His Butler, Overworked

His Butler, Overworked and Overly Relied on

April 7, 1889

The mist rolled along the estate's moors in the morning light, from the hills in the distance to behind and among the trees before the gardens, shimmering like snowy waves from the early dawn's dew, as if an angel had wept at the beauty of it all. Low rumbles from the forest marked the looming shadow of a demon hound romping within the trees as the gleeful laughs of the servant, Finny, flitted through the air as he rode his mighty steed. A marble statue posing as the fountain preincarnation of Circe Invidiosa, riddled with fresh drops of water, loomed in the middle of the sprawling estate's immediate backyard, where rows upon rows of perfectly trimmed hedges led deep into the gardens on either side of the back doors. Such was the scene when Sebastian was taking momentary leave outside the manor's kitchen door and giving special attention to a pristine black cat that acutely matched his asymmetrical hair, which shone as black as the darkest of nights at the most unholiest of hours. He pressed the feline's paws, the claws sliding in and out like expertly crafted swords leaving and returning to their sheaths. The cat melted into the butler's attire of a crisp black, swallowtail suit; stark white gloves hid black nails and the mark of a Faustian contract on the back of his left hand. The dark alleyway around them could not keep the mewing, black ball of beauty from him. The Young Master could certainly care for himself in the few precious moments in the presence of such a graceful, fascinating young creature.

A dull crash from inside drew his attention back, causing the fine animal to lurch out of his arms, the distance between them growing with every second; those precious few moments gone in an instant. Slipping inside he found the kitchen intact, though upon reaching the entryway of the manor, he found glasses shattered and silverware strewn about, with Mey-Rin in the center of it all looking quite dazed.

"What happened in here?" Sebastian said.

Mey-Rin scurried to her feet, face reddening deeper than the butler's bloody eyes as shards and silverware tumbled from her skirts like snowflakes.

"I was just wanting to help set up for breakfast," she said, "And I was going to take the silverware and glasses inside the dining room and make sure they were all polished, and -"

Sebastian sighed. "And what were you planning to clean them with?"

Mey-Rin peered down at the pot for silver polish, pushing at her glasses as the world swirled in and out of focus, as if she was on a roundabout that moved in time with the frames moving in and out of view.

"I mistook the cleaning liquid for the silver polish!" Mey-Rin said.

"You should seriously consider a new pair of glasses." Sebastian said, "Those simply won't do."

"The Young Master gave me these! They are precious!"

"Very well." Sebastian said, "Clean this mess up."

The butler disappeared into the dining room. In seconds the table was set with the next-best silverware and a pristine white tablecloth. Not a detail out of place.

Upon returning to the kitchen there was yet another early obstacle waiting; Bard stood before the oven, preparing to make use of his flame thrower to cook Ciel's breakfast that Sebastian had begun preparing. Bard, in a rumpled cook's uniform, held a cigarette in his mouth absentmindedly as he aimed at the meal. Before a single word wormed its way to him, Bard ignited the contraption, setting the breakfast aflame; at which point he made eye contact with Sebastian, earning a heated, fake smile from the butler in return. The cook was out of the room before a single reprimanding could occur.

Sebastian flipped open his pocket watch only to find that it was 9:13 - six minutes behind schedule, but fixable. Breakfast would fail to be as intricate as he had planned.