Chapter 3: Arc 1: Start-up (3)

Ciel did more than save the girl. He fled with her at top speed. The newly formed trios of the blackheart maid, the useless Lord and the red-head riding hood were rushing at top speed from away from three angry, burly men in various assemblies of bare-chest and unbuttoned sleeveless jacket right out of an Arabian pirate story. One of them even had a bandanna that Ciel enviously admired.

“Master, hurry,” Caislean used cheerfulness to hide her labor breathing. “Those beastly looking men seem like a type who will rape you in prison. Although a Yaoi threesome pounding is high culture, especially with the combo of candle and belt, it is highly inappropriate for the public at large! We need to run away from the town for the safety of the innocent.”

“Glad to see you care so much about my innocence,” Ciel replied.

“That is right. It will be pathetic for me to have my master lost his anal virginity in such a wussy manner,” Caislean nodded.

“Can you define sarcasm, Caislean?” the Lord wanted to change his maid.

The red-riding hood didn’t improve the conversation much. Instead, she sang the same mantra for the entire run, “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am sorry for getting you caught in this mess. I apologize for my incompetency. I am so sorry, everyone. Please forgive me. I am sorry. I promise I will try harder. I am sorry.”

“GET’EM!” close behind them, those burly men chasing after them yelled in unison.

Seeing this, Ciel picked the perpetually apologizing girl on his shoulder and ran faster, wondering how it ended like this.

…

It ended like this because heroes were expensive.

The girl in red was crying her eyes out when a stranger in black hair and waistcoat arrived to save her from the burly men. For little-red, the man was a knight in shining armor as he confronted the hostiles. Beside him was a maid in black with sharp golden eyes bored into a redhead’s soul like a drill.

In a matter of a second, the stranger, who introduced himself as Ciel, dissected the problem at hand.

“So, you say the red-head cotton ball over there sold you a faulty health potion?”

“Yes!” A man confirmed.

“I am sorry the product is bad!” the red-head cried

“My, my, the little girl reminds me of a cornered rat.” The maid said, her tone motherly, but her cherishing smile told a darker tale. “So scared to die, the little hamster can only kneel and plead to be spared. But the beast, little does our mice know, feast on the fair. Ah, what a vicious cycle. How cute.”

“Eiihh,” the little red-head screeched and started the song. “I am sorry for being afraid!”

“Caislean, shut up,” Ciel said dryly. He turned toward the men and pointed at the redhead’s makeshift stall. “So, those are the products you talk about?”

“Yes. Now get out of the way, beansprout,” bandanna man yelled.

“Nah, I am here as the girl’s financial adviser,” Ciel improvised.

“Eh!” That blatant off-scripted performance caught the red-head unprepared.

“You should start addressing him as the financial adviser for your own sake” Caislean popped into the red-head view with the smile of Satan to scare her into a furious nod.

Ciel coughed to get everyone's attention, “Alright, before we started,” he produced several sheets of papers, “please sign this paper, which documented your claims that the products on this aisle are the same one you received from my client. And Caislean, get the audience. We are doing this in public.”

…

“Well, it works!” Ciel yelled as he dug from a brick thrown at his head. “We eviscerated them.”

…

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ciel addressed the assembled five audiences Caislean gathered, “We are here today, to prove to you the scientific method.” He raised his hand towards his trio of accusers, “These fine men here, have accused my client of selling faulty potions.” He then gestured towards the red-head frozen by stage fright. “And I, as a man of science, must step in to serve justice.”

Ciel gestured to Caislean who walked forward, with five vials in her basket.

“I had these three victims selected, while blindfolded, five health potions from the girl aisle. I also have them provided a standard health potion of their choosing as a control group. Gentlemen, is this the potion you selected and provided.”

“Yeah, what is the point of all this,” the man asked.

“Simple! Caislean!” Ciel summoned the maid.

Caislean appeared with ten rats caught from the streets nearby, sanitized with an alcohol bath.

The 'financial advisor' continued, “We are going to do a public testing. A paper cut test to measure how fast little miss’ potions fare against the standard potions these fine men provided on these rats. It will be a fair measurement with the same quantity of potion, cut sizes. Even the weight of the rat will be similar. I will even allow our gentlemen to check the equipment used for the sake of fairness! If you have anything to say, please say it now!”

“Nah, we are good,” the leading man replied. In their head, they already imagined the test failing to accomplish anything aside from being smoke and mirrors.

“Aren’t you going to check our equipment and method?” Ciel asked the men to be sure.

“Just get it over with!”

Ciel nodded, “Very well. Let the experiment begin.”

…

Caislean and Ciel, with the girl being a confused mess on his shoulder, leaped out the town entrance and scampered into the wood.

“To be fair, my master," Caislean admitted. "You crush them, so utterly, it won’t be surprising if they blow up.”

Ciel protested vehemently, “How could I expect them to torch the reputation in public like that? If the news spreads that they chase us like hooligans despite all the professionalism involved, any trustworthiness they have is officially six-foot under. How could I expect them to be this stupid?”

…

...

It was a crushing fact put into cold heart number, witnessed and recorded for the mass to see. A man could weave the world with a flower of prose. He could capture the crowd with eloquence and flowery promises. But when the test was conducted, and the result plotted to the table, no amount of excuses could erase the numbers.

Ciel turned toward the three men.

“The result is clear. The girl product isn’t faulty. As a matter of fact, it is twice as potent as the control group.”

“How?” They pointed impotently at the numbers. “You must be lying!”

“I am not,” Ciel spoke the truth. “You checked the equipment, provided the control group sample, picked the test sample yourself, spoke nothing when the numbers are written, and most of all, agreed with every step of the testing before written documents and eyewitnesses. If anyone could cheat this, it is you. I even let you check the rats.”

The crowd murmured in an agreement.

Ciel stared coldly, knowing he won. Behind him, the girl in red looked at her savior with newfound admiration and respect.

“Do you know who you're messing with!?” The men pointed at Ciel.

“I am just an agent of truth,” Ciel pointed at the board and gestured at the crowd, which had grown from five into ten during his live-testing. “I recommend going back from wherever you came from. If you raise a ruckus, you are basically throwing your dignity and trustworthiness into the dump-”

“GET HIM!” the burly men rushed at the trio and the chase formally begun.

…

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It took Ciel and company an hour to lose the pursuer in the woods.

In a happy coincidence, the red-head lived in this same forest and insisted her new friend could stay at her place. The girl, and the suggestion, was so friendly Ciel could believe she was another Lord in disguise. However, that theory wouldn’t fly for the simple reason a Lord wouldn’t bother with the entire charade.

“Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Amy Seyfert,” the girl put a herbal apple pie on the table. “Thank you for helping me today.”

She humbly bowed. Ciel gave her the highest possible mark for hospitality. Caislean sitting across the table was uncharacteristically insecure in a nagging fear Amy would steal her career with zero effort.

In Ciel’s opinion, Caislean wasn’t wrong.

After the haunted mess of a town, Ciel was beyond impress with everything about Amy. Her cottage was a pristine picture of caramel plaster and red bricked tiled roof. It even got a cute chimney right out of a nostalgic fairy tale. The house was orderly, beautiful, and passionately cared for by its owner.

Greeting them behind the door was the living-room. Everything from plywood furnitures to the velvet tablecloth covering the dining table to white curtains by the windowsill was without a single speck of dust. Ciel hadn’t seen Amy’s kitchen or bedroom, but the delectable apple pie alone convinced him they must be the image of excellence and quality.

“So why are you selling potions in that hellhole, Amy?” Ciel consumed the apple pie, internally bemoaning the fact Amy wasn’t in charge of the world. “You should be opening a restaurant.”

“Well, I don’t think the people will like my food,” Amy shyly answered.

Ciel got only one response, “Bullshit.”

Across Ciel, Caislean was too busy staring into the pit of an inferiority complex to voice her opinion.

“But Amy, I must ask you this,” Ciel looked into the girl's eyes. To make a headway, he must understand what he was working with. “You have more potential than the entire county. It will be an honor to help you get there, but I want to know what you want. What is your dream?”

Amy absorbed the question and looked around her house once. She breathed out and took a seat next to the rapidly shrinking Caislean, “I don’t know how to say this.”

“What about the beginning?” Ciel asked.

“Well, I would say I want to live-up to my uncle,” Amy answered.

“Your uncle?” Ciel mirrored her words.

“Yes, uncle Gordon. He raised me in my parents' stead after they died in the war,” Amy said.

“It must be hard,” Ciel nodded.

“No, not that hard, thanks to uncle,” Amy smiled. “He is tough. He is harsh, but he is good with me. Thinking back, it boggles my mind how much he knows. The first thing he taught potion and cooking is meticulousness and passion. He often told me stories of places around Acceltra — the culture, the foods… the people.”

“Where is he now?”

“He left a year ago," Amy glanced out of the window somberly, "telling me he taught me everything he could and said his colleague called for help. He even left me ample of money.”

“You want to meet him again,” Ciel said in a top-notch art of persuasion.

“Oh, it is more than that. I want to make him proud,” Amy said. “Uncle Gordon is a businessman, so I believe I should start a little enterprise of my own.” Amy gazed downward. “And I failed on the first day. I think I owe him an apology.”

“Look here, Amy,” Ciel couldn’t let this gem die before launch. “You can’t bend over and wave the white flag after one defeat. People fall to get up again, and I will be honored to help you with that.”

“I know, but you see the town’s state,” the red-head voiced her insecurity.

“I will come up with something tomorrow. Don’t worry. Can you show us the place to camp outside?” Ciel replied. “We didn’t have a place to stay.”

“Not this again,” Amy looked alarmed. “I promise you can rest here tonight!. What type of host would I be to let you sleep in the woods?”

“Thank you, Amy, I am grateful for your generosity.”

Caislean looked at her master with a newfound respect. That was one hell of a conversation skill.

…

That night, in the guest room, the master and servant stared at each other after making sure their host was fast asleep.

They stared at each other. Gazes crossed, and sparks flew for a solid fifteen minutes of silence.

It was Ciel who broke the silence.

“It is out of question, Caislean,” Ciel said to the maid. “Are you aware of how exploitative that is?”

“I know you are being a softhearted moron. I don’t understand. You landed a good first impression. You got close to her. There is no doubt you can swoop her off her feet, but you somehow insist on not doing just that,” the blackheart maid answered.

Ciel shrugged, “The girl has a good heart. I don’t want to corrupt that.”

“My master, you must be aware your very power is akin to a Faustian bargain with the devil," Caislean clenched her fist. "Your existence is the testament of corruption. To possess any chance of victory against other Lords, you need to seduce woman into a contract, keeping that moral high ground is lethal for you.”

“I understand your concern, but I don’t want to drag people like her into the War of Lords.”

Caislean’s mouth hung in exasperation, “Sorry, master, but you are deluding yourself if you think the other Lords will be as humane as you. The moment that war broke. They won’t look where they drop the bomb. Everyone on the planet will be joining the war either as a combatant or as a body bag. If you truly want to defend those people, well, you need to make some sacrifice.”

“Caislean, with your attitude, how many sacrifices will have to be made before the war even starts?”

The question sucker-punched Caislean’s argument.

“You are aware you are staking your life over this stupid argument,” Caislean responded furiously.

“Yes,” Ciel answered.

“Are you seriously preparing to die for this?” Caislean asked.

Ciel wouldn't budge, “I don’t want regrets."

“Master, don’t you get it?" Caislean barely believed they were having this conversation. "If someone like Yume wins, Amy will die. You will die, and I will follow you to the grave. Master, let me be honest, you aren’t human. There is no need for you to insist on having such human sentiment.”

“You are right, Caislean. I am not human, and because of that, I need that humanity,” Ciel gritted his teeth in frustration. “Part of the reason the War of Lords is inevitable is because those morons miss that empathy. Tell me, if I turn into another heartless Lord before the war even starts and wins, will that victory actually matter at all.”

Caislean remained silent.

Finally, she said a simple sentence, “I don’t want to die, master.”

“I will come up with something. I promise.”

…

Outside the room and the knowledge of the both master and servant, a young girl who heard the entire conversation by accident was trying to keep her rapidly beating heart in her chest.

 

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