the place in the ceiling where water had collected and made a damp spot. "Yes, of course."

Using the banister, Mey-Rin tried to stand herself to her feet. "I'll clean all this up straight away—"

"No, you won't." Sebastian traveled up the flight to kneel on the steps and assess the situation for himself. First thing was first. "We'll need to remove your footwear immediately in case the site starts to swell. It would be unfortunate if it grew to the point that we needed to cut you out of it."

Somehow, this was already enough to fluster Mey-Rin. "Uh, o-of course, if you insist!"

The long laces were undone enough that the foot could be slipped free from the tall combat boots Mey-Rin favored for stability. They hadn't been enough to keep her from falling today, unfortunately, though they may have protected her from something worse than a minor sprain — but it was definitely at least a sprain. The range of motion had been compromised and Sebastian could feel the ankle starting to grow hot and puffy beneath his hand. "It would be best not to walk on this. I'll carry you down to the kitchen so we can take a proper look at it."

"WHAT?!" Mey-Rin bleated.

"Please think nothing of it," said Sebastian as he hoisted her into the air, precisely because he knew she would.

She immediately covered her flushing cheeks with her palms. "Ahh, this is too much! This is far, far too much! Oh dear, oh dear… I-I'm not too heavy am I? Oh please say I'm not, I think I'd just about die, I would." Her voice grew smaller and higher-pitched with every word.

Sebastian started down the steps. "I have yet to meet a living creature that is too cumbersome for me to lift."

"O-Oh, well, erm, good!" Mey-Rin placed her hands in her lap and tugged nervously on her apron as they finished their brisk descent. "Ahm, thank you, f-for doing this… I could probably walk on my own, really, if I took my time… I-I mean, I should probably get used to walking on it as soon as possible! All there is to do for a sprain is to put up with it until it eventually goes away. They're really just a nuisance."

"That isn't true." They made it to the basement level and Sebastian turned his body so they could walk through the open frame into the hallway without his passenger bumping the walls. "There are a few things that can be done for sprains, the most important being rest. A warm compress should also help."

"Oh. Oh, I see… I don't know why I didn't realize that." Mey-Rin stopped fidgeting. "I suppose I only ever thought an open wound was the kind that needed care. The invisible ones… well, I always just pretended I couldn't feel them."

"It's better not to pretend." They were nearly at the kitchen now. "I'm glad you aren't trying to pretend today."

"Y-You are, sir?"

But— "Mey! Not you too!" Bard was calling from the servants' table by the wall. He was wringing out the rag he'd been soaking in cold water and slapped it back over his welt, which had grown darker and larger over the last hour. "Eesh, that's cold… Aw, Mey, you lucky dog, getting the Cinderella treatment. Suppose it ain't all bad, then, eh? So tell me, what are you in for?"

"Stop trying to embarrass me, Bard!" Mey-Rin half-howled as Sebastian lowered her into a chair across the table from him. "It's just a sprained ankle and Sebastian is only doin' the good n' decent thing, he is!"

"I'm going to prepare the compress for you now, so please make sure your foot is bare when I return from the sink," Sebastian said as plainly as he could, though it was still enough to have Mey-Rin's face heating up anew.

Boiled water was always available on the stove, so it was just a matter of gathering a clean towel. "Ahh, this is so embarrassin'... Please don't look over while I unhook my stocking," Sebastian heard Mey-Rin fret.

Bard laid a hand lazily over his eyes but still said, "Aww, come off it, Mey, we're practically relatives at this point. You should be able to treat your own lameness without worryin' about propriety or whatever it is that's got you 'round the twist."

Sebastian located a clean rag and walked past while Mey-Rin gritted her teeth at Bard, this time turning red with more anger than embarrassment. "Well, do excuse me if the one lady in a house full of gents would like to exercise a bit of modesty for modesty's sake!"

"Modesty? You're injured, modesty should be the least of your worries."

Mey-Rin had the stocking removed and rolled up just as Sebastian finished preparing the compress. "Only a sprained ankle is all it is… Not so poorly off that I'll stop carin' to be womanly."

Bard chuckled. "Right, well you're on team gimpy now, so I say leave your pride at the door and get comfortable."

"Oh please, Bard, as if that wasn't already your philosophy!"

"Hmm. Yeah, I s'pose you're not wrong about that."

Sebastian walked over with the compress, along with a weighty sack of flour, which he positioned lengthwise on a spare chair. "Elevate your foot on this so that we can reduce the blood flow. Now, are you going to wrap it in the compress or shall I?"

Mey-Rin gripped the corners of the seat. "Ah! Y-Y-Y-You can do it!"

"Huh, wonder where that modesty went off to…"

"AHH, you—! You can keep your comments to yourself, you can!"

"All right, all right, settle down, I'm only teasin'."

Sebastian pretended to ignore their banter. The swelling foot was wrapped in the hot cloth and then propped on the flour sack. "There we are. Now there's nothing to be done but to sit and rest, so at least you can keep each other company."

Mey-Rin fiddled with her glasses nervously. "Ah yes, I suppose so… Th-Thank you, Mr. Sebastian, for all your help."

Sebastian put his hands on his hips and stared at the two servants resting at the table, each with a leg propped up, looking like a pair of layabouts, expressions bored and glum. And then there was Finny with his hand bandaged, and Tanaka laid up with his rheumatism…

Four of the household's five servants were out of commission.

Of course they were.

There was so very, very much to be done, especially now that Sebastian was the only one left standing to do it. But first, he needed to find out what was causing the drip over the staircase; that bit of damage surely needed immediate fixing. How had it even come to pass? If there was anything he'd granted a thorough inspection the other day, it was the roof.

Or apparently not.

The Phantomhive manor did have an attic, though it was not put to use for anything but storage; thus, Sebastian rarely went up there. Even so, he had visited the attic before the storm started, to assure structural soundness. And yet somehow water had collected in the ceiling anyway. How?

Sebastian started his investigation where the water ended: the servants' staircase. Directly above it, in the attic, there was a puddle forming beneath one particular rafter. Water had run down the beam for long enough that it had left a trail across the wood, dripping a single droplet every half-minute with all the slow inconsistency of a stalactite. Sebastian followed the trail up the rafters and supports to the ceiling, the roof's interior, where another wet spot had formed. He memorized the section of the house he was in and kept it in his mind's eye as he went back outside to locate where this minor disaster originated.

The slate shingles were in mint condition. There was not a chip or scratch to their surfaces that Sebastian's faultless eyes could notice. It was only after a minute of thinking, and getting extraordinarily drenched, that Sebastian thought to touch them and see if any moved. Nine, ten, eleven… The twelfth one shifted just slightly under his fingers. There it was.

"Nail sickness," he said aloud in displeasure.

While usually easier to sight, the iron nails that held the shingles in place could sometimes become rusted and start to lose their grip. Sebastian had constructed this roof himself and had made certain it was immaculately done… and again, the circus troupe or another invader may have disturbed the shingle enough at one point that a gap was created and the nail was exposed to the elements. The typical rainstorms of England had been enough to wear away at the metal, again and again and again… and now this storm was enough to let the water run strongly enough that it made it into the house.

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose for a third and hopefully final time. The divine were usually happy to take the credit of humans and Mother Nature…

Forget practical solutions. Forget hammers and wood and glue and tarp. Sebastian fixed this issue with the snap of his fingers and a wave of his hand. And immediately after doing so, he felt the drawstring pull in his chest that meant he was being summoned.

There was no time to change clothes, so Sebastian magicked himself dry and off he went to his master's side in the bright, dry interior of the house. Ciel was stretched out on one of the couches in the upstairs parlor, though he was sitting up off the cushions, rubbing at his arms for warmth. "It's getting cold in here, the fire turned to cinders ten minutes ago," he said, looking more surprised than upset about it. "What the hell has got you taking so long?"

The fire sprung to life with a rush of air and a pop that had the boy turning his head in surprise. "Apologies, sir. It's been a full afternoon," Sebastian hated to admit.

Ciel turned back, eyebrows lowered. "You can't just use your demon abilities whenever it's convenient, I've told you that. They're only supposed to be in emergency situations."

"... Yes, you have told me that. I'm sorry for making an exception." Sebastian paused, then offered a slow smile. "The truth is," he confessed, spotting another opportunity to test his own hypocrisy, "that I myself am feeling a bit… irritated."

And here Sebastian recounted the full afternoon he'd suffered.

Ciel's expression had grown increasingly concerned throughout the dissertation. "All three of them are resting?" he said when Sebastian was through.

"Yes, sir."

"Will they need to rest for the remainder of the day?"

"I should think at least that long. Perhaps two or three days."

Ciel shook his head. "No. That won't do." After a thoughtful moment, he swung his legs over the edge of the cushions. "Go get Finny and tell him to join Mey-Rin and Bard in the kitchen. I'll come down shortly. I want to speak to them about this."

Sebastian immediately set to the task, feeling a stir of smugness at the thought that comeuppance was to be exacted. Five minutes later, all but Tanaka were gathered at the scene. Sebastian stood behind Ciel with the three servants gazing back from their spots at the table, already resembling a trio of beaten puppies before the scolding even began.

"This is a disappointing sight," Ciel said, stern. "You know you're supposed to be more careful than this. The main reason that I hired you was so that you could defend the manor from intruders, and in this condition none of you can do it adequately. Luckily for you, the weather means it's unlikely we're at risk of an attack. But you can't even do your normal jobs in this state. Do you expect me to pay you to sit around and twiddle your thumbs until you're better?"

Now the puppies looked more than beaten — they looked like they'd been told to sleep outside in the storm without even a crate to shield them. "We're so sorry, young master," they chorused in a whimper.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question," Ciel said. His stern tone had already changed into a sensible one. "I'm telling you that I'm not going to let you simply lay around. I won't have you exacerbating your injuries either, but none of you seem too badly off, so there's no need to waste your time laying in bed. If you want to get paid, I expect you to be doing something."

"So we're not being let go?" Finny looked like he was about to cry, and Mey-Rin wasn't much better.

"How did you come up with such an idea?" Ciel folded his arms. "No, of course you're not being let go, and you really ought to think better of me than that. I'm here so we can discuss how I intend for you to spend your time until you're properly healed."

The two youngest servants then burst out with tearful praises. "Young master…!" "We don't deserve so much kindness, we don't!" "After all the things we did wrong…!" "I'm so touched!" "Waaah, young masterrrr!"

Ciel drooped his shoulders, seeming uncomfortable. "God's sake… That's enough of that," he said tiredly. "I'm not being kind, I'm just being practical. Now dry your eyes and listen to me. Either you can come up with a way to keep working without making your injuries any worse or you can hear my idea. Which do you prefer?"

Mey-Rin and Finny were still busy sniffling and hiccuping, so Bard said for all of them, "I think we'd be happy to hear your idea, sir, thank you. What've you got?"

"I thought you might say that." Ciel had a distinctive grin in his voice, Sebastian noted, the very same brand of slyness he used when talking to Diedrich. And now the boy's thumb was gesturing over his shoulder at Sebastian. Oh no. "This one here seems to have forgotten what subject matter it is that nobles need to study," Ciel began. "He's been prattling on about teaching me to clean fireplaces and other whimsies I have no use for. I think something is wrong with him."

Now Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finny were all staring at Sebastian like he was the oddball in the room. It was an embarrassing scene. But what could even be done about it? Everything Ciel said was the truth! "Young master, really…" was the only sore-hearted phrase Sebastian could mutter in defense of himself.

Ciel was positively relishing this moment. "But I'm sure Sebastian feels like he has a point to make," the boy continued. "So, with this opportunity before us, I say why not put his crock theory to the test? Maybe there is something for me to gain by learning a skill outside the recommended curriculum for a person of my birth. With that in mind: I would like the three of you to become my tutors for a day."

"Them?" Sebastian groaned.

"Us?! " the servants cried.

"You," Ciel simpered. He held out his palm as if to settle them. "Now, now, there's no need for shock. As I said, I'm not looking for you all to conduct a lesson in Latin or ancient history — though that would probably make for a good laugh. What I'm looking for is for you to teach me something from your individual skill sets. Something separate from the usual subjects I study."

The three of them exchanged worried looks. "Eh, young master…" Bard shuffled the hair at the nape of his neck. "We aren't exactly… very good at our jobs, you might've noticed. I can't even cook pancakes the same way every time, and they're basically all I can cook."

"It's true, he can't even cook pancakes the same way every time," said Mey-Rin.

"Sometimes he even undercooks them for a change and they're full of liquid," said Finny.

"You lot were supposed to sell yourselves out too, but thanks for piling it on me instead," said Bard.

"Then don't teach me something from your job," Ciel said, undaunted. "Teach me something from your lives before you came to work for me. Obviously whatever lesson you decide on, it will have to be something we can do indoors, and ideally it won't require a lot of space or resources. And, even more ideally, it will be something that I enjoy." He tucked his arms behind his back. "You have until tomorrow morning to come up with a lesson plan. Prepare yourselves to play tutor by… let's say, eleven o'clock? I'm sure Sebastian will gladly make himself available to help you with whatever you need in order to make your ideas a reality."

Sebastian cleared his throat meaningfully. "Young master, please don't forget that I am now managing all of the household chores on my own, including keeping up the fires… It will be quite difficult for me to make time for this on top of everything else."

Ciel shot him an unsympathetic grin over his shoulder. "Oh, but don't you want to prove your own point? And besides, isn't it technically your fault that their injuries occurred at all?"

There's the damn comeuppance you were so keen on. "I… suppose…" Sebastian grumbled.

The boy's grin widened before he faced forward again. "Is the assignment understood?"

Bard scratched his stubble. "Eh… Probably… I think…"

Mey-Rin poked her fingertips together. "M-Maybe, er, for the most part…"

Finny only looked intently at the floor.

Ciel made a humming sound of approval. "Very good. Then, I guess I should say 'class dismissed.'"

Their young master promptly spun around on his heel, chin lifted high with self-satisfaction, and clacked out of the kitchen.

Sebastian watched the boy leave before turning back to face the servants. They were all staring at him with varying degrees of worry, uncertainty, and helplessness in their eyes. Bard managed a feeble grin. "Eh… don't suppose you'd be willing to give us a hand with this one, too?" he tried.

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. The graduates from the school of hard knocks had just become the world's most unwitting professors.

---

※: Ciel is parodying some of the lyrics to 'When a Felon's Not Engaged in His Employment,' a song from the popular comic opera The Pirates of Penzance, which Ciel watched at the Savoy Theatre for its revival in 1888. He's not singing here, but his words do match the cadence of the music.