His Butler, Beloved {KuroWattyAwards 2014}

III: His Butler | | Only Mortal

"Master, if I might be so bold," Jasper began as he placed Ezzelin's left black leather, pointed-toe loafer onto his foot; he hadn't bothered to raise his head as he continued, "I would suggest we attend the opera on the eve of Saturday. What do you say?"

Ezzelin pondered it for a moment before he said, "It sounds lovely, Jasper. Have Ferdi ready the carriage, you and I shall ride into London as soon as it's prepared."

Jasper finished clothing Ezzelin in his finest lynx fur-trimmed cloak made by the Mondadori's company. "My lord, you'll have some appointments come Saturday evening; would you have them travel to London as well?"

Ezzelin opened his brown eyes and stared blankly at Jasper's silver, flowing hair. "Phone them and inform them that I will be staying in my manor in London until further notice; we shall talk business there."

Jasper bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Once Jasper was out of the room, a thought had struck Ezzelin's mind: Do demons even enjoy operas?

Chuckling lowly to himself, he slid off of his bed and walked over to his vanity. Looking on top of it, he noticed his mother's silver locket lying there, open revealing a picture of Ezzelin and his father when he had just been born nearly a week prior to the photo. His father was quite the attractive man---he didn't appear human really---he had deep brown eyes and shoulder length black hair---he was a full-bred Italian man. Ezzelin's mother, on the other hand, had long platinum hair that she had always kept in dolly curls and stunning jade-coloured eyes that always appeared to hold a hidden sadness adorning her face.

Ezzelin held no true emotion of affection toward his parents, only the maternal feelings that came with his mother because of the fact that she'd bore him, but his father was a different case---he wasn't a real father to Ezzelin---he'd never shown his son a single ounce of compassion when he'd fallen and scraped his knees and elbows. He'd merely told him to get up and stop his whining about the blood and pain and to have his nursing maid tend to it.

"Tch," Ezzelin scoffed as he picked it up and traced his thumb along the image. "Some father you wa-"

"My lord," a velvety, suave voice said, breaking him from his angry thoughts.

Ezzelin shoved the necklace into his dark trench coat's pocket and swiftly turned to the man. "What is it, Jasp-" he paused and felt as shivers shot through his spine. "Wh-who are you?!" Ezzelin shouted as he glared at the strange Gothically-attired man standing in his door with both hands clasped together in the comfort of his long, loose black sleeves.

"I sounded quite well, don't you think?" he laughed as he walked closer to Ezzelin, a cheeky grin plastered on his, upon closer observation, scarred face. The Italian lad placed his left hand over his mouth and whispered an incoherent phrase into it. The long gray-haired man paused in his stride and seemingly stared at Ezzelin before saying, "Wait a second! You're not the one I was sent for." He bowed and turned away, waving his arm over his shoulder as he did so. "My sincerest of apologizes; this house was so large I nearly took the wrong soul!" he laughed so loudly, it had caused a tiny earthquake throughout Ezzelin's room; the bit of force had shaken the framed picture of he and his caretaker from his bedside table.

Just as the strange man had reached the door to exit, Jasper had halted him. "My oh my, aren't you quite the handsome devil." the man said in a British accent whilst gesturing his sleeve-covered hand at Jasper's face and the rest of his body.

Jasper blinked his red eyes at the man before drooping his shoulders and sweat dropping. Ezzelin, outraged by his butler's unwillingness to kill the intruding man, jabbed a finger at him. "Why are you just standing there like an idioto, Jasper?! Dispose of him already!"

Jasper glanced over to his upset master and shook his head. "My lord, this man---he isn't a man." he said as he gestured towards the grey-haired man standing next to him.

Ezzelin carried his gaze over to the abnormal man and raised a curious eyebrow at him. "Then what is he, Jasper?"

Jasper looked at the man then back to Ezzelin. "My lord, you must understand . . . He isn't like I, no . . . He's a grim reaper."

Ezzelin's brown eyes grew wide at this. "Wha-what do you mean he's a grim reaper?" he stuttered.

The reaper smirked. "Now, that that's over; I have business to attend to elsewhere in your labriynth of a home."

"Do you really expect me to allow you to wond-"

Before Ezzelin could finish his protest, Jasper had clasped his hand over his mouth and carried his lips down to his ear and whispered, "My lord, were I you, I'd watch my words around him---he's the most infamous reaper of them all and he may very well reap your soul---something I cannot allow."

Ezzelin muffled a phrase from behind Jasper's hand and squinted his eyes angrily at his butler.

The gray-haired reaper waved over his shoulder as he exited the room and said, "Be seeing you real soon, boy."

Just as the man was completely out of their hearing range, loud, frantic, clanking footsteps of wooden heels could be heard racing down the hallway toward Ezzelin's room; it was Mara---a new maid at the estate Mondadori. "My lord, Mondadori!" she shouted, her obsidian eyes staring hopelessly at him.

Jasper removed his hand from his tawny-haired master's mouth and stood back upright; examining the woman with a slightly piqued interest. "Parlare (Speak), Mara!" Ezzelin exclaimed, dusting off his already clean coat.

She frantically raced over to him and pointed her finger out of the room. "It's Ferdinando! He collapsed in the courtyard while he was tending to your red camellias!" Ezzelin's eyes widened as he looked up to Jasper.

"Jasper!" he shouted. "We must go to him immediately!"

Jasper bowed. "Shall I carry you, young master?" he asked.

"Yes! Quickly, Jasper; time is hastily dissipating from our lack of arriving there!"

His butler nodded and scooped up his master into his arms, then sped out of the room with exponential swiftness.