𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖔𝖓: 𝕮𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖙

Picking Lots

It was a thrilling tale, riveting even, but it was also humiliating in some parts. The Marchioness was hiding the majority of her face behind her fan in second-hand embarrassment, Sebastian was rather unamused, Soma was a bit confused, Ciel was mortified hearing about his father's behavior, McMillan was in awe, Lizzie and Edward were baffled, and Y/N was trying to smother her laughter. She didn't know what to find funnier: The fact that Ciel's father was actually rather airheaded, or that Ciel was horrified that this was the legacy he had inherited.

"Th-The previous Earl was in Blue House?" Ciel muttered once he finally regained his voice.

"I can't believe your dad was a key player in the 'Miracle of Sapphires'!" McMillan gushed as he looked to Ciel with stars in his eyes.

"Ahh... You didn't know yet, hm, Ciel?" The Marquess noted fondly as he looked down on his nephew.

"Father was a Fag?" Lizzie mumbled, looking rather downcast, making Y/N chuckle.

"He's younger than Uncle Vincent?" Edward added, somehow looking more disappointed than his sister.

"A wonderful story, Marquess," Y/N said with a polite smile.

"It was a truly brilliant game," he continued. "It pains me to say this, but we were utterly clobbered!" The Marquess put his hands on Ciel's shoulders and told him, "You have the blood of a genius game strategist in your veins. Have faith in yourself and give it your best."

Before Ciel could say anything in response, a hushed murmur fell over the crowd inside the great dining hall. The Vice Headmaster was making his way back up the stage once again, this time thankfully not tripping over his robes. "Oh! Something's about to begin!" Soma said as he and the others all followed the growing crowd to wait closer to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting," the Vice Headmaster addressed everyone as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out four wooden slats. "We will now draw lots to decide the tournament fixtures." As the Vice Headmasters held the wooden lots up to show the crowd, Ciel and Y/N shared a quick glance. Drawing lots was a completely random and fair way for the order of teams to be decided. It was also a key tradition for Weston, meaning it was more important to the school and students than anything else in the world. Which in turn meant that it would not be tampered with in the slightest by others. "You there. Lend me your hat," the Vice Headmaster said to Clayton.

Y/N and Ciel's Housemate gladly offered up his scholar's cap to the Vice Headmaster who took it up onto the stage. The Vice Headmaster flipped the cap back and forth in his hands, showing the audience that it had not been tampered with in any way. The school had no hidden tricks, no secret methods in picking the teams which would play. But Y/N and Ciel did. They gave not a single damn about Weston nor their silly traditions. They were here to do a job, not play a fair game of cricket with teenage boys. And their job would continue as their secret trump card walked up onto the stage with his fellow faculty.

The four tiles fell into Clayton's cap with clicks, two sun tiles and two moon tiles. The only difference in these tiles were their colors and the patterns painted onto them. Their weights were the same, their shapes were the same, and they all felt the same: smooth from use, sanding, paint, and varnish. At least, they all felt the same to a human. Naturally, Sebastian could tell the difference between all the tiles. He knew which sun and moon tiles were the heaviest, which ones were thinner or had more worn and rounded faces, and which ones had beautiful moons or suns painted onto them. With his nimble demon fingers, he would be able to perfectly manipulate it so that when the other House Masters reached into the cap, they would each pull the tile that most benefited Blue House.

"Now then, all House Masters! Come forward to draw lots!" The Vice Headmaster instructed. And up the stage they marched. Sebastian led the four with his slicked back hair and glasses, climbing up the stage's stairs with his rosary beads and cross necklace thumping against his chest with each step. Behind him marched the Green House and Red House Masters. The Green House Master looked as if he had just been plucked out of a military boot camp with his oddly shaven black hair and goatee. And the Red House Master looked like a Renaissance prince or poet with his blonde hair, red robes, ruffled shirt, and feathered hat. Bringing up the rear, to no one's surprise, was the Purple House Master. He looked like a more gothic Edgar Allen Poe, if that was even possible. His face was either shrouded in shadow, gaunt, or hidden by his thick black eyeliner.