Phantomhive's Creed II [ON HOLD]

Chapter 3: The Assassin, Adjusting

" KENT Is this not your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to 't.

KENT I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow's mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

KENT I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper."

~William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act I Scene 1

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A Year Earlier from the Recent Events Told...

Knock knock knock.

It was the middle of the night, and the short, hooded figure looked around to make sure no one had followed her. Time was short. She needed to be in safety before anyone found out who, rather, what she was. She followed the directions to this estate after searching for so long the man whom she could call "Father". Indeed, she had been searching for centuries upon centuries. She had hardly aged a bit since then. As she gently knocked on the door again, she wondered if her father had changed appearance as well.

At last, the doors opened. A young boy in a purple overcoat, emerald green vest, dark brown shorts, and thigh-high boots answered it.

"Ah, look here, Claude! I'm taller than this midget of a visitor!!" the boy cried out behind him. He then looked down intimidatingly on the hooded figure. "Look, mysterious wanderer! We don't accept visitors at such late hours of the night. So beat it! And don't forget to drink some milk so you can grow taller! Ha ha ha ha ha-"

"That is quite enough, Your Highness," a deep, monotone voice spoke. The young nobleman hushed up and looked behind him.

"So Claude, are you ready to actually answer the door?" Alois teased.

"I had my reasons not to," the voice uttered as the owner of the voice approached the door. He when he arrived at the door, the hooded figure had to look up at the tall man. He had neatly-combed, black hair, and he wore a simple tuxedo, a handkerchief sticking out of his coat pocket. The silver-rimmed glasses accented his bright, golden eyes, and he always seemed to wear a scowl on his face or, at the very least, a very neutral expression. Some could even call him the "jet black butler" by his appearance alone.

"Why wouldn't you want to answer the door, Claude? This little person seems harmless."

"The only reason why you're that much taller than me is because of the heeled boots you wear. If you take those boots off, you would find that you are exactly my height," the hooded figure snapped.

The young boy looked at the stranger, astonished by her words.

"... You have the wit of your mother," the butler stated, breaking the silence before his Master could.

"I have not heard that in a long time. The one thing that I get from most other demons is that I have your eyes and wickedly malicious smile."

The girl took off her hood and revealed her features. Indeed, she had Claude's golden eyes, but the shape of her eyes was rounder and a little friendlier. She smiled and looked up at her father, the jet black butler. She seemed to have an innocent demeanor, but deep in her eyes, the boy and his butler could see that she had ulterior motives to visiting this manor. The girl's appearance hardly made it seem so though; she had mildly-curly, black hair, which had been styled to a typical Victorian girl's bun, and she wore a lavender dress and small, brown boots. She had the beauty of a porcelain doll; even her complexion was like ivory. The only thing off with her that the young boy could not see was that she had an unusual glow about her, an aura that was certainly not human.