Piano Days and Other Malec One-Shots

For a Servant and a Master

October 17th, 1911.

Perhaps the only thing in London that rivaled the size and elegance of Lightwood mansion was Buckingham Palace. The slightly-off white front stood out against the neatly-kept green grass. Magnus pulled his coat tighter around him. To say he wasn't nervous would be a lie. The Lightwoods were some of London's richest and he was probably one of twenty prospective valets and there was nothing special about his resume.

The gate keeper had already let him inside and he continued his walk around to the side of the house. A woman dressed in black sat on a picnic table, taking a drag from a cigarette. She watched him with curiosity in her posture and laughter in her eyes. They both doubted him.

He raised his hand to knock, never breaking eye contact with the woman.

The door opened instantly at his touch, snapping his head back to attention.

"Mm," a rather rotund man said. He was examining Magnus. "You must be Magnus Bane."

"Yes, sir," Magnus said, sticking his hand out.

"I do not shake hands," he said, turning and walking inside the house. "Follow."

Magnus stepped inside. Somehow it was colder inside than outside.

"Hang your coat and hat; if this goes well, you will be here for awhile, Mr. Bane," the man said, gesturing to a coat rack, lined with coats identical to the one Magnus was slipping off.

"This is yet another copy of your resume, I'm assuming?" he asked, staring at the yellow envelope peeking out of Magnus' coat. It stood stark out against the black wool of the coats. Magnus pulled it out handing it over.

"I'm Mr. Davies," the man said. "Head Butler of the Lightwood Estate. Follow me."

Noise from the kitchen carried into the hallway, growing louder with every step they took. Someone was shouting within the kitchen and Magnus could hear sobs from the same room.

Mr. Davies wasn't fazed though. He kept walking down the hall, though when he walked it seemed more like floating.

"How old are you?"

"19, sir."

"Far too young to be a valet."

"I would like the chance to try," Magnus said. Mr. Davies' head snapped to the side, so Magnus got a view of half his pudgy face.

"Of course you would."

They came to an intersection with another hallway. A stairway was straight ahead.

"I run a very strict household, Mr. Bane. At the moment we are short-staffed, which is the only reason why I agreed to interview someone as young and inexperienced as you. Should we hire you on, you would also be responsible for footman's duties as well. Are you okay with that?"

"I am," Magnus said. Though he wasn't. Everything the butler was saying was true. He was young, inexperienced, and not the ideal valet. However, he was tired of being just a footman. He wanted to work his way up the ranks, to be more respected by society's elite, though he could never truly be one of them.

Mr. Davies didn't respond; he turned right and continued down the hallway.

As Mr. Davies passed a doorway, someone inside the room skidded to a stop, their hands shakily carrying two loaded trays. He was off balance now, teetering and trying to keep up with the trays that wanted to go flying. Magnus jumped in front of the boy, taking ahold of the other sides of the trays, steadying them.

"Easy now," Magnus said as the boy straightened up with him.

"Thank you," the boy stuttered, readjusting his grip on the trays. He raised his eyes and they flew to the butler who was watching the scene. "I apologize, sir--"