His Butler, Beloved {KuroWattyAwards 2014}

XIII: His Butler | | A Messenger

Big Ben in London's town square had just struck midnight, sending ominous chimes echoing throughout the air. As Jasper's fiery, crimson wings fought meekly against the brisk, night air, Ezzelin kept his gaze focused on the passing scenery below. His mind was blurring with each passing second at the thought of just what Sebastian had meant when he had said, "You humor me with your feigned idiocy, Luca---treating me as if I were beneath you and your veiled ploy."

Luca. thought Ezzelin, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder and examined Jasper's stony features, why the hell would he refer to you as that? The boy's eyes swiftly averted as the silver-haired man looked over at him, his flaming eyes containing not a single ounce of amusement as he'd done so.

"We are nearing your manor, young master," he announced, his voice emotionless and bored.

Sighing, Ezzelin ignored his welled up fear and nodded his head. "Make it quick, I grow weary of this peasant land."

〜〜〜＊〜〜〜

They arrived at the foot of the steps that lead to the manor's main front door. Jasper had gently placed Ezzelin upon the ground and brushed the lad's silk pajamas off with his black-gloved hands. The lanky butler allowed the young boy to go ahead of himself as he dispersed the wings and allowed them to fall to the cobblestone, forming a bloody pile, then dissolving in-between the cracks.

Ezzelin stood in front of the large, menacing door, his onyx eyes fixated on the silver knob as his hand enveloped it, then twisted it to the right. The door opened, creaking along the way as it revealed his dark and empty home. Glancing down at his bare feet, the boy internally scoffed and waved his butler along with a single motion of his left hand. "Come, Jasper, I require a bath as well as something that doesn't smell of putrid, soured milk after being left on me for hours on end in a damp environment of rotting men."

Subtly nodding, Jasper rushed past the boy and made his way up the lobby's stairs to Ezzelin's bedroom, where the tub was located within the next room. All the while, the tawny haired boy watched as his butler left his sight, his dark eyes narrowed for a moment before a gentle sneeze caught his ear from his study adjacent to the main front door.

Cautiously tiptoeing his way towards the few stairs that led down and into the room beneath his balcony, Ezzelin clasped the silver handle and twisted it, allowing not a single click to escape as he eased the door open. Something tells me that there's someone here who shouldn't be . . . he thought as he entered the candle-lit room, his bare feet making a light scuffing sound against the smooth, marble flooring as he delved further into the study.

A low, soft chuckle seemingly filled the room, causing the lad's heart to fasten into a rabbit-like rhythm. There were subtle creaks that resounded from the tall ceiling above him. As his eyes searched the dimly-lit study, he noticed an unfamiliar book lying on the floor beside the intricate, red recliner-like chair in the center of the room: a Holy Bible, its ancient, leather-binding and parchment pages reflecting the many hands it had been held within.

"I see you've a keen eye for something that is out of the ordinary, Mondadori D. Ezzelin. A rather unusual trait amongst your kind."

The young brunette's gaze swiftly shifted from the Bible, to the ceiling above him. What he saw fascinated, yet horrified him at the same moment: it was a pale woman her skin illuminating like the moon itself with her hair a shade resembling that of hay, its short length barely reaching her ears. However, the feature that most intrigued him was her gentle orange eyes, the pupil barely evident in the distance she was to him.

"Wh-Who are you and what on earth are you doing in my estate?!" asked Ezzelin, his right hand clutching the hem of his silk top and eyes fixated on the woman's pale yellow gown that seemingly fought against gravity and remained crisply against the ceiling, enveloping her bare feet. "I have no patience for intrude--"

The woman suddenly stretched her arms out at her sides and closed her eyes. She kicked off from the ceiling and smoothly back-flipped mid-air. Her feet never touched the ground, rather held an elegant form as they hovered almost five feet from the floor. "I merely bring word of a coming woe," she paused and glanced above her head at the light tapping of the floorboards on the balcony. "I fear my stay here will be slightly shortened by an approaching fiend."

Ezzelin narrowed his eyes and listened as they faded towards the stairs leading from the upper floor. Shifting his gaze back to the levitating, strange woman, the lad subtly nodded. "Speak your warning before that time comes then."

"As you wish," she replied, her ember-like eyes seemingly boring into the boy's near onyx ones. "There will soon come a great and terrible blaze; the fire will purge all that is deemed unholy by a particular, familiar being my Lord knows all too well of. He has seen the impurity of this angel's soul, yet knows it is unjust of himself to slay one of his subordinates with his own hands. Therefore, he has left such a task to a demon by the given name of Michaelis Sebastian. If you remain here . . . you will surely perish. I have come to inform you that it would be of your best interest to leave before morning comes; your life depends on it, Mondadori D. Ezzelin."

The teenager lowered his gaze to the floor, attempting to take in all of the information that the woman had just shared with him. Inhaling a deep breath, he slowly nodded to himself. When he looked back up where the glowing woman had been, she was no longer there. She spoke of angels as if she were one as well, he thought, as he turned on his heel and walked back up the few stairs that led back into the main hall of his manor, I suppose it wouldn't surprise me if she were one as well.

Before his hand could envelop the pearly-silver knob, the door had opened and within its way towered a ghastly, familiar man, his crimson eyes glaring down at the boy. Ezzelin's heart fluttered for a moment at the sudden startle he'd endured from his near unexpected encounter with his butler. "What is it, Jaspe---"

The silver-haired, malevolent fellow closed his eyes. A vile smile quickly etching his wide lips. "Your bath is prepared . . . my Lord."