Chapter Text
The letter arrived in the evening, slipped through the letterbox by an unseen hand.
Well, unseen to most.
Sebastian had the crisp ivory envelope in hand before it hit the ground. He stood, examining it with a raised eyebrow. A curious aroma of aniseed and tobacco, with the faint earthy undertone he associated with poppies, could be detected on the paper, which gave the sender away immediately.
It had been months ago that the Young Master had set Lau on the case of a seal, curiously shaped and wrought in black wax. It had been in the pitiful lodgings of some vermin that had tried to kidnap the Young Master from his bed. Vermin that Sebastian had eliminated with pleasure.
In truth, Sebastian hadn't expected the man to get back in contact at all. He'd found vexingly little in the Public Records Office, and checking the county offices from Cornwall to Inverness had yielded similar results. He slotted the letter between teacup and saucer, and continued carrying the Earl's supper (Welsh rarebit, accompanied by poached pear, crème anglaise and flaked almonds) to his office.
Frankly, the tip off about the Karnstein Hospital and the ensuing events that unfolded thereafter had been keeping the Young Master occupied enough in recent months.
The Aurora Society’s operations had been thoroughly dismantled. The Young Master had overseen the efforts from the shadows, scouring the (frustratingly scant) documentation for any hints into the Undertaker’s murky intentions. There was precious little of relevance beyond strange transactions and obscure board minutes, but they had served well enough to push all thoughts of the pathetic intruders from so many months ago from the mind.
Those leads had stalled, however, and the Young Master had, in a manner that befitted his age not his title, been in a truly petulant sulk about it ever since.
He sighed, raising a hand to knock on the office door.
Perhaps the spidery threads of a new mystery might alleviate the Young Master's mood.
Predictably, Ciel had ignored the food in favour of the letter.
He picked at the rarebit whilst his visible blue eye scanned through the contents with voracious interest, hardly paying Sebastian any mind as he cleared away the day's reports.
Suddenly, he paused mid-bite, eye narrowing and leaning forward.
“Sebastian,” he said, frowning in consternation, “Are you aware of any record of the previous Earl's contractual dealings?”
That was certainly an unusual request.
“No, not in the manor, my Lord,” he replied, pausing in his work, “I would have thought any such records would have been long lost by now.”
"Yes, I thought so too,” Ciel frowned, sighing and sitting back in his chair, “House fires spare nothing.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment, lost in thought.
“Perhaps there is something at the town house,” he said reluctantly, picking up a fork and stabbing a slice of pear, “Failing that, we can try the Public Records Office again.”
“And what might we be searching for, my Lord?” Sebastian asked, clearing away the discarded plate.
“It seems that one of Lau’s contacts has noted the same design as our mysterious wax seal around London,” Ciel said, humming in approval as he took a bite of the sweet fruit, “Notably on some access doors in the sewers. Why he's got people venturing into the sewer system, I've no desire to know, but if there's some hint to be found, we should pursue it.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Sebastian said, tilting his head to one side in mild confusion, “But what have the sewers to do with the previous Earl's contracts?”
“Well,” Ciel said, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought, “Whose family do you think was consulted on remedial works to the sewer system? I vaguely remember hearing the previous Earl complaining about the stench over our evening meal, and being scolded for it by the Countess.”
“I see,” Sebastian said, fighting to keep the chuckle out of his voice, “So, your family takes doing the Queen's dirty work quite literally, then.”
“Quiet,” the boy snapped, jabbing the fork in his direction, “I'll not hear that from the likes of a demon that confessed to spreading pestilence around the country!”
Ah, the Black Death. Such suffering was a true work of art.
“My apologies, my Lord,” Sebastian said, bowing his head in mock contrition, “I shall make the preparations for departure then. When do you wish to leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Ciel sniffed, sliding the finished dessert plate across the table, “There's no sense in waiting.”
“Very good, my Lord,” Sebastian said.
He cleared away the last of the dishes and exited the office, mind already turning to the required preparations for travel. A trip to the town house was an unexpected boon.
After all, it had been some time since he last saw Agni.
Agni placed the receiver back on the phone, unable to keep the smile from his face.
Prince Soma looked up from where he was reclining on one of the many couches in the room, and a crafty grin overtook his youthful features.
“Do not tell me, Agni,” he said, propping his chin up on one hand, “Ciel and his khansama are visiting us, aren't they?”
Agni's snow white brows shot up nearly to his hairline in shock. “How did you guess that, my Prince?” he asked, astonished.
“My friend, it was very obvious from your smile!” the Prince responded, laughing as he rolled over onto his back, “You only grin like a lovesick fool when we are going to see them soon!”
Agni's cheeks coloured furiously, and he busied himself with clearing away the chai set onto a tray.
“So,” the Prince continued, “When are they arriving?”
“They are coming to the town house tomorrow, my Prince,” Agni said, stubbornly smiling lips betraying him once more, “I shall begin all necessary preparations tonight.”
“Tomorrow?” Soma said, sitting up, hair askew, “Did they say why? That is too sudden for a social call!”
“Sebastian said that they were looking for some paperwork that might be here,” Agni replied, absently walking over and combing Soma’s hair back into order, “Something that may have belonged to the previous Earl.”
“Ciel’s father,” Prince Soma said, losing some of his joviality, “Maybe we can help them search. It must be quite important for Ciel to come here himself, instead of just sending his khansama.”
“That is a wonderful idea, my Prince,” Agni replied, fondness bubbling up within him like a mountain spring, “I am sure Ciel will appreciate your kind helping.”
“And I am sure,” the Prince said, devious smile returning once more, “That Mister Sebastian will appreciate spending time with you! So,” and he stood, sweeping his arm into a greatly exaggerated bow, like a Bharatanatyam performer, “I will help Ciel look for his father's papers, so you two can sneak away for some time together! Here, I shall give you some money!”
And he darted off in a swirl of golden and cream silks. Agni blinked, taken aback, before he took off after him, protests falling on deaf ears.
The carriage ride down to London was uneventful. The tranquil pastoral scenery rolled past the window unheeded as boy and demon formulated a plan of attack.
They had decided to prioritise searching the town house first, before resorting to the Public Records Office once again. This, Ciel theorised, would enable them to be waylaid by social niceties in the morning before escaping in the afternoon, citing a need to check the Office before it shut as a convenient excuse for an abrupt exit.
Sebastian didn't rate their chances.
Prince Soma and Agni were an immovable object when it came to derailing their careful planning, and Sebastian was almost certain that today would be no exception.
He was proved correct almost immediately.
The carriage arrived at the town house in the late morning, and he had no sooner helped the Young Master down and retrieved their belongings when the door was thrown open. Prince Soma, sprinting at them and waving enthusiastically, greeted Ciel in the court yard.
As expected, Agni was not far behind him, and Sebastian couldn't help but notice that he was dressed more finely than he expected. His usual sherwani had been replaced with one of a deeper green, with mother of pearl buttons. He was also wearing finer jewellery, dangling earrings and rings that Sebastian was certain actually belonged to the Prince, and his usual yellow sash had been replaced by one of a rich golden colour that, in Sebastian’s utterly unbiased opinion complimented his dark complexion handsomely.
But, most damningly, the man's soul was beset with the telltale scent of anxiety. Trouble was most definitely afoot.
Still, he smiled when he saw Sebastian and came over, taking one of the suitcases from him and brushing his hand along his as he did so.
“Good morning, Agni,” Sebastian said, eyes flicking over his form and raising an eyebrow, “I hope the morning has been pleasant?”
“It has, thank you,” he responded, nervousness ill-concealed behind his attempted smile. They began to walk behind their respective charges, who were chattering on ahead. “How was your journey?”
“It went smoothly,” Sebastian said, “You'll have to forgive me, but is there some engagement that the Young Master is intruding upon? I couldn't help but notice your fine manner of dressing today, and I would hate for our trivial search to interrupt something.”
“Ah, not exactly,” Agni muttered, cheeks darkening at the compliment most agreeably, “The Prince-”
Whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off by the loud slamming of the front door, right as they reached the top step.
From behind the thick wood, Sebastian could hear the Young Master’s indignant shouting and the Prince's gleeful laughter. He turned to Agni in askance, but the man had put his face in his bandaged hand, and his blush had deepened.
Curiosity bleeding into mild alarm, Sebastian raised a hand and lifted the polished brass door knocker.
“Prince Soma,” he said, raising his voice to ensure he was heard, “What is going on?”
“So sorry, Mister Sebastian,” Soma said, voice alight with mischief, “But today, you are not needed! As custodian of this house, I am declaring you relieved of duties!”
“No, he's bloody not!” came the Young Master's irate hiss from somewhere within, “Sebastian, I order you to-mmfn!”
Sounds of a struggle could be heard from behind the door, and Sebastian could just picture the Prince's hand slapped over the young boy's mouth as he, like a pathetic whelp, fought against the older teen. He repressed a chuckle at the thought.
“Your only job today - ow! Ciel, do not bite me! - is to spend some time with my khansama!” Soma said, and Sebastian's eyes widened at the declaration, “Leave the bags by the door, I will help Ciel search for his papers, have no fear!”
Utterly bemused, Sebastian cast another glance at Agni, who in turn, had cast his eyes heavenward.
“I am sorry, Sebastian,” he said, mortification crawling across his face, “I did try to talk my Prince out of this, but he would not be dissuaded.”
“That is correct, I would not,” Soma chimed in, scuffing sounds still continuing, “But disappear right now, that's my order! Go on, shoo!”
Agni sighed and placed the bag by the door. At a loss, Sebastian followed suit.
“Young Master,” he called, “I shall use the time to check the Public Records Office, instead. It seems the Prince has made up his mind.”
“Who exactly do you work f-ack!” The Young Master's tirade was once again cut off, growing fainter and fainter as the Prince presumably dragged him away.
Sebastian snickered, and discretely dispatched one of his eyes beneath the doorway in a miniscule flit of shadow, to keep watch the boy in his absence. It was not at all for the amusement of watching him struggle.
He turned to Agni.
“Well, it appears as if we are free for the afternoon,” he said, amused, “Did you have anything in mind?”
“We could check this Public Records Office first,” Agni proposed, gently linking their arms together, “And then obtain some lunch?”
“That sounds pleasant,” Sebastian smiled, before a thought occurred and he stopped dead, “Please tell me there is food left in for the Prince and Young Master.”
“Jaanu, if you think I am letting my Prince touch a kitchen knife, you have taken leave of your senses. Though he is blessed with a great many skills, if I leave him in the kitchen alone, he will lose fingers,” Agni shuddered, “There is a cold lunch already prepared for them.”
They exchanged relieved glances, mutual horror at the thought of their charges unsupervised in a kitchen laid to rest. Arm in arm, both butlers made their way towards the bustling city centre.
In the corridor of his own town house, tucked under the arm of his own custodian and humiliatingly being dragged about as if he were little more than a sack of flour, Ciel fumed. He was seconds away from stamping his foot in frustration. Only the thought of the obstinate Prince's amusement prevented him from doing so.
Sebastian - bastard that he was - hadn't even put up any protest at the circumstances! Ciel grit his teeth in anger. Leave it to Soma to derail a whole morning's worth of careful planning!
The subject of his vexations dragged him from the front door, grinning like a fox, and into the sitting room. There, a plate of sweet sandesh could be seen next to four stacked trunks and a neat tower of old ledgers. No doubt an apology from the other half of the treacherous pair.
After a moment, Soma returned to the sitting room, carrying their luggage. He tossed the suitcases carelessly to one side, a gesture that made Ciel’s eye twitch, and placed his hands on his hips as if in triumph.
“Come now, Ciel,” the soft-hearted fool said, “You and I can check through these old papers without our khansamas. They should get to spend some time together! They have not seen each other in months!”
“It isn't any of your concern how I choose to make use of my own staff,” Ciel seethed, plucking a sweet from the tray, “I do not appreciate you dictating their time! Besides,” he continued, “I think you've only pulled this little stunt because you don't want to spend any more time around Sebastian than necessary!”
Soma’s eyes widened at the accusation, and he crossed his arms.
“That is not it at all!” he protested, shaking his head, “Agni has missed him, I can tell! And I care about my khansama’s happiness!” And here, he paused, sighing and taking a seat next to where Ciel was standing. “Yes, I do not like being around Sebastian, and I do not understand quite what my khansama or you see in him,” he said, oddly serious, “There is something… wrong and strange about him that sets my teeth on edge. But, the last time I tried to interfere in the love life of someone I cared for, because I did not understand their choices, I pushed them away from me forever. I am trying to do better by Agni, and support his happiness. And you should do the same with Sebastian! I may not like him, but I can see how hard he works for you. You would not wish to push him away from you, like I did to Mina.”
He was only half right.
It was very evident how hard Sebastian worked for his soul, and just how far he would go to ensure Ciel never escaped their contract. Not that he was trying to.
Ciel ignored the snarled knot of bitterness and apathy the thought engendered, consigning it to the numb acceptance he treated all other considerations of his fate.
Sebastian did not care for him in the slightest.
He was a meal and nothing further. It did him good to be reminded of that, as he was in Germany. Sometimes, the act the demon put on was almost too convincing, even if it didn't seem to fool Soma at all.
Still, though, it wasn't as if he could say as much to the Prince. Which meant that, reluctantly, he would have to play along.
“Tch, well, what's done is done now,” he muttered, sitting down next to the Prince and biting into the soft sweet, “At least it should mean our business will be wrapped up sooner than I expected.”He turned to the assembled documents. “Where did Agni find these?” he asked, eyeing them with curiosity.
“Hm? Oh, the dusty books and boxes!” Soma said, cheeks swollen with partially eaten sweets. He chewed and swallowed, before continuing, “We found them in the attic. After Mister Sebastian called, we checked through all the rooms and could not find anything. So, we tried the attic, and this was everything that seemed like it could be helpful.”
Ciel nodded along, turning to the ledgers first. He scanned through the first quickly, well practiced by now in absorbing large quantities of information in record time.
As expected, it was completely useless, little more than quarterly financial statements on some of his predecessor’s investments, slightly mildewed with age. He sighed, setting it aside. He picked up the next one.
“So,” Soma said, discontent with being ignored for longer than he had patience, “What is it exactly that you are searching for?”
“The previous Earl had an old contract that I need to examine,” Ciel said, not quite lying, “I want to see if there are any obligations that my family are beholden to that I've neglected.”
In the span of ten words, the Prince's eyes had already glazed over in boredom. “Really?” he said, throwing himself back against the cushions, “Ciel, that is duller than England's skies in November!”
“You don't have to help,” Ciel snapped, “I can see to this on my own well enough. Not all of us are living on the good graces of others, some of us have responsibilities to fulfil!”
“No, no,” Soma said, standing by a trunk, “I promised I would help, and so I shall! You should be grateful, Ciel, not everyone would have a Prince aid them like this!”
Ciel’s fingers abandoned the ledger and twitched towards his concealed pistol.
Heedless of his friend's quasi-murderous intentions, Soma began to tug one trunk down. Ciel quickly hurried over, grabbing the other side to prevent them toppling over. They pulled them down one by one, Ciel steadfastly ignoring Soma’s (frequent) check ins when his arms started shaking from the weight. Panting from exertion, Ciel unbuckled the straps on the first lid. He pushed it open, Soma peering over the top of his head to get a good look.
His fath-the previous Earl's softly smiling face peered up at him from the shadowed interior, younger than he could ever remember seeing him, and finely dressed in a dark suit. Next to him, Ciel could see the top of a floral wreath, a painted ivory veil and blonde hair before all it became too much to bear. He slammed the lid shut, breathing shakily.
Heavy silence fell over the room.
Slowly, as if fearing he would run, Ciel felt Soma’s arms wrap around his shoulders. He was pulled back against the Prince's body, and Soma rested his cheek against his hair.
“You look just like him,” Soma said, quieter than Ciel had ever heard, “I am sure he would be very proud of you, Ciel.”
Anger, vicious and ugly, bubbled up within him. He wanted to scream, to spit out the fury, the resentment, the heartbreaking despair, at the Prince, whose only crime was a kindly meant platitude. But doing that would accomplish nothing.
It wouldn't change anything.
It wouldn't bring back the dead.
And that wasn't Soma’s fault.
He sighed, reaching once more for cold detachment, and tolerated the embrace for a few seconds longer. After he felt more composed, he shook free of the Prince, and moved to the next trunk.
There was no telling what - who - could be found in a trunk of forgotten family portraits.
The rest of the trunks contained papers, one of copies of deeds and titles bestowed upon the family, one of great stacks of reports, contractual documents, and meeting summaries, and the last appeared to contain hundreds of envelopes, all with broken seals containing the Queen's crest. He immediately had Soma disregard all of those, hand waving them away as royal event invitations, and keeping a close eye on any attempt made by the Prince to investigate them further.
It would not do to let Soma become any more involved with his business than he already was.
Mulishly, Ciel thought Sebastian, had he been here and not cavorting around London with Agni, would have spared him the tedium of checking all of this himself. Or eliminated the risk of Soma finding something he should not.
After an hour or so, Soma brought over a platter of neatly crafted samosas and crispy pastries filled with spiced yoghurt he called dahi vada, which alleviated some of the ennui. They passed the rest of the early afternoon in the same manner, grazing on prepared snacks and flicking through dusty papers.
It was, however, to no avail. Ciel found nothing that would grant them plausible deniability for accessing the sewer network. He was just about to call off the fruitless endeavour, when his eye was caught by the last trunk, the one that had contained the envelopes.
He frowned, and checked the exterior and interior again.
Strange.
He walked out of the room, towards a cupboard under the stairs where he knew Sebastian had stored cleaning supplies and tools. He had never had cause to open the door before, but if what he suspected was correct, he would need a tape measure.
He pushed down the handle, and turned. It clicked, but did not open. Frowning, he tried again, pushing with a little more force. Again, it did not yield to his demand for entry.
It was locked.
Hearing his groan of frustration, Soma stuck his head out of the sitting room. “Ciel,” he called, frowning, “What are you doing trying to get into Agni's cleaning cupboard, hm?”
“I was looking for a tape measure,” he replied, “Why is it locked? He cannot have been concerned over theft!”
“He placed the kitchen knives in there this morning after he finished lunch,” Soma sniffed, walking over, “I am not sure why, though. He locked it afterwards and has taken the key with him.”
Blast.
“Why do you need a tape measure anyway?” Soma asked, and Ciel sighed. There was no way his suspicions were going to disincentivise the Prince's interest.
“I suspect that last trunk has a false bottom,” he said, with great reluctance, “I wanted to check whether the inside floor was higher than the exterior dimensions.”
Predictably, Soma’s eyes lit up. He grabbed Ciel’s hand and dragged him back towards the sitting room in haste.
“That is the most exciting thing you have said all day!” he cried, plum coloured hair swishing behind him with the speed of his stride, “There must be another way of checking!”
They returned to the sitting room in no time, and Soma quickly scurried over to the trunk. He began to poke around the inside, testing the corners to see if any gave way. Ciel helped, running his finger along the length of the edges.
Suddenly, Soma gasped, and a huge smile lit up his face. “Ciel!” he cried, elated, “There is a tiny hole on the back wall here, big enough, I think, for a sewing needle of some kind.”
Ciel looked at where he was gesturing. Indeed, on the back broad side of the trunk, where the lid was connected, there was a minute hole a quarter of an inch up from the bottom, near invisible to the eye. The boys exchanged triumphant grins.
“Wait here,” Soma said, jumping to his feet and dashing off, “I know where Agni keeps his sewing kit!”
Pounding footsteps retreated down the corridor, and Ciel felt the familiar, addictive thrill of the pursuit of a mystery wash over him.
There was nothing quite like it.
It made whatever time he had left feel all the more exhilarating, when there was something strange to untangle. It gave him purpose, kept him sharp, and kept the shadows that plagued him at bay.
It made him feel like it hadn't been a waste to be spared, when another (more deserving) party hadn't been.
Soma returned, and Ciel watched as he hurried over, a thin needle grasped between his pointer finger and thumb.
With great care, he slid the needle into the hole, carefully twisting and jiggling it about until, with a barely audible click, Ciel felt the one side of the bottom of the trunk lift up. He quickly pushed down on the other end, and Soma, removing the needle, helped him slide the false bottom away. They peered down into the shadowy trunk base.
Immediately, Soma recoiled, startled and uneasy, but Ciel felt deep satisfaction, triumphantly smirking.
There, lying over some papers wrapped in black silk, was an embossed copper cast depicting the curiously stylised number 13 and skull, surrounded by a ring of deeply etched stitch marks.
A perfect replica of that black wax seal.