His Butler, Beloved {KuroWattyAwards 2014}

IX: His Butler | | Compromised

"You should not . . . " exhaled Jasper as he sliced his glistening blade across the chest of a man clad in a tattered gray suit, leaving a deep, two-inch gash through it, sending hot blood splattering all over his pure white vest, "disturb my master when he is eating!"

The man gurgled and sputtered out heaps of blood as he fell to his knees and stared into Jasper's emotionless crimson eyes. His body then lurched forwards and fell onto the grassy earth below.

Jasper shook his sword, removing the excess droplets of blood in the process. He then carried his gaze upward and smirked as he slid the sharp edge of the sword across his serpent-like tongue, savouring the bitter crimson tainting it.

The black-haired man trembled in his leather boots as he took a shaky step backwards, his deep blue eyes wide with fear and horror. "J-Just what a-are you?!" he asked, exasperated and in a French accent.

Jasper ran his gloved hand through his silver locks, causing them to shimmer in the full-moon's light. "Why, me?" he mockingly said, smiling and placing his sword at the ready beside of his head and right hand over his left breast as he bowed. "I am a creature with many names, but . . . for now . . . you may call me Jasper, the most enticing butler who can make any being fall to their knees and beg for my mercy."

Without giving the man an opportunity to retort or make any form of an offer, Jasper had flit himself in front of the man and whacked his sword sideways, beheading the quivering man. His lumpy head was sent flying across the short lawn, rolling, sending little droplets of blood all over the grass as it went.

Jasper walked over to the man's amputated head and raised his leg, then placed his foot atop the head. "I offer no mercy to those wishing to steal my master's essence away from me." He narrowed his eyes as they flashed a brilliant fuchsia colour, then used his foot to crush the man's head.

There was a sickening, crackling sound as he'd obliterated the head. "Pathetic beings, utterly pathetic." His eyes flashed back to their eery red colour as he jerked his foot free from the skull, it was now covered in mucky gray matter and blood. Shaking his head, he scoffed. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. It would seem I will have to clean up before I return to our guests and my lord's side."

With those final words, the butler began in his clean-up of the filthy bodies loitering the lawn.

****

"Oh? Shall I abolish that policy then, Monsieur?" asked Marie as she sipped from her glass of Mon de Sieux wine.

Ezzelin smirked and shook his head. "No, keep the policy intact; improvements aren't needed just yet."

Antony sighed before glancing over to the Arabian man to his right, he chuckled before patting the caramel man's yellow sash covered shoulder and smiling a lop-sided smile. "Tell me," he said, his words partially slurring, "do you believe in . . . magic?"

Ezzelin scoffed at the man's drunken ways and shook his head. "A man who cannot hold his wine isn't worthy of being in my presence until they've sobered."

"Oh," interrupted a velvety voice to Ezzelin's left, causing the tawny-haired lad to flinch and shift his brown orbs over.

"Jasper!" he exhaled, taking in the smiling face of his bowing butler.

The long silver-haired man opened his eyes and stood upward. "And here I thought that all this time you found drunkards to be quite amusing, my lord."

Ezzelin took a deep breath, then exhaled it as he situated his right leg over his left. "Only under certain circumstances do I enjoy entertaining myself with the company of a drunkard, Jasper."

Marie whisked a curled lock of her fiery hair and grinned to the butler. "I'm not sure whether this is the wine speaking through me," she paused and interlaced her fingers with one another and propped her chin atop them, "or if it's a fact that your butler is a ravishing specimen that I would so enjoy studying on my free time, Lord Mondadori."

Jasper placed his right hand over his heart and bowed to the woman, shocking her momentarily. "Madame, if I might be so bold as to suggest that we speak on this matter at another time," he said as he stood upright again. He subtly winked and smirked. "Perhaps in your quarters later."

The fourteen-year-old master groaned as he massaged his temples at the two. "Could you not insuate carnal things while at the dining table in front of the other guests, Madame Marie?"

The woman blushed out of embarrassment then took a long drink of her wine. "Mhm," she mumbled as she greedily chugged the burning, yet sweet beverage.

"Apologies, young master," said Jasper as he placed his white-gloved hand over Ezzelin's shoulder. "Would you like for me to escort our stewed (drunken) guest to his quarters?"

Ezzelin peered over at Antony as the man traced his index finger down the Arabian man's cheek and pooched out his lips. The boy cringed then cleared his throat. "Yes, please do guide this man to his quarters . . . he's unnerving to watch and upsetting the peace of our guests."

"Very well," replied Jasper as he walked over to Antony and tapped his finger lightly on the man's shoulder.

Antony groggily carried his bloodshot eyes over to Jasper and hiccupped. "Wha-What do you think you're do-doing?" he said, his voice in shock as the silver-haired man pulled him from his chair. "Hey! H-Hey!"

Jasper closed his eyes and smiled to the man. "My lord wishes for you to be escorted safely to your quarters, thus I shall do as commanded." He opened his eyes and stared almost hungrily at Antony. "Please do not fight, for I fear not about using force to place you within your bed."

Ezzelin smirked at his butler as he practically lugged Antony's drunken form out of the dining hall. Your blood lust should be satisfied by now, he thought, propping his cheek against his knuckles and shifting his gaze over to Marie, il mio amico demoniaco (my demonic friend).

"Tell me, Monsieur Mondadori, have you heard of what happened to the sweet Countess Rosa?" she asked, interlacing her fingers and sitting her chin atop them.

Ezzelin sighed and shook his head, disapprovingly. "Yes. I read of it in the paper from a few weeks ago." he answered as he sipped from his virgin red wine. "It was such a revolting death."

She nodded in agreement before her deep, emerald eyes fixated on the boy. "Twas' also strange because of how close in proximity it was to your manor, Lord Mondadori."

Ezzelin furrowed his eyebrows and sat down his glass, his dark gaze situated on his crumb-covered plate. "Such a coincidence makes me seem a suspect," he said, his tone sincere as he continued, "I've been troubled with the thoughts that others might link me with her death." He absentmindedly shrugged as he sat back and relaxed within his seat. "Alas, such accusations would be an outrage for she was a beloved acquaintance, the Countess. I had cared for her child as if she were my own little sister for weeks."

"Which is what makes you all the more suspicious, Monsieur."

Ezzelin hooded his features. "Marie, I assure you, of all things I have done, bringing about the death of one of my closest partners . . . is not one of them."

The fiery-haired woman leaned back in her tall chair and closed her eyes, smiling in a pleased manner to herself. "I believe you, Monsieur," she said. Peeking open her right eye, she shifted it between each of the guests present around the long table. "However . . . others might not find your alibi so true."

Ezzelin's eyes wavered when he dragged them upward and noticed the suspicious looks his guests were giving him.

I've been . . . compromised.

*****

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