• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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A Sense of Chivalry (New)

A Sense of Chivalry

Once more, Ciel stood upon the doorstep of her family home. She lingered there, hesitating, unable to raise her hand and knock upon the door.

“Hey,” Neon said, placing a hand upon Ciel’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Of course, this time, she did not stand here alone.

Ciel glanced at her. “I don’t feel okay,” she murmured.

Neon’s eyebrows rose. “Clearly not; you used a contraction.”

“I use contractions,” Ciel replied. “Sometimes.”

“Not often,” Neon pointed out.

“No,” Ciel admitted. “Not often.”

Neon gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “You do not have to be here, you know.”

Neon grinned. “My mom’s been working night and day getting that new hotel ready for the big opening; if I don’t stick with you, it’ll be cheap takeout or the greasy spoon round the corner for me tonight.”

Ciel’s lips twitched upwards. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll find we have both missed dinner tonight.”

“Ah well,” Neon said. “That’s a pity.” She smiled. “That being the case, I don’t suppose you want to go and grab some crappy overpriced hamburgers?”

Ciel snorted. “No, although the offer is far more tempting than it has any right to be. But no. I should go inside.”

“If you say so,” Neon said, making no move to go anywhere.

“Thank you,” Ciel said softly.

“Stop thanking me all the time; it’s weird,” Neon said. “Let’s … let’s just take it as read that you’re grateful, huh. No need to mention it again. You’ve made me aware. You’ve made me well aware.”

“Okay,” Ciel whispered. She looked at the door. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her cloak. “What are we going to say?”

“That Mrs. Peterson died?” Neon suggested. “That we … assisted in the arrest of her murderer?”

“That,” Ciel said, “is putting it rather mildly, don’t you think?”

“It’s not a lie,” Neon said.

“The part about the arrest is,” Ciel pointed out.

“Do you want to tell your family that we saw the Happy Huntresses—”

“Murder someone, and then we walked away?” Ciel asked. Her voice dropped. “No. No, the prospect does not excite me.”

“I was going to say kill, not murder,” Neon murmured.

“Is there a difference?”

“Murder is a little more judgemental,” said Neon.

Ciel looked at her. “Do you not think that the act of taking a life deserves a little judgement?”

“The guy bashed an old woman’s head in so that he could steal her stuff,” Neon said. “Forgive if I don’t cry for him.”

“The Lady teaches us that—”

“That vengeance belongs to God, not to man,” Neon finished for her. “I know. But still … forgive me if I’m not hung up on it. Or if I didn’t want to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it.”

“No one wanted to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it,” Ciel murmured, “but that does not mean I want to admit that we did not. We will say that … we will say that he died before he could be taken into custody. I doubt that Mother will ask any further questions on the matter. She will be more concerned with Mrs. Peterson.”

“Right,” Neon murmured. She lowered her hand from Ciel’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so,” Ciel said, though she had little enough hope regarding the matter. Nevertheless, she had procrastinated long enough. She raised her hand and rapped smartly upon the door.

Once again, the front door was opened by Florentin, who looked rather less happy to see her than he had done the last time he had opened the door for her.

“You took your time, didn’t you?” he said.

“Don’t start, Florentin,” Neon said, quietly but firmly at the same time. “Ciel is not in the mood.”

“Neon?” Florentin asked. “What are you—?”

“Nice to see you too,” Neon said, smiling up at him. “Now can we come in or what?”

“Uh, yes, of course, come in,” Florentin stammered, taking a few steps back so that Ciel could step over the threshold and into the family home. Neon followed, closing the door behind her. The latch clicked shut.

“Is that Ciel?” Mother called from the living room.

“And Neon too,” Florentin called back, before Ciel could announce herself.

Ciel stepped around her brother and took the door on the left into the living room. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places, although fortunately only at the top; it was not yet truly noticeable, nor truly desperate; what was a little worse was the patch on the ceiling where water had leaked down from the bathroom above and caused the paint to bubble and brown; they had fixed the leak, but not in time to prevent that damage, and they lived in constant fear that it would recur again.

The floral pattern cover on the settee was getting a little faded by now, and there were stains on the carpet from age and the occasional spill. They had become so commonplace that nobody really noticed them now, and Ciel suspected that she only noticed them because she had been away for so long in places that were much fresher and better maintained.

And better endowed besides.

None of her family seemed to take any notice. Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier were playing Monopoly, kneeling on the floor around the board as they rolled the dice across it. The television was off, but Tyson was reading that week’s TV guide, a pen in one hand as he circled the programs he was interested in. Mother was sat upon the sofa, and Alain sat on her lap, his eyes hooded as though he might drop off to sleep at any moment.

As Ciel stepped through the door, and Neon followed her, his blue eyes opened a little wider. “Ciel! And Neon!”

Neon waved with one hand. “Hey, Alain. Hey, Mrs. S.”

“You came back,” Alain went on. “I thought you might have been called away on a mission or something.”

“I am sorry,” Ciel said, to Alain, but also to her mother, and to the whole room, really. “For not returning sooner.”

“What kept you?” Mother asked. “You missed dinner.”

“I thought I might have,” Ciel replied.

“So how’s Mrs. Peterson doing?”

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. “Mrs. Peterson … is dead,” she said.

Maurice dropped the dice. It hit the board with a thump that, for all it was not loud, sounded as loud as the ringing of a bell in the silence that otherwise descended on the room.

“'Dead'?” Mother repeated. “I … no, it can’t be. She wasn’t that sick; the doctor said that she’d get better as long as she was taken care of. Did we not do enough? Should we have done more?”

“There was nothing that you could have done, Mrs. Soleil,” Neon said earnestly. “It … it maybe isn’t the kind of thing a five-year-old should be hearing.”

“Why not?” Alain asked. “What happened? Is that why you were so late?” His breathing started to quicken. “I liked Mrs. Peterson,” he said. “She always used to give me sweets and tell me that it … that it did her good to see me in church, because it reminded her that … that—”

“That our Lady helped lame men to walk and blind men to see,” Neon said, darting quickly across the living room floor, stepping over Maurice and Aurelien and kneeling down in front of Alain, where he sat on Mother’s lap.

“Just you remember that,” she said. “And don’t worry about the rest. Don’t upset yourself.”

She reached out and took Alain in her hands, lifting him up — Mother did not protest — and holding him as she would a babe, one hand supporting him and the other resting upon his head.

“Now, come on; it must be past your bedtime by now!” She stepped over Maurice and Aurelien again as she headed back towards the door. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you a cool story about Vivid, the hero cat, and her latest amazing adventure.” She winked at Ciel as she passed by.

Ciel smiled as Neon carried Alain out of the room. Ciel didn’t watch as Neon bore the youngest Soleil up the stairs, but she did hear Neon’s footsteps, and she waited until those footsteps no longer sounded on the staircase but on the landing up above.

She stepped into the living room. She heard Florentin close the door.

She clasped her hands together. Ciel took a deep breath. “Mrs. Peterson was murdered,” she said softly.

Mother gasped, one hand flying to her heart. “Lady’s grace! Why? Why would anyone want to harm dear old Mrs. Peterson?”

“For her possessions,” Ciel explained, her voice soft and a little slow. “For the things that were precious to her and that she loved to show and talk about.”

“Her pistol,” Tyson murmured.

“And her watches,” Ciel added. “Someone came into her home, they took them … and they … and they killed her.”

“Bastard!” Florentin snarled.

“Florentin!” Mother cried. “Language!”

“'Language'?” Florentin repeated. “'Language,' after…” His hands clenched into fists. “I wish I’d been there.”

Ciel looked at him. “And what would you have done?” she asked softly.

“I’d have torn him to pieces,” Florentin growled.

That, more than anything else, gave Ciel pause. She did not like the anger in her brother’s voice, she did not like the look in his eyes, and she liked it all the less for the way that it reminded her of herself, of what she had done and what she had almost done.

And yet, at the same time, she was less worried about her own actions — she would pray forgiveness for them when next she felt strong enough in her faith to pray — than about her younger brother. He had gotten into a fight, Mother said, and Neon had confirmed the fact. He had gotten into a fight, and now he talked of tearing people to pieces. What had happened to him while she had been away? What kind of crowd had he fallen in with?

“Don’t look at me like that,” Florentin snapped.

“I was not—”

“Yes,” Florentin said. “You were. You’ve been gone for eight months in Vale. You were barely home before that. You don’t get to come back here and judge me.”

“Florentin—” Ciel began, but it was too late; Florentin had already turned away, flinging open the door and striding through it, only to slam it behind him.

“Florentin!” Ciel’s voice was half a cry and half an admonition as she started after him.

“Wait,” Mother said.

Ciel halted. “If … if he upsets Alain—”

“He won’t,” Mother said. “It isn’t Alain that he’s upset with.”

That, at least, was quite clearly true. “Very well, Mother.”

“Shall I go and check on him?” Tyson offered.

“Yes, please, Tyson, if you wouldn’t mind,” Mother said.

Tyson got up from his seat and left; he closed the door more quietly after him than Florentin had done.

“You … found her?” Mother asked.

“Neon and I,” Ciel replied. “She joined me on the way over. I dropped the flask when I saw … I’m sorry, I left it there, I should—”

“The flask, never mind about the flask,” Mother said quickly. “Do they know who is responsible for this terrible thing?”

“A young man,” Ciel said. “He died before the police could apprehend him. But Mrs. Peterson’s valuables were recovered.” Ciel and Neon had dropped them off with Father Gregory, whose clerical privilege would protect him from revealing how he had come by them to the authorities when he handed them in.

“Then the Lady is just,” Mother murmured, bowing her head slightly. “Are you alright, Ciel?”

I fear not. “I am … better,” Ciel said quietly. “It was shocking to see, but … I am better.”

"I am glad to hear it," Mother said. She paused a moment. "Poor Mrs. Peterson; we must pray for her when next in church."

"Father Gregory has already said he will do so," Ciel said. "I … we made him aware."

"Good girl," Mother said softly. "I put some soup aside for you, if you want to reheat it."

"Is there some for Neon as well?" Ciel asked.

Mother smiled. "I have some portions I was going to freeze; she can have one of those."

Ciel nodded. "Thank you, Mother."

"She is always welcome here," Mother said. She sighed. "I forgot to ask how her mother was."

"Working hard, I think," Ciel replied. "In preparation for the opening of the Marigold hotel."

"Yes, she's very fortunate, isn't she?"

"Very much so," Ciel said. "I will go and tell her about the soup. What soup is it?"

"Chicken noodle."

"She will like that," Ciel said. She rather liked it as well.

She left the living room, and only once she was back in the hall did she notice that she was still wearing her cloak. In everything that had gone on, she had not taken it off yet. She did so now and hung it on the coatstand by the door, then made her way softly up the stairs.

With only four bedrooms, the sleeping arrangements in the Soleil house were a little crowded. Mother and Father had their own room, of course, the largest bedroom with the en suite bathroom; and since Alain was the youngest by some years and thus had to go to bed before anyone else, he too had his own room. Florentin and Tyson shared one of the remaining rooms between them, and Maurice, Aurelien, and Gauthier shared the other. Ciel had slept — and would be sleeping again, for so long as she was here — in a cot in the attic; she needed space to study and work, and it was easier to get a desk in there than to try and squeeze it into one of the bedrooms.

Alain's room was the first on the right coming up the stairs. As she stepped onto the upstairs landing, Ciel could hear Neon's voice issuing out of the open doorway.

"The leviathan stomped towards the city, making the waves surge and the ground shake with its tread. 'Grrrrr! Aaaargh!' But Vivid was not deterred!"

"She wasn't scared then?" Alain asked.

"Oh, she was scared," Neon said. "You can only ever be brave when you're scared, but she didn't let her fear control her, she didn't give up just because she was afraid. The hero cat thought about all her little brothers waiting for her back home; so long as they were counting on her, she could never give up! With both hands, she drew her magic sword and let the power of love flow through her as she thought about all her friends and all the good times they'd shared and everything that she was fighting to protect, and with a mighty swing of her mighty blade, she cleaved that leviathan clean in two! And so the day was saved, once again."

"Bravo," Ciel murmured, coming to stand in the doorway. "Bravo."

Neon smiled and rose where she had been kneeling by Alain's bedside to bow theatrically. "I do my best," she said, her tail flicking back and forth behind her head.

Alain was sitting in bed, already changed into his pyjamas, his legs concealed beneath the blue duvet with golden stars upon it. The room was dark, with only a reddish-pink nightlight providing any illumination.

Neon backed away towards the window as Ciel approached Alain's bedside. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes, Ciel."

"And said your prayers?"

"Yes, Ciel."

Ciel knelt down by his bedside. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alright," Alain said softly.

"I'm glad," Ciel said, a smile appearing on her face. "I'm so very glad." She reached out and took his small hand in her own and squeezed it.

"What was it like, in Vale?" Alain asked.

"Vale," Ciel said. "Vale was … more pleasant than I expected. Warm, and clean, and the people kind."

"I'd love to see it myself," Alain said.

"You will," Ciel told him. "You will. You will see … anything that you wish to see."

Alain smiled. "Will you tell me all about what happened to you there? Will you tell me everything?"

"I will," Ciel promised. "But not tonight. Tomorrow. Tonight, it is time to sleep."

Alain sighed. "Alright."

Ciel leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead. "Bon nuit, mon petit frere."

Alain smiled, as she laid down. "Bon nuit, ma soeur."

Ciel pulled the duvet up over him as he rolled to face the wall, turning his back on her.

She left the nightlight on as she walked towards the door — Neon had already left — and took one last look at him, illuminated by the red glow of the light, before she gently closed the door.

To Neon, she said, "Mother said there is some leftover soup, if you want it; chicken noodle."

Neon nodded and kept her own voice quiet as she said, "That'd be great."

"I'll heat it up for you," Ciel said. "But first, I need to speak with Florentin."

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," Neon said.

Ciel didn't watch her head for the stairs, or head down them; she turned towards the next room on the right, next to Alain's: Florentin's room, which he shared with Tyson.

She found them both in there, although it was even darker in there than it was in Alain's room, since there was not even a nightlight in here, and the only light that got in was the light of the city itself, since the curtains were drawn back.

As Ciel stood in the doorway, just about able to make out the shapes of the two oldest boys, she felt compelled to ask, "Is there a reason you're both in here in the dark?"

"It saves dust," Florentin said. "Have you forgotten what it's like to not have an academy paying your power bill?"

"I understand the need for economy," Ciel said, ignoring the jibe. "But this borders upon absurd."

"Give it a moment," Tyson said. "Your eyes will get used to the city lights."

Ciel found that her eyes were getting used to it. She could make out her brothers more clearly now: Tyson was sat on his bed, while Florentin was stood by the window, his back to Ciel and the doorway, silhouetted against the lights coming in from without.

"I, uh, I'll leave you to it," Tyson said, getting up off the bed. Ciel got out of the way for him as he followed Neon downstairs — although presumably back to the living room, not the kitchen.

Ciel took another step into the bedroom. Florentin did not turn around to look at her.

"Alain is trying to sleep in the next room," Ciel reminded him, "so please do not shout."

Florentin gave no reply but a harrumph which Ciel could not help but find rather disdainful.

She winced. "It … it has been suggested to me," she murmured. "That I may not have been the best big sister to you all."

Florentin looked at her over his shoulder. "I meant what I said," he declared, although he kept his voice soft and quiet as he did so for Alain's sake. "I love you, Ciel, but you don't get to come back and judge me. Not when you're never here."

"Not even for the things that deserve judgement?" Ciel asked. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin scoffed. "The fight. Mother did tell you, then?"

"It's why she didn't want you to go to Mrs. Peterson's," Ciel said. "As you guessed, I think."

Florentin nodded. He scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "Mother's overreacting."

"To what?" Ciel asked gently. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin let out a soft chuckle as he finally turned to face her. "I was … I was walking home from the shop, and I … I saw this girl at the bus stop, and this boy … he was yelling at her, berating her; she was trying to defend herself, she sounded so upset—"

"Was he hurting her?" Ciel asked.

"No, at least not like that," Florentin said. "But he wouldn't let her get on the bus when it pulled up at the stop, said that they weren't finished. I went up to them, I told him to leave her alone … and he beat me up. And she laughed."

Ciel stared at him for a moment. "I … I see," she murmured. "That was … not what I expected." She paused for a moment. "Neon knows that, doesn't she?"

"Neon … rescued me," Florentin admitted. "She twisted the guy's arm so much, I thought something would snap, told the girl she could do better, chased them off, and helped me home."

Something else to thank her for, if she was accepting more thanks at the moment.

"That was … brave of you," Ciel said quietly. "Chivalrous, even, but at the same time, spectacularly ill-advised. What if he had had a knife?"

"Someone had to do something," Florentin insisted.

"Apparently not, judging by the girl's reaction," Ciel replied.

"How was I to know that?" Florentin demanded.

"That … that I will grant you."

Florentin snorted. "Did you think that I'd joined a gang or something?"

"You were talking about ripping a man apart, what should I have thought?" asked Ciel. "Although why you would have expected a different result in that instance, I don't know."

Florentin rolled his eyes.

"Starting tomorrow, I will do what I probably should have done sooner and teach you how to fight," Ciel declared. "I would rather you did not start fights, but you should at least know how to finish one."

Florentin nodded, but said, "Just because I'm angry, it doesn't make me a bad person. I have things to be angry about."

"Such as?"

Florentin hesitated. "How was Beacon?" he asked. "How was Vale? Did you have a nice time?"

Ciel took a moment to answer. "There were times that were rather pleasant. There were times when I almost died."

Florentin winced. "Were you in that battle? The one that was all over the news, when Vale almost fell?"

"Vale did not almost fall," Ciel informed him. "General Ironwood's forces had the situation too well in hand for that."

"But there was a battle inside Vale, wasn't there?" Florentin pressed.

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "There was."

Florentin shook his head. "I can't imagine that happening here. I mean, this place is terrible, but I still can't imagine it."

I doubt the people of Vale could imagine it either, until it happened, Ciel thought.

"Were you there?" Florentin asked. "Were you involved?"

"Yes," Ciel answered.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you," Ciel murmured.

"But you like it, don't you?"

"It is … my vocation," Ciel replied, remembering her conversation with Penny on the roof of the animal shelter.

"Good for you," Florentin said. "You got to go to combat school, and then to Atlas, because you're Mom's favourite and because Dad likes to think of you doing the things he never got the opportunity to do. Meanwhile, I work shifts at the supermarket after school and weekends to bring in money; do you think they'll let me go to university?"

"Do you wish to?"

"I don't know yet," Florentin admitted. "But I'd like to have the chance, and I'd like for you to … you don't know what it's like here, you're not around enough."

"No," Ciel admitted. "I am not. I am … sorry, for placing this burden on you. I am sorry. I should—"

"No," Florentin said, "you shouldn't. It's not your fault that we're … that we don't have enough chances to go around. The problem isn't that you got to get out; the problem is that we can't. But I'm allowed to be a little upset about that, don't you think?"

A sigh escaped from Ciel's lips. "Yes," she conceded. "Yes, I suppose you are."

Florentin stepped closer to her, and a touch of humour entered his voice as he said, "Just don't forget about us when you're an Atlas bigshot, okay?"

Ciel snorted. "Indeed, I will not. You have my word."

"‘You have my word,’" Florentin repeated. "You're so weird, sis. Now, go on, get down to the kitchen before Neon starves."

Ciel descended the stairs and made her way into the kitchen, where at least the lights were on. On the table by the door were various clear plastic tubs filled with soup, most destined for the freezer but two, at least, for Ciel and Neon.

Neon had the lid of one of them and was holding it up.

"Why is this called a soup?" she asked. "It's got chicken, peppers, carrot, sweetcorn—"

"And sweet potato," Ciel said.

"Right," Neon said. "So shouldn't it be called a stew?"

"I believe a stew would be thicker in consistency," Ciel replied as she walked around Neon to the edge of the worksurface, opposite the microwave, where there were some ciabatta loaves wrapped in plastic sitting on top of the rolls and the crumpets. "Do you want one of these?" Ciel asked, holding up a ciabatta.

"Yeah, thanks," Neon said, putting the plastic tub of soup down.

Ciel retrieved the cutting board from its resting place beside the microwave, on the other side of the kitchen, set it down, and pulled the right sized knife from its resting place on the wall.

"You could have told me why Florentin got into a fight," she said, slightly reproachfully, as she started to slice the two ciabattas in half.

"It wasn't my story to tell," Neon replied. "But you see why I told you not to be too hard on him. He was trying to do the right thing." She leaned against the wall. "Personally, I think it's kind of romantic."

Ciel finished slicing the two loaves. "I thought you said he was doing the right thing."

"Can't it be both?"

Ciel put the knife down beside the sink and bent down to open up the fridge. As she pulled out a tub of margarine, she said, "If Florentin sought to rescue that girl in hopes that she would date him instead, that is hardly doing the right thing."

"That's not what I meant by romantic, and you know it," Neon replied. "You probably know more meanings for the word than I do."

Ciel stood up, holding the margarine in one hand. "Florentin tells me that you rescued him."

"What are family friends for?" Neon asked.

"I'm going to start teaching him how to defend himself," Ciel said as she pulled out a drawer and grabbed a butter knife.

"That's probably a good idea," Neon said. She paused for a moment, letting Ciel get on with buttering the bread. "It isn't your fault, you know."

Ciel's buttering slowed a little. "What isn't?"

"Any of this?" Neon suggested. "But the fact that Florentin is…"

"Unhappy?" Ciel suggested.

"Yeah, let's go with that," Neon said. "It's not your fault for going to Atlas or combat school."

"So I have been told," Ciel murmured, as she plated up the sliced ciabatta.

"And it's true," Neon insisted. "You're whip smart, committed, brave. You'd be wasted at some ordinary job. You belong among the clouds, more than most."

Ciel smiled a little, and not without a little sadness. "Penny said much the same thing."

"She's not completely blind to your quality, then," Neon remarked.

Ciel didn't reply to that. She opened up the microwave, then walked towards the table to retrieve a couple of the tubs of soup.

Neon grabbed her wrists as she reached out for them. "Hey," she said. "It's going to be okay. Things will work out, you'll see."

Ciel wished she could believe that, but was not at all sure that she could. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because all your little brothers are counting on you," Neon reminded her, gently touching her fist against Ciel's cheek. "Which means you can never give up. So chin up, hero."

Ciel smiled. "I'm not sure that thoughts of love and friendship are going to get us through this."

"Maybe not," Neon admitted. "But there are worse places to start, right?"

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