#i mainly did this to check if my idea of making cloud kingdom have connections to ancient greece would be valid

[riptidesblog]

Analyzing Cloud Kingdom names

I decided to analyze the names of named characters from Cloud Kindgom: their meanings and origins

Euphrasia:

Of Greek origin, means "good cheer"

Suetonius:

Of Roman origin, the name of the author of 12 Caesars which is a set of biographies from Julius Caesar to Domitian

Marcus:

Of Latin origin, means "in service of Mars" which is the Roman counterpart to Ares, both are gods of war. Also has biblical connections where it means polite

Fenwick:

This one is a bit hard but it seems to be of Scottish origin? It means "village on the march" or "from Fenland"

Nobu:

Japanese origin, means prolong or stretch

Quanish:

The only thing I could find is the name Қуаныш(Quanish) which is a Kazakh word for joy. However, I have my doubts as the pronunciation of the name Quanish and the word қуаныш are different

So while pre-dr names seem to be of various origins, DR Cloud Kingdom characters have names of Greek and Roman origins

[thestarsofthenight]

Chapter 3: The Phantom Protector of Great Britain

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

Pairings: mainly Ciel Phantomhive/Elizabeth Midford

Summary: “There is nothing more ridiculous than living in a country in which an orange-skinned man won an election,” Francis had said, ending the Midfords four-year-long stay in the USA. Three days later, Elizabeth lives in gloomy London, wishing to be back in sunny LA, when a murder case suddenly turns her life upside down, entangling her with Ciel Phantomhive, his duty to the crown, and his school-intern detective agency…

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“Wherever this shadowed path might lead, we were both irrevocably committed to follow it to the end.”  ― Susan Kay, Phantom

  London, England, United Kingdom – November 2016

  She did not know when she had started to run.

A second ago, Elizabeth had witnessed a murder, and now, her feet were carrying her as far away from the crime scene as possible. And while she ran, records of what she had seen found their ways back to her mind.

The metallic smell of blood.

The murderer, stabbing and stabbing their victim even though they were long dead.

The victim’s muffled, dying screams.

There is no way that I will ever forget them, Elizabeth thought while running and running and cursing her bag with the chocolates and her bag with the bagels for not allowing her to run faster.

Eventually, despite the adrenaline pushing her body to go farther, her lungs started to burn so badly that she could only stop. Elizabeth collapsed against the wall of a building, trying to catch her breath. She had no clue where she was. She had no clue if the murderer had seen her or not. What if she had started to run without checking that first? What if they had noticed her running away and went after her?

The thought turned her blood to ice.

No, a voice in her head suddenly said – the voice belonging to the part of her head which was still sane despite everything. Someone was killed. There is a killer on the loose. You have to go to the police. You need to report this. Staying here will only decrease your chance of surviving if the murderer really followed you. You will be safe with the police.

Elizabeth pulled herself away from the wall, her legs feeling wobbly. Because her hands were shaking and she was still holding the bag with the bagels, taking out her phone proved quite difficult. If leaving the bagels wouldn’t make it easier for the killer to track her, she would have thrown the bag away ages ago. When Elizabeth had finally managed to get her mobile, she tried to dial the police’s number, but stopped herself right before clicking on “call.” What if her voice was too shaky? What if the person on the other side of the line couldn’t understand her? Was making a phone call in an unknown place while possibly being followed by a killer the best idea?

No, not here, definitely not here, her rational part said and forced her run farther to a more crowded place and into some shop.

After Elizabeth had walked through the entire shop a few times while calming herself down, she looked up the location of the closest police station.

It is only a few minutes away. Thank God, it is only a few minutes away.

And these few minutes gave her new strength to make her feet move.

  ***

  The police station was awfully ugly. “Police” was written in capital letters over the entrance of the grey building, and a lonely London flag was fluttering miserably in the wind.

Elizabeth took a deep breath before entering the police station.

“Good evening, how can I help ya?” the policeman in charge said, looking up from what looked like a comic, and frowned. “Isn’t it a bit late for you to walk around on a school day?”

Elizabeth glimpsed at a clock and saw that it was a little after ten o’clock. When had it got so late? She had no idea.

“I,” she began, her voice hoarse and her throat dry. “I...”

“Stop stuttering, kid, and tell me what the matter is. Lost your parents? Someone stole your lolly?”

“There was a murder somewhere around here,” Elizabeth managed to say, falling into a nearby chair.

The policeman’s eyes widened. “Woah, woah, girl! You’ve seen a murder?”

Elizabeth nodded faintly. Her mind was drifting away to the crime scene, but she blinked away the image of the street painted red. Focus. “Yes. In... in Whitechapel, around Brick Lane.”

The policeman raised an eyebrow and put his hands under the counter. It was a strange movement. It had been meant to be subtle, but Elizabeth’s clouded brain still managed to catch it. She tried to analyse what he was doing, but, somehow, she did not manage to grab a clear thought.

“And you are not lying to me? Kids like you come to me all the time to prank me. Not cool. Absolutely not cool. They always prank me because they believe that Detective Inspector Marty Card is an easy victim. Can you imagine that? Can you believe that? Kids nowadays are all idiots. I am not the idiot here. Definitely not.” The policeman, Marty Card, took out a piece of paper before frowning at her. “You are not kidding me, right? Joking about murder is bad. Joking about such a murder is even worse. False information could cost me my job. Perhaps even my head. I cling to my head. I think it’s a nice head, not particularly pretty, but still nice. Has a nice shape, don’t you think?”

With her head feeling heavy, Elizabeth barely managed to nod at Marty’s words. In the alley, this one voice in her head had told her that she would feel safe with the police. But, for some reason, she did not feel secure at all. Elizabeth grabbed the rim of her skirt. Her heart was racing, her body tensed. What if the murderer knew that Marty was in charge today? If children knew when he worked, did grown-ups too? Did this one grown-up know? What if the killer had followed her and decided to get rid off her right here and now in this police station because they knew that only Marty was here? What if they murdered them both? She dug her fingers deeper into the fabric of her skirt.

“Hello? Are you listening to me, kid?” Marty’s voice snapped her back to reality.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “Hm?”

“I asked: Was that a nod for the kidding part or the head part?”

When Elizabeth didn’t reply and simply kept staring at him, he only sighed. “Not very talkative, are you? For now, I am believing you because I don’t think you are that much of an actress to fool me, Mighty Marty. So... for the protocol, what is your name?”

  ***

  It was little after 10 pm when Ciel’s late night ice-cream eating was disturbed.

Regularly, Ciel would eat ice-cream even if it was already late. He did not even care about the fact that it was late autumn. After all, it might be cold outside, but it was quite warm inside his townhouse. Thus it was fairly reasonable to eat ice-cream even on an icy November day. Ciel especially liked it to sit next to a window on the ground floor while eating so that he could watch the passersby shuddering in the coldness while being warm and comfortable himself.

But today, he was sitting in his office, and thus, could see the tiny red lamp going on on his desk. The alarm used to make a sound too but Sebastian had once changed the ring tone from the Toccata by Johann Sebastian Bach to the cat song from The Big Bang Theory when his master hadn’t been there. Annoyed, Ciel had removed this function upon finding out about this change.

Ciel had made the alarm himself: It was connected to Scotland Yard, and every time someone pressed a certain button in one of their police stations, the small lamp lit up in his office. Next to this button, Ciel had let little, foldout, and extractable keyboards to be installed so that whoever had pressed the button could send him a short message, telling him what was going on. Then, the message would appear on a small display on the alarm cube. Another display showed the number of the police station from where the message had been sent.

He leaned forward and read the message: “S7616 – around Brick Lane, Muscle. Manor: circle. DI Right Brother.”

Ciel himself had invented the code and was quite proud of it. It had not been the easiest task to teach it to the police, though. The message, decrypted, meant:

Serial murder case: New Whitechapel Murders  – around Brick Lane, now. Witness: a female. DI Marty Card.

Ciel frowned. A witness? That was strange. There had never been a witness to this case. But Ciel could not think longer about it as the message had said that the murder was happening right now. Apparently, the witness has immediately run to the next police station. Interesting. He stood up and called Sebastian.

  ***

  Less than two minutes later, Ciel and Sebastian arrived at the scene of the crime, but the criminal was already gone. It looked like the other crime scenes which Ciel had seen in the photographs the Queen had included in her letter: The horrifyingly mangled victim was lying in a pool of blood. Her eyes were staring up at the dark sky as if she was trying to pledge Heaven for mercy. Ciel couldn’t help but to bitterly chuckle at this sight. Mercy. What a joke.

“Sebastian – search the crime scene for things which seem important or odd,” Ciel ordered.

Normally, a crime scene is secured first, then thoroughly documented by taking photographs and drawing sketches before evidence is collected. But if you have a demon butler and are the Watchdog, things work a little bit differently.

“Yes, Mylord,” Sebastian replied, his eyes glowing bright red, and began to work.

  “What now, Young Master?” the butler asked a few minutes later, closing the last plastic bag.

“That someone witnessed the murder is bad enough,” Ciel meant, walking back and forth. “We cannot allow anyone else to see the crime scene again.”

“And what do you suggest, Mylord?”

“You need to restore the street’s appearance before the murder took place. Like that, this case will stay the secret it has been since the first murder.” Ciel looked up at Sebastian. “Sebastian – I order you to restore the street’s appearance, and when you’re done to bring me to Marty Card’s police station. There is someone we need to speak.”

  ***

  “Come to think of it, Lizzy, you were not hallucinating, were you?”

After Elizabeth had calmed herself by slowly and deeply breathing in and out and after Marty had given her cup by cup of tea, she had been somehow able to answer Marty’s questions – told him her name and contact data and all she knew about the crime – even if she could only vaguely remember what had happened.

At which time did you see the murder? I am not sure. I think sometime after nine o’clock.

What did the murderer look like? I can’t remember.

Did he have a weapon? No. Wait... yes. A knife. The killer had a knife.

Eventually, Marty had decided that saying “Miss Midford” all the time was too troublesome and started to call her “Lizzy” instead without her permission.

“I am only asking because I’ve noticed that your backpack is full of chocolate and that you have a plastic bag full of Rainbow Bagels. Too much sugar can do strange things to some people, you know? Some become hyperactive, some start hallucinating. Could also be that I am mixing this up with some other white substance, though.” Marty shrugged. “Nevertheless, can I have some? I am starving. The others went home early, leaving me with all the work. Can you believe that? They work for the police, justice and righteousness and all, and then they leave their coworker to do everything! Didn’t have time to grab something to eat. Could be that I started doodling food on the documents I had to fill out.”

Elizabeth threw him a Rainbow Bagel. It nearly fell to the ground because she didn’t have the strength anymore to throw it properly. His hunger, apparently, gave Marty the power to dive headlong over the counter and catch the bagel a centimetre over the ground with the grace and elegance of a drunk cat.

“Caught it!” he happily exclaimed before returning to his original position behind the counter. “Never thought that I am so sporty, right?” Marty ate the bagel like a savage. “Oh, Heavenly Rainbow Bagel! Without you, I would have died of hunger. You coming here was truly a gift of Heaven, Lizzy! When we forget the murder part, though.”

“When do you think my parents will come?” Elizabeth asked him. She felt tired, and her brain kept repeating the screams of the victim again and again. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be with her parents and brother. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and find out that all of this had been a mad, mad dream. What were the odds to witness a murder on your first day of school?

“I didn’t notify them,” Marty said, licking the bagel crumbs from his fingers.

Elizabeth blinked at him, the fog over her mind suddenly lifted. “What?”

“That means ‘Excuse me,’” he corrected her. “Also, if I had called them, they would have come to see and get their baby duck – Babies of a duck are called ‘ducklings,’ right? Like in The Ugly Duckling; to see and get their duckling then. However, I cannot allow that. Someone high-up will want to talk to you. And if I mean ‘high-up’ I mean ‘scarily high-up.’ He can do things no other citizens of Britain can. Cannot afford to enrage this guy. Like I’ve said, I cling to my head. And I know what you’re thinking ‘It’s the 21st century, and we are in a civilised country, nobody gets executed and incapacitated here!’ But I have to tell you otherwise: He has the power to wander outside of law, he does not care if we are still in the 21st century and that I have a nice head I cling to.”

“Who is this ‘scarily high-up’ person?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

“‘The Phantom Protector of Great Britain’!” Marty theatrically said, spreading his arms. “His work and existence are one of the best-kept secrets in the entire United Kingdom. And I am one of the secret keepers. It’s such an honour!”

“Which you have just told me.”

“Excuse me?” he blinked at her.

“‘His work and existence is one of the best kept secrets in the entire United Kingdom.’ And you have just told me about him.”

Marty immediately turned very, very pale. “Oh God, what have I done? I will be killed for sure. Beheaded like this dumb queen with her pimped out dress and white, stinky wig –”

“Marie Antoinette.”

“– Mary Anton!” he continued in a scream.

Then, to Marty’s horror, the door to the police station opened. He shrieked and jumped out of his chair. Elizabeth’s body temperature increased – What if it’s the killer? she thought between two raced heartbeats –, and she craned her head to see who had entered the station. And as soon as she saw who had come, her body temperature promptly dropped – her initial, unreasonable fear – Marty had told her that someone was coming after all – being replaced by cold disbelief.

Only a few metres away from her stood a person she knew. A person who had just turned around and whose eyes widened at the sight of her just like her own did.

Cute Shortie.

  ***

  Ten minutes later, Elizabeth Midford was sitting in the back seat of a Bentley. A 1954er R-type continental. One of the only 208 which had ever been created, instinctively crossed her mind. Growing up with an older brother and a father with a deep love for old and rare things, especially cars, had left marks on her. Furthermore, ever since she had been a child, facts and numbers had a comforting effect on her. And now, it helped her to keep her mind from drifting away again.

King Henry VIII never slept without an axe beside him.

Two-thirds of the world’s population has never seen snow.

The first three digits of pi are 3.14. Backwards, these numbers spell “pie.”

Four is considered to be an unlucky number in some Asian countries as their names for “four” sound similar to their words for “death.”

In Thailand, “five” is pronounced as “ha.” 555 would be “ha ha ha.”

The national anthem of Greece consists of 158 stanzas, but, normally, only the first two are sung.

The tradition to buy a white dress which is specially made and worn for and on your wedding started with Queen Victoria in 1840. Before that, women wore dresses to their weddings which they could wear afterwards too. Also, these dresses could be of any colour.

People suffering from Capgras delusion believe that someone close to them, for example a good friend or family members, was replaced by a doppelganger.

One year after the tragedy of the Titanic, the International Ice Patrol came into existence. Its purpose is to warn ships of icebergs.

Even though Buddhism originates from India, only around one percent of Indians are Buddhists. Most of them are Hindus.

Ciel Phantomhive is the “Phantom Protector of Great Britain.”

  Half an hour later, the Bentley stopped, and Ciel’s butler, a tall man with black hair and peculiar eyes, opened the door for Elizabeth. She left her bags inside the car, and the butler helped her to get out. The instance she saw where they were, her eyes widened.

Why did they bring me to school?

Quietly, Elizabeth followed Ciel and his butler to Blue House, and the butler opened a door for them which said  “McMillan & Phantomhive Detective Agency – Chocolate for Investigating.” Ciel entered the room and sat down behind a large desk, and as soon as Elizabeth had stepped through the door too, the butler closed it behind her, leaving the two of them alone.

As weak as a kitten, Elizabeth fell onto a sofa. The entire day had been awfully draining. First, she had been late to school. Then, she had lost her diary and became witness to murder. Now, she was sitting inside a Detective Agency at her school with the ominous “Phantom Protector of Great Britain��� opposite from her – who had turned out to be the boy she had run into this very morning.

“I thought that it would be better if we could talk in a calm environment,” Ciel started, turning on a table lamp which was barely able to illuminate the room. “The police station is rather... loud with Card in charge.” He leaned back. “Let me introduce me first: My name is Ciel Phantomhive, the Earl of Phantomhive – but I guess that you have already known that.”

Blood rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she was thankful for the dim light. “I am Elizabeth Midford.”

She could faintly see Ciel raising one of his eyebrows. “Midford? Like in Marquess Alexis Leon Midford?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. I am his daughter.”

“I see.”

Ciel wanted to continue, but a question suddenly blurted out of Elizabeth and cut him off: “How come you are ‘The Phantom Protector of Great Britain’?”

He blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned bright red. “That’s what Marty Card called you,” she mumbled.

“Card?” She could hear Ciel chuckle. “Nobody calls me that.”

Elizabeth looked up, and Ciel continued: “But that is, more or less, a description of what I am and what I do.” Ciel’s next words froze the blood in her veins.

“I am the Watchdog of the Queen – the secret executive organ, the private detective, and private assassin of Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth the Second.

“I am the detective in charge of this murder case; and, unfortunately, you, Lady Midford, have to work with me now.”