A/N: Hey, guys. Here's a one-shot about when Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finny began to work at the manor.

That Butler, Teaching

I stared at the three individuals in front of me and prayed for strength. And patience. A great, great deal of patience. I had a feeling I would need it.

What had I been thinking when I'd hired these three? What had possessed me? Where had my mind been? I knew that I'd been thinking of the master's safety when I hired these three disreputable individuals, but why hadn't I considered all the ramifications of such an action? Didn't I realize just how complicated having them around could make my life?

No, no, I had not. Instead, I'd thought only of fulfilling my duty to my master. Now, I was saddled with three of the most unusual humans I could ever remember meeting, and it was up to me to train them in their duties and fix any mistakes or mishaps while still fulfilling all my duties and seeing to it that the young master was not in any way inconvenienced.

Why did I set myself such impossible tasks? I might be one hell of a butler, but I was only demon, after all.

"Now then, you all made Tanaka's and my acquaintance last night," I said, still marveling at how quickly they'd lined themselves up when I entered the room. "And you've introduced yourselves to each other. That's good. The kitchen, back hallways, the attic rooms, and belowstairs are all the servants' areas of the house and unless you are engaged in a specific task outside them, I'll expect you to spend most of your time there. Today you'll be engaged in simple tasks so you can get your feet under you, so to speak. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian!" they chorused.

Why on earth were they so cheerful? Their lives had changed very quickly in a short amount of time, shouldn't they be…more unsettled? A bit uncertain? Hmm. "All right. Bard, you'll be preparing the soup for today's lunch. The recipe and instructions have already been laid out for you on the counter next to the stove. I'll be by in a little while to check your progress."

"Right, Sebastian. Thanks!" He grinned at me and idly I wondered if the soldier-turned-chef was ever without a cigarette in his mouth.

"Mey-Rin, you'll be taking care of the linens today," I told her. "They're in a basket on the counter in the laundry room. I've left written instructions for you, so you should have no problems."

"Y-y-yes, sir," she stammered, staring at me. Why on earth was she blushing? "I'll do just fine, yes!"

"Good to hear," I said. "Now, Finny, your job will be to weed the courtyard this morning. Just...pull the weeds. That's all. There's a basket you can put them in so you can carry them to the compost heap. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Sebastian!" he said brightly.

"Good," I said. "You all have your orders, so off you go. I have to get back to the young master."

"YES, SIR!"

It was a very good thing that I was a demon. If I'd been human, my hearing would have been damaged. I left the three of them to their duties (and Mr. Tanaka to his tea) and went back upstairs to the young master's study. He was busy with reviewing the homework his governesses had given him and preparing for his lessons at ten o'clock. I found him where I'd left him, deep in an examination of French verbs.

"Everything all right downstairs?" he asked, barely glancing up from his work.

"So far, so good, young master," I said blithely. "They all seemed very eager to begin work."

He shook his head. "I still don't understand why you wanted to hire more staff, Sebastian. You're not human; you don't need to sleep or eat. You have ample time to see to everything."

"That's as may be, young master, but there will be times when I will need help with your protection," I explained. "With the three of them to help me, I'll be able to protect you that much more effectively." (Belatedly I remembered my misgivings from earlier and wondered where they'd gone. Now I was trying to assure the young master that everything was fine now that I'd hired those three!)

"I don't see how," he muttered. "You're a demon. Three humans to help you doesn't make sense."

"These three..." I said thoughtfully. "They have considerable abilities that could be very useful for your protection, young master. Mey-Rin can see far away and is the best sniper I've seen, and considering my age and all that I've seen, that's saying something. Bard is an expert in tactics and weaponry, and Finny..."

"...is an idiot," my master said flatly, glancing out the window into the garden. "I've heard him chattering, and right now he's running around outside like the lack-wit he is and waving hello to the birds. Where on earth did you find him?"

"In a secret underground laboratory, being forced to fight his friends to the death. When he wasn't doing that, he was either being injected full of serums to make him stronger or kept prisoner in an underground room with only one tiny window."

My master paused and looked at me. He was pale, and I could tell what he was thinking. He and Finny had had somewhat similar horrific experiences at the hands of callous adults, yet they'd turned out rather differently. He looked out the window again, looking thoughtful. "He's strong?"

"Very, young master. He has about half my strength, which, for a human, is considerable."

My master didn't say anything but continued to watch Finny through the glass. Finny was only a few years older than the young master but he seemed so much more child-like than my master was. He took intense pleasure in being outside and was vocal about it, and while I knew the young master felt the same way about being outside, I never heard anything more on the subject from him other than a general comment on the weather. Two children, similar experiences, but very different results. Hmm.

"Very well," he said at last. "I'll leave it to you."

"Please do, sir," I suggested. "May I bring you anything to drink?"

"Tea."

I hurried to fetch the tea (Fortnum & Mason's Royal Blend) and I was just finishing pouring it when...

CRRRRACCK!

"What was that?" my master demanded, whipping around in his chair.

"WAAAHH! OOOHHH NOOOOO!"

"Ah, it appears that Finny has met with some misfortune," I said, glancing quickly out the window. "If you'll excuse me, young master, I'll just go see what I can do."

He nodded and I left the room so fast that he probably didn't see me go. I went out and found Finny crouched by the remains of a fine old spruce (which was now kindling), bawling.

"Finny, what happened?" I asked.

"WAAH-AAAH! MR. SEBASTIAN! I'M SO SORRY-EEEE!"

"Are you hurt?" I asked, reminding myself to be patient.

He shook his head, still sobbing and trying to speak.

"I can't understand you if you keep crying," I told him. "Try to calm yourself and then tell me what happened."

"I w-was p-p-pulling up w-weeds and I tr-tripped and f-fell against th-the tr-tree-eeee!" he stammered. "I'm sorreeeeeeee!"

I sighed. I'd suspected something like that. Still, what he'd done to the tree merely by falling against it was proof of his strength all over again.

"In the future, keep your shoelaces tied," I told him, kneeling down to rectify the source of the problem. "I know you're not used to wearing shoes yet, but keeping the laces tied will solve the problem of tripping, all right?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Sebastian..." he hiccupped.

"All right, then," I said. "Go ahead and clean this up and stack the wood at the back of the house near the kitchen door. We may be able to find a use for it. Once you're done with that, finish your weeding."

"I-is th-the y-young m-m-master g-g-going t-to s-send m-me away?"

"Certainly not. Now, take care of the tree and finish your weeding. Things will be all right."

I was to learn quickly that Finny's disposition was one that tended toward sunny on even the cloudiest days. By the time I'd made it back to the master's study, I could hear Finny chattering away outside, blithely clearing up the debris his clumsiness had caused. Incredible. My master gave me a look that let me know he was not at all pleased, but he didn't say anything. That meant that he was going to bear with it. Thank goodness for small mercies.

BOOOM!

My master looked up from his French and sighed. "Finny again? How did he get into the house so fast?"

"Judging from the proximity of the sound...that came from the kitchen, young master. I'd best go see what that was." I was just slipping out the door when I heard the young master.

"Honestly..."

I echoed the sentiment once I reached the kitchen. The white walls were now shaded gray with ash and near the stove the floor was charred black. What on earth had Bard done?

"Bard? Bard?"

"Oowww."

Oh, good. At least he was alive. Where was he? There was debris everywhere and what looked like a pile of rubbish lying in front of the stove...no, wait, that was Bard. Singed, but alive.

"What did you do?" I asked, staring that the metal remains of...something...scattered around him.

Bard coughed and sat up. "Ah, the soup was taking a little long to cook, so I...used my flamethrower."

I was speechless and I fought down the sudden urge to wring his neck. "Soup takes a while to cook, Bard. Are you hurt?"

"Just a little sooty."

"What on earth possessed you to use a flamethrower?"

"Hey, don' knock it," he said lightly, picking the remains of himself off the floor and giving a grin. "Cooking is art! Art is explosions!"

"If you keep exploding things there will be precious little left edible in the house," I pointed out to him wryly. While I set him to brushing ash off walls and carting away the remains of what he'd been trying to cook, I put together a creamy mushroom soup that my master had expressed a liking for a few months ago. With shiitake and maitake mushrooms in it, it was a powerhouse of nutrients that would benefit my master's health. Once I put it to simmer I took the advantage of making the rest of lunch while there were still viands left in the larder and pantry. I paired salmon steaks with a spinach and walnut salad, brushed bread with a garlic-butter sauce and broiled it after sprinkling it with cheese, and for dessert, berry shortcake with brandy sauce. Hopefully my young master would enjoy his lunch today.

I left Bard to do the washing up and forbade him from touching anything on the stove or what was keeping warm in the oven. I was headed back to the young master when...

"GAAAAAH!"

I should have known that the third one would run into difficulties as well, but I was an optimistic person by nature.

"Mey-Rin?" I said, poking my head into the laundry room. "What's wrong?"

I needn't have asked. Bubbles, bubbles everywhere, and not a bit of laundry in sight. Or a maid, for that matter. "Mey-Rin?"

"M-m-mister S-s-sebastian?"

"Are you all right, Mey-Rin?" I asked, trying to spot her amongst the bubbles. "Where are you?"

I saw a mound of bubbles move and if I looked carefully, I could spot her within it. She looked like one of the snowpeople that children made in winter, except that she looked like one facing its demise during spring thaw. "Here I am," she said. "I-I-I d-don't kn-know w-w-what h-happened!"

"It looks like you added too much detergent to the wash," I said, regarding the woeful sight in front of me. The only thing not soaked in bubbles was a towel on the towel rack, so I handed it to her. "Wipe off as much as you can and then go upstairs and change," I told her. "I'll take care of things here."

"Th-th-thank you!" she stammered, wrapping herself up in the towel and scuttering away.

I mopped, wiped, rinsed, mopped again, rinsed and hung up the clean laundry, and then returned to the young master.

"Regretting hiring them now?" my young master said snidely. "All of that would have gone faster if you'd handled it yourself in the first place."

"I think I may agree with you, young master," I sighed. "Still, they have their uses."

For a moment, he looked alarmed. "They're not snacks, Sebastian. This is an order."

Oh, there were times when he could be so amusing! Did he honestly think I would eat them? "Understood, sir."

"Hmph."

I looked at my master carefully and realized that he was in an incredibly ugly mood. Something had happened...would he tell me, or would I have to guess? I rushed my eyes over his desk and fought down a smile. "Is there anything wrong, young master?"

"Don't pester me," he muttered, glancing at the clock.

I was thankful it was almost lunchtime. "Well, young master, I shall leave you for the time being while I prepare the dining room for your lunch."

He waved me out but I heard him growl as I shut the door. "If they haven't broken everything..."

I made my way downstairs, thinking about what I'd seen. Books closed, papers tucked away, and a grumpy master. It looked as if his governesses would not be coming today, even after he'd done all that preparation. I'd heard the telephone ring at some point during the chaos, and logic said that Tanaka had been the one to answer and convey any messages to the master. So, my master would not be having lessons today...not with the lady governesses, at least.

Everything for lunch was in place within minutes. While I set the table I showed all three of our new servants what went into an informal place setting and how the master should be served.

"Always, always, ALWAYS from the left," I told them firmly. "If you serve from the right, you'll earn the young master's scorn."

Eager nods and scribbling in notebooks.

"Good. Any questions?"

Bard's hand went up. "Sebastian? How do you know which piece of silverware to put where?"

"By its function," I explained, pointing to the silverware I'd set up. "They're placed according to which utensils are used first, so the ones used first are placed on the outside and the diner works his way in by course. You'll see once the young master begins to eat. When you set the table, never hide the utensils under the rim of the serving plate. Knives are always laid with the blades facing in. Forks are laid with tines pointing up. Now, places, please."

I returned to the study and announced that lunch was ready and escorted my master to the dining room. He ignored the three of them, gave a nod to Tanaka, and began his meal. As we progressed through the courses I saw that they took note of which utensil he used. First there was the soup spoon, then the butter knife used on his bread, then the salad knife and fork, and then the fish knife and fork. After each course I removed the dishes from the service plate from the right and served the master the next course from the left. He dawdled over dessert with a cup of tea while I assigned clean-up chores to the other servants. When my master returned to the study, I followed him silently. He didn't know I was there until he turned around and almost planted his face in my waistcoat.

"Gaaah!" he yelped, leaping away. "Don't do that!"

"My apologies, young master," I said, mightily amused. "Was there something you wanted?"

"I left a book in my room and I was going to go get it so I could read in here."

"I will fetch it for you, if you like," I offered with a smile. Odd that he hadn't asked me to perform such a mundane task. Perhaps he did not want me to know that he was whiling the time away by reading? I knew what to do about that. "On the condition that you'll attend to your lessons first."

He gave me an annoyed look. "Madame Bright and Madame Rodkin aren't coming today. The road's nothing but mud due to last night's rain and their carriage can't get through. Tanaka took the call earlier."

Ah, so my surmise had been correct. "And you'd done all that work this morning, too."

"It doesn't matter, so I'm going to read something," he told me.

"I think you've misunderstood me, young master," I said with a little smile. "I am more than perfectly capable of tutoring you in place of your teachers."

He stared at me. "A butler? Don't be ridiculous."

"Ah, but I am a devil of a butler, young master. I know you don't wish to fall behind in your lessons, my lord," I said lightly. "On the agenda today you were slated to study French, history, mathematics, piano, and violin. Isn't that correct?"

"What of it?"

"I can teach you. Which would you like to start with?"

Once again, he was staring at me. "You're not a tutor."

"But I am one hell of a butler, sir," I countered. "Wherever would I be if I could not accomplish such a task as this?"

I could tell that he was seriously considering it.

"We can inform the lady governesses of your progress, of course," I told him, removing a potential sticking point. "That way, they'll know you were doing your work while they were not here to oversee it and they won't want to cover the same material with you."

"Very well, then," he said, taking his seat in his chair. "Let's go to the library, but if you bore me..."

"I don't think I'll bore you, young master," I opined. "I can be quite a good teacher."

The master's lessons were usually held in the library and music room. It looked like he wanted to get the academic work out of the way first before we progressed to the music lessons, which I knew he much preferred to his other lessons. I carried the books my master had been working with and set them on the table, but I stopped him when he reached for his French grammar.

"I thought we were having lessons," he said tightly, his patience already on a knife's edge.

"It is my policy to challenge my students, young master," I told him. "We will return to grammar in a bit. Let us first do a little translation."

He winced. Students rarely enjoyed translation. "I'd rather not."

"Now, now, young master," I said. "As your instructor, I have your academic progress in mind. Please trust me to carry out the lesson."

I could tell that he was gritting his teeth. "Very well."

I turned to the shelves and selected a book and placed it in front of my master.

"Les Miserables?" he read.

"Yes, young master," I said, opening the book to the passage I wished him to read. "I'd like you to read this aloud first in French, and then I'd like you to read it aloud again in your own translation in English." It was the passage where Jean Valjean and Cosette met and went to the Thenardier inn. For some reason, it was a striking passage, for all its simplicity, and it would do admirably for my master's lesson.

He began to read aloud. His accent was quite good and the few times he mispronounced a word I had him repeat it until the pronunciation was correct.

"Tres bien, jeune monsieur," I said as soon he finished. "Parfait. Maintenant, lisez le passsage encore une fois, mais en anglais, s'il vous plait."

He did so, his syntax a bit off, but admirable nonetheless. Just as I would expect from my young master. "Very good!" I complimented him. "When Valjean took the bucket, though, it would have been permissible to say, 'What you are carrying must be very heavy for you, my child' rather than 'That is very heavy for you, my child, that you are carrying there.'"

"It's French," he said flatly. "Word order doesn't matter as long as it's pronounced properly."

I chuckled. I'd heard the same thing said many times, for some reason, but the joke didn't really make sense to me. In any language, in any land, and to any speaker, word order was important. Otherwise, what one heard would be nothing but gibberish. "I'm sure a native Frenchman wouldn't agree with you, young, master, but no matter. Now, let's parse this paragraph, shall we?"

He stared at me in abject horror. "Parse?"

"Come, come, young master," I teased. "Surely a little parsing is nothing to be afraid of?"

If translating a passage from one language to another was torturous, then this exercise would be pure hell for a student. Perfect. I was sure that my young master would do admirably. For the next hour he struggled with nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, articles and pronouns, and he battled a foreign grammatical structure, but at last he emerged from the fray triumphant. The resulting parsing exercise was absolutely perfect. Even the handwriting was an example of the finest. "Well done, young master."

"I hate parsing," he complained, resting his forehead on the table in front of him.

"Well, I think you're doing wonderfully," I told him. "If this is how you do when you hate something, I wonder how well you'll do when you love to do something."

I could tell my praise had pleased him. "Hmph. What next?"

"Dictation."

He groaned. "Are you serious, Sebastian?"

Once again, I'd come up against one of those odd human questions that failed to make sense to me. I was certain that I was serious. Why did he think I wasn't? "Yes, young master."

The dictation did not take long. I read aloud a passage in French while my young master wrote it down in his exercise notebook. I gave him a few minutes at the end of the exercise to check over his work and make a few corrections and then he handed the assignment to me.

Perfect. He had a good ear for languages, apparently. "Very good, young master," I told him. "Well done. Now, it is time for conversation."

He looked grumpy and as if he were about to lose his patience. "Madame Bright and Madame Rodkin never make me do this much work for just one lesson."

"If they did then perhaps you might make more progress, young master," I said lightly, opening his book to the appropriate page. On it was the conversation I was hoping for. "Now, you shall be the gentleman, and I shall speak the lady's part."

After the conversation I gave him a composition assignment, where he had to write, in French, a description of the Merovingian kings and why their reign ended. Twenty minutes later he handed the final copy to me, looking thoroughly fed up. "Are we finished with French now?"

I bit back a smile. "Yes, young master, I think this has been an admirable lesson. Shall we do your music lessons next or continue with the academic work?"

Was it just me, or did I see a hint of apprehension (or was it dread?) in his eyes?

"Since we're already here, let's keep on with the schoolwork," he sighed. "History or mathematics?"

"Which would you prefer, young master?"

He thought for a moment. "Mathematics."

On the ladies' lesson plan for the day was a review of geometric formulas, and it wasn't long before the young master was calculating area and volume of different solids. I could tell that he was doing the work easily and was actually rather bored with it. Hmmm. He needed a challenge. "Very good, young master," I told him when he finished the last exercise. "I wonder, do you know how to solve for different terms within the formulas?"

He looked apprehensive again. "Um...no. What are you talking about?"

I went to the blackboard in the corner and wrote the formula for the area of a triangle. A = (1/2)bh.

He stared at it. "All right. What is it you're getting at?"

"Say you had the area and the base, but you did not have the quantity for height," I explained. "How would you arrange the formula so it would be set up for the calculation for height?"

He considered the problem and for the first time during our mathematics lesson, there was a spark of interest. I knew the young master enjoyed finding multiple ways to accomplish things, so this sort of lesson would appeal to him. It wasn't long before he joined me at the blackboard, considering the formula and how one might change it to suit one's needs. After another minute or so he hit on the answer: dividing both sides by (1/2)b would allow one to use the formula to solve for h.

"Excellent work!" I said, erasing the board. "Just what I would expect from the young master." I began writing again, putting up more formulas on the board and specific quantities for each letter as well as the terms he was to solve for. "Why don't you try these exercises on your own?"

He went to work with a pencil and paper at his seat and twenty-five minutes later he completed the last exercise and handed it in to me. I checked his work, smiled, and tucked it away into the portfolio that held his written work for his governesses. "Very good, young master. Shall we take a short break or press on? For history today you're slated to study how the war with Napoleon influenced trade and commerce in England."

"Let's press on," he said, setting his mathematics book aside.

Within minutes we were deep in a discussion of how the aforementioned war had influenced England. War was always disastrous for any nation since it pushed prices of domestic goods up, shrank the available labor force and restricted trade, but this one had been very difficult since there were also the latest effects due to industrialization already taking place. The Luddite riots had been the result in Nottingham. We summed the lesson up with an essay on the economic effects of the Napoleonic wars and why the popular response to them had been so violent. I was just tucking the assignment away when I heard a bit of trouble going on downstairs.

"Well done, young master," I said, tidying things up. "You've been very diligent in your work today. Your governesses will be impressed. Since it is almost time for afternoon tea, I shall take the liberty of preparing it and after tea we will continue with your lessons. Would that be agreeable?"

"Quite, Sebastian. I hope you're making something sweet to go with tea. I think I've earned it."

He'd more than earned it. "Of course, bocchan."

I knew just the thing to make. I'd noticed that he rather liked scones with lemon curd, so I planned to whip up a batch of scones, make lemon curd, cut sandwiches, and carefully make a perfect pot of tea, but that was not to be. I arrived in the kitchen to find it in chaos. Servants were running about and shouting, and I could smell scorched and burnt food. What...why on earth were they running about? Were they chasing something?

I caught a glimpse of something tiny and black and...oh. Oh, my. Well. If she were the cause of all of this, then I supposed such chaos could be forgiven...Without thinking, I swooped down and picked up the tiny black cat that those three miscreants were chasing. "Bard! Mey-Rin! Finny! Stop at once!"

They stopped.

"Now, how did this little lovely get into the kitchen?"

"I opened the door to take the rubbish out, and she ran in," Bard explained. "I dunno if the young master would like a cat in his house, so I tried to chase her, but then Mey-Rin came in and saw her and started chasing her and Finny came in and started chasing..."

"And while the three of you were running about, whatever you had in the oven burned and the tea water all boiled away," I finished. "Bard, what were you making?"

"Ah...cake. For the master's tea."

I was impressed. He'd taken the initiative, at least. "All right, everyone. Why don't you start tidying up while I get this little beauty settled somewhere?"

They were happy enough to do the cleaning up while I took my prize to the garden for a few moments of blissful peace. Soon she was happily munching on a plate of shredded salmon and I was listening to a symphony of purring.

"Now, now," I chided her. "You mustn't gobble your food. There is plenty more if you are still hungry later." I decided I wouldn't tell the young master about her. He really didn't care for cats since they made him sneeze.

"Mrow?" she said, looking up at me while washing her face. I could still hear the purring.

"Ah, you are sublime," I said, scratching behind her ears. "If you are still here later, I will bring you some milk, all right?"

She purred her agreement and I took her empty plate back to the kitchen. Once I was there I rushed through the tea preparations. I left three very exhausted servants in the kitchen (they'd helped me prepare the tray) and presented tea to the master on time. The feast of apple cream cake, sweet scones with butter and lemon curd, fresh strawberries, and tea were certainly appreciated, although he did not say so. As soon as the young master was finished, I tidied everything away and we continued his lessons with a sign posted on the music room door, "Do Not Disturb."

"Chopin's Etude in E Minor?" my young master read when he took his seat at the piano. "I won't be able to play this! It's too advanced!"

"You'll gain confidence in your abilities if you master difficult pieces," I told him. "Now, let's hear what you make of it."

He sighed. "All right. You're a glutton for punishment, Sebastian."

He didn't do too badly for his first time playing it. He had only a few little missteps and then during his second time playing the piece he corrected his mistakes. His third time playing it we were working on the dynamics and timing when a knock came from the door.

The discordant notes made me wince.

"Don't they know not to interrupt a music lesson?" my young master snarled.

"Yes?" I called.

Finny opened the door. "There's a phone call for the young master, and the man on the other end says it's urgent," he reported.

"What are you doing, interrupting like this? Didn't you see the sign?" my master demanded, brushing aside news of the phone call. He was really rather irritated.

"Yes, sir," Finny said, sounding rather ashamed. "I saw it, but..."

"So you chose to ignore it?" my master pressed.

"Oh, no! No, I...I...c-can't read..."

My master absorbed this news. "Did you know about this, Sebastian?"

"I am sorry, young master, but I did not," I confessed. "I should have known better."

Finny looked at our grim faces and began to shiver. "Am I going to be discharged?" he asked.

My master shook his head and slid from the piano bench. "No. I'm going to take that phone call. Sebastian, this is an order. Teach him how to read."

I smiled. Poor Finny didn't know what he was getting into with me as a teacher. My young master certainly didn't have a merciful bone in his body, did he? "Yes, my lord."

A/N: I thought I'd do a story where Sebastian's teaching Ciel, but then I thought, why stop there? The French is translated as: Very good, young master. Perfect. Now, read the passage once more, but in English, if you please.