Hello my dear readers, this is my first foray into the world of Kuroshitsuji fanfics, so forgive me if there are any mistakes with characterisations etc. This story crossover with Kim Newman's Anno Dracula, an excellent vampire series set in the backdrop of Victorian England.

I wrote this on a whim after reading the book and the anime. Expect long periods of inaction it's my side project. In my opinion, Newman's universe is probably one of the best there is in terms of contemporary vampire fiction. It is also one of the most underappreciated works I've read. So please give it a go.

I wrote the last Bard snippets for the heck of it, I always wanted to explore more into the mansion's servants.

Review and tell me what you think!

Kuroshitsuji and Anno Dracula do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners.

"So it has come to this."

Ciel Phantomhive calmly sipped his tea. It was an excellent blend, picked from the British frontiers in India and shipped all the way across the world to England and all her colonies. It represented the very image of the British Empire as a colonial power. It was also something he enjoyed drinking.

It tasted bitter in his mouth. It was not the tea that offsetted his tastebuds. No, it was the man sitting in front of him that caused that bitter taste.

Lord Ruthven, the Prime Minister, sat across him. The man resembled a man in his youth but that was only a mask for his true age. Truthfully, Ciel did not know the exact age for the vampire elder. He presumed that he was at least two hundred years old.

"I'm afraid that with the new legislations our Prince Consort implemented, the Phantomhive Corporation is to be absorbed into Her Majesty's service. Of course you still have a saying as a member of the Board of Directors and even an allowance. It was originally your company after all."

Sebastian moved in to refill the cup for Ciel. The butler has stood attentively while the Prime Minster spoke the words that they dreaded to hear. It took all the will power of the young Phantomhive to not call the demon butler to rend the upstart limb from limb.

"You see, our Majesty believes that it is with the upmost priority that England's industrial firms are under the control of the state. I understand how a family business may be hard to put down." Ruthven said as he took a sip from his own tea cup.

The vampire had no need of conventional sustenance normal mortals would do, but just did it to maintain appearance. The manor did not have any quantities of blood available and Ciel would rather die than bare any one of his servant's neck for the bastard.

"My family has been managing the company for over a hundred years. It was through my father's work that we became England's leading goods producer. I will not give in what I rightfully own to some Romanian despot!"

"Lord Dracula," he said the name with emphasise, "is the Prince Consort of her majesty, Queen Victoria. Therefore, he is your liege lord as well. So no matter what you do, Earl of Phantomhive, you are to remember who you swore your oath to."

Ciel slammed his fist onto the table; his face was a mask of fury. Nobody reacted. Sebastian still had the look of abject neutrality, waiting patiently like a good butler he is. The Prime Minster paid more attention to the contents on the bottom of his tea cup.

"I swore in the name of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria! I will not kowtow like a mandarin peasant to this count!"

The prime minister shook his head sadly. He had a look that seemed to be patronising the younger Phantomhive.

"Frankly, I do not see why you are so negative with his, Ciel Phantomhive, we are giving you an option to go down quietly with your pride intact. We are even giving you a space in the future of your father's company."

Ciel snorted derisively. He did not buy that at all. "And just how much saying do you expect me to have?"

"Everyone has an equal saying within the-" Ciel interrupted the prime minster.

"Bullshit! You of all people know that only vampires have any real saying. I have not been blind, Ruthven, England has changed. Warm bloods like us have no place in this new world."

Ruthven chuckled lightly. "On the contrary, my dear Earl, you are not to be some public figurehead for the company. I understand the general consensus on my kind regarding our…sudden rise to privileged positions."

Ciel could not help but roll his eyes. Throughout all steps of the social order, the warm blooded were being replaced by vampires. It soon became apparent that public servants had to be offered the Dark Kiss in order to advance their way.

Sebastian moved in, his face bore the smiling image that puts many enemies off guard. "I'm sorry, Prime Minster, but it looks like we would be having lunch soon. My young master is to freshen up. Perhaps we shall have to reschedule this meeting another day?"

The tone the butler used showed that he would brook no further argument. Ruthven looked into the ruby red eyes of Sebastian. Those eyes reminded him of a predator. Inwardly, he shivered at that look. That was a rare thing for him.

"There is no need. I believe my business here is done for now." He rose from the chair and took out his pocket watch. "It seems that I would need to make my way to parliament, the Upper House is going on about the whole Indian debacle."

"Just leave." Ciel said with barley held contempt.

Ruthven stared at the young boy one final time before grabbing his coat and hat. "Farewell Earl Phantomhive. In the future, I hope for us to meet in more favourable conditions."

He watched the carriage depart the gates of the manor. Ciel stared as it passed beyond his eye sight. The prime minster was a nuisance, but it was just a symptom of what truly blighted England.

What had this world become?

He remembered when it was first announced. He stared at the headlines for the Morning Herald for a full minute in shocked silence.

Queen Victoria to wed Vlad Tepes, Prince of Wallachia.

This was news to him. Suddenly a whole new secret world had been uncovered before his eyes. Of course, with Sebastian, it wasn't hard to realise there was a realm of vampires and other dark creatures of the night.

Society changed overnight. People suddenly found the new vampire lifestyle much more favourable than normal conventional living. Of course it was tempting, the ability to live for all eternity appealed to some demographics. But it was something Ciel was disgusted with.

What use is eternity if you are nothing more than a leech preying on the blood of society?

Sebastian moved to fill another cup of tea. Its aroma failed to bring him out of his miseries.

"Master," Sebastian said, noticing Ciel's brow furrowing, "you don't seem to enjoy the usual Maria Johnson brand tea. Should I bring in a slice of strawberry cheesecake as well?"

Ciel waved the butler off. "There is no need. Lunch is almost ready anyway. It's just recent events have been…too fast for me to take it."

He took another glimpse at today's paper. "Look at it, Sebastian," he pointed at the paper, "another riot down at East End. Twenty dead. The Prince Consort's Carpathian Guards rampaged through slums unchecked!"

The riots at East End were sparked by some sort of revolutionaries demanding for the end of vampire rule. Mostly it was the Christian Crusaders causing the mess. The crackdown by Count Dracula was total. He had sent in the Carpathian Guards to crush the protesters.

The Prince Consort during his mortal life was famous for its use of impalement to punish his enemies. He practised this act in death too.

Ciel personally saw the impalement of the prisoners. Thirty screaming captives were brought before a forest of long stakes. One by one they were put through them. It took a very long time for them to die.

He gripped the newspaper harder. "The masses have been clamouring for more reforms! Vampire rights, warm blooded rights, Indian, Chinese, and Irish! This world is going to hell, Sebastian."

"My master, perhaps you should consider the new legislation passed by the Prince Consort?"

Ciel slumped into his chair. He let the cushioned seats envelope him. He brought his hand to massage his forehead; he lifted his eye patch to rub his left eye.

"Sod it all, I don't care anymore. We still have other firms overseas to control. At least until the Count's nefarious hold reaches them."

"Perhaps you should take up the offer of the Dark Kiss, my master? It would defiantly be something to push you through society."

Ciel eyed his butler critically. "I'm not going to be turned into one of those blood suckers. I pride myself in my humanity. I am not going to make a deal with the devil."

"Says the foolish master who made a pact with a demon." Sebastian commented slyly.

The paper weight impacted on the wall. Sebastian had moved a slight inch to the left. Otherwise, it would've left an unfortunate mark on that unblemished face.

"Perhaps my master is feeling the lack of sugar this afternoon; I shall go off and fetch that strawberry cheesecake."

He went out of the study, leaving Ciel alone. The young Phantomhive sat in his comfortable cushioned chair, sipping his cup of tea. His thoughts wondered off to what lay ahead for the future.

Serving in the Royal Sussex Regiment had been something he had cherished and cursed. Bard remembered his service years. When he took the Queen's shilling, he became a soldier. For Queen and country, as the saying goes.

Like everyone, he had started off as a private. Rescued from crippling poverty and thrown into the chaos that is the British Empire. Bard participated in some of the most intense conflicts in the world. From Somalia to India, he went through it all with the Royal Sussex.

Then there came the Crimea. He became the regimental sergeant major by then.

He remembered being in his khaki combat dress, a Lee-Martini held in his hands. Colonel Smithson, had ordered the unit to engage the Russian position. It seemed like an easy feat; capture the lightly defended Russian fort. Intelligence did not tell of the battery of howitzers stationed there.

Smithson led the charge, the colonel personally believed in the need for personal leadership. That's why he had led from the front. That's why he was the first to get cut down by the Russian barrage. The regiment was devastated. Bard barley managed to crawl into a fox hole.

He spent the night there. In the cold blood soaked battlefield. Bard's uniform was shredded. He had discarded his backpack and rifle hours ago.

He rocked back and forth in a comatose state. His ear drums were ringing with the sounds of explosions and the screams of dead men.

"Stupid! Stupid!" He mumbled the entire time. "Why did you do it?"

He heard the sounds of approaching horses and the coarse voices of a guttural language. The Russians are coming to get him.

He knew he would die when they see him. But he was too numbed to care.

"My, what do we have here?"

That voice barley registered in his ears. It was English, which was a surprise for him. He looked up and saw a man. What was most surprising was the manner in which he was dressed as. He was not dressed like a British soldier, nor was he Russian or Turkish. He was wearing a butler's attire.

He finally went crazy.