Hellsing had and always would have a single goal in mind: protect the people of Europe, especially England, from the likes of the dangerous supernatural powers that lay deep in the darkest corners of the land; it would do this by being the fierce guard dog of humanity that protected the world from itself. It was the wish of the British crown that an organization followed Abraham's legacy of saving London from the king of vampires. After the crown caught wind of the ordeal, queen Victoria admitted her family's knowledge of such creatures as the vampire to the old professor and knighted Abraham as well as granting the title to each Hellsing successor who took up the burden of heading an organization to protect man from unnatural beast. The organization would remain a secret- a sort of mafia whose sole enemy was the stuff of ordinary man's myths, and would be funded by the British government itself. Abraham agreed, under the condition that he would take it upon himself to reassign his vampire as a servant and the first supernatural weapon that would give him an edge in the ensuing battles. The queen, though hesitant, agreed. The organization became a haven for any supernatural creature that wished protection, so long as it was willing to destroy its own kind in return for sanctuary.
Arthur Hellsing slumped forward in his desk chair, his face held in his hands as an exhausted groan escaped his throat. His late father Abraham hadn't bothered to tell him how much paperwork was involved in protecting Europe. Aside from regular weekly reports to the king on the status of Dracula's new life as a servant, there was the matter of writing to the governments of foreign nations for the granting of protected passage through other lands, and military funding requests. In addition, Arthur was currently pushing to have a small special operations unit of the British army at his disposal for sting operations and uprooting the hiding places of dangerous creatures. But the crown was already dubious of the vampire servant's progress as a reformed creature and seemed to be quite keen on digging its heels in as firmly as possible on nearly everything. The whole situation made Arthur want to toss his law books on government funding across the room.
Taking in a deep breath, Arthur summoned the emotional energy for a single act of defiance by pushing the small mountain of papers to the opposite end of his desk. The papers simply sat in their new spot, mocking his feeble attempt at acting out. He noticed a discolored slip of paper near the bottom of the pile that he had forgotten about for some time. He couldn't even remember what was written on it as he stared it down, debating whether or not he should even come near the vile hill of paper. Finally, curiosity got the better of him.
The paper was stationery size and hand written- nothing like the official documents on pretentiously oversized leaves of paper and written upon with bold typewriters. It described a strange incident at an orphanage, deep in the heart of London, of a boy who showed exceptional physical strength. Arthur remembered it drifting to the bottom of the pile of more important documents, writing this particular letter off as some sort of fluke and nothing with which to concern himself. But it seemed odd to him now as he held it in his hand. A boy of about five years had somehow gotten in a scrap with nearly half a dozen older and bigger boys. The caretakers in the orphans' asylum claimed he knocked most of them out cold, giving others broken limbs and bruises and cuts, emerging from the ordeal completely unharmed. Arthur had a sort of urgency to investigate; his boredom was obviously getting the better of him. It would give him a chance to make the hour's drive into London to investigate the address scrawled at the bottom of the letter. Even a long car ride sounded better than reading and signing documents.
The young knight enjoyed his independence. He had spent most of his life under the vigilant eye of his father and the company of a younger brother, Richard. After their father died of old age and left his first-born son in charge of the organization, Arthur's younger brother moved out, wanting nothing to do with the mansion anymore, preferring a normal life to managing a vampire and slaying beasts. The mansion had a full staff of maids and butlers that knew Abraham and his sons intimately and often acted as Arthur's surrogate family, even after he turned 18. They liked to fuss over him, insisting on making his meals, cleaning up after him, making sure his standing among his nobleman peers was in top form and chauffeuring him everywhere. But Arthur enjoyed his drives alone. He felt free when it was just him behind the wheel, with nothing to keep him from doing what he wanted- not what everyone else wanted. His sleek dark car was but a few years old and still smelled of leather on the inside. The white tires had collected some dust from the dirt roads- a feature he felt gave his car personality. Nothing could have personality without beautiful flaws. He loved it dearly.
The road before him stretched endlessly on his way to London, giving him time to admire the countryside and clear blue sky. The waxen leaves of sturdy oaks and towering ashes shimmered in the breezy sunlight and the long, green grasses rippled. Someday, he often thought, he would have a son of his own and they would explore the vast land together and name every tree and every rock they came across, conquering the land as their own. His mind drifted further, remembering the days when he was still very young and his father was still able to take him on walks. There was a small forest surrounding the yard of their mansion, and the two would take long walks through it. Abraham would point out and recite the common and scientific names of the different plants and trees to Arthur, who took careful mental note of each one. Sometimes the pair would spot a fox, bird or squirrel, which was the highlight of the young boy's day. Sometimes, when he had the strength, Abraham would take his son beyond the forest to the fields and they would enjoy the breeze and watch it ripple through the tall green grass. Arthur would pretend they were undertaking a long journey when in reality they would only walk for a short while before having to return home. Those were the last few times, while Abraham still had the strength to walk, that Arthur could remember being so excited about life. After that, he wanted nothing more than to continue that tradition.
The dark silhouette of the large capital snapped Arthur from his daydream. The smog hung low and thin on the clear day, but was still visible. As his car navigated the crowded streets, it seemed he was headed for one of the poorer districts, and he hoped this investigation wouldn't take long so that he could enjoy his car ride back through the countryside. The car glided through the dirty streets to a small alleyway. On the other side of the street lay the paper's address: an orphanage. How odd, he thought as he checked three times more to make sure he had the right place. He was, indeed, correct. The building stood four stories tall and had a tall, wrought-iron fence surrounding a small yard and a few scrawny trees that struggled to shade the thin, patchy grass. A small number of children played together inside the perimeter. When Arthur approached the gate, they ran off and disappeared. A young woman scurried to the gate and pushed it open for him. He thanked her and tipped his hat, to which she didn't respond with anything more than a slight glare.
Inside the building was no better. The dark hall led to an administrative office to the right, stairs going up to the left, and a door to a decrepit courtyard opposite the entrance. The sound of children filled the halls, but they weren't as happy as he remembered the sound to be from his primary days at a boarding school. These children were much lonelier, despite having the luxury of spending all day with almost nobody but their own kind. There were no other adults around, leaving Arthur to stand in place and lean from one direction to another, searching for even one person who might be able to help him. The woman's glare from his entrance at the gate seemed much more welcoming, now.
Two small children, a boy and girl, suddenly ran past him laughing, and he gave an amused smile as he watched them. They stopped and looked at him, rather confused. He beamed at them without a word and they giggled. He kneeled down to their level and examined them closer. Their cheeks had a day's worth of dirt and dust and scrapes from playing outside, though their smiles remained. He looked between them and the sad-looking office before asking them "may I have a tour of your home?"
The boy looked doubtful, but the girl approached him and took his hand in her own tiny hand. "I'll show you everything, sir!" She began to take off before looking back at him. "You're not here to adopt one of us, are you?"
The man chuckled and shook his head. "I'm only here to see about some sort of unusual event or person; I confess I'm really not sure which, at the moment."
"Oh," the girl said grimly. "You're probably here for him."
Arthur could only give a puzzled expression. "Exactly who is... Him?"
The boy stepped forward, a pleading expression on his face. "Please tell me you're here to take him somewhere else."
The man gazed at them again. "Well how will I know who to look for? Who is this person?"
"Oh you'll know him when you see him, all right," the girl said, her nose crumpling up as she glared into space at whoever was in her mind. "He's-"
"May I help you, sir?" A grating voice came from the office door. The two children scurried off without looking back and Arthur stood up to see a thin, aged woman peering at him over her large spectacles.
"Forgive me madam, I'm-"
"May I help you, sir?" The woman repeated churlishly.
Arthur stepped forward and produced his badge with the royal insignia upon it. He didn't like showing it off to just anyone, but this was an investigation, after all, and this woman was already proving to be an insufferable obstacle. "I'm here on official royal duty, madam. If I could have a few minutes of your time." She stared at the badge a moment before standing back to usher him into her office, her expression still unchanged but her Napoleonic demeanor obviously dampened.
The office was even dingier than the rest of the building. Old wood paneling in a classic late 1800's style was warping and cracking in numerous places and a few floor lamps and the desk light lit the otherwise pitch black room. A bowl of very old-looking mint candies stood on the desk, jealously guarded for so long that they were faded and cracked. The chair in which he sat before the desk was stiff and formal-looking. The woman sat on the other side of the desk and pushed the bowl towards him, silently but with an air of contempt.
"May I ask what brings you to this asylum, sir?" She forced the formality rather dramatically and almost laughably.
"I received this and wanted to follow up on this strange event," he replied curtly as he handed her the letter. She grabbed it with a gnarly, wrinkled hand and squinted at it under her glasses.
"We'll I don't know where you got this, but such an event did occur." She pushed the candy bowl once more, as if to threaten to push it onto his lap. He pushed them back competitively and stared at her as authoritatively as he knew how. Her face twisted emotionlessly and she got up to close the door before sitting down and looking at the paper once again. "We have a boy here who seems perfectly normal- he's five years old, a pale complexion, average height and weight- but he has a devil of a temper- like no child I've ever seen. He has gotten into scraps with older boys and miraculously sent them running every time before one of our staff could intervene. He seems to possess an unusual amount of strength. Whoever sent you this letter was obviously concerned about his danger to everyone else."
Arthur pondered this all for a few minutes. It did not sound like a vampire, nor would it be one of those dreaded werewolves. He had never heard of a child demon or any kind of child creature posing such an apparent threat.
"The event of which this letter speaks," the woman continued, "was one in which the boy escaped the confines of the fence outside. Nobody is sure how it happened, though some children say he leaped to the top of the fence in a single bound and ran after his duel with the others. The constables chased him for hours- far past the time it would take any normal child to become exhausted. One constable reported seeing him jump from a roof and land perfectly, unharmed. But this is also still questionable. What is most puzzling, however, is how he ever even got to the fence. He had been put in his room with the door locked from the outside three hours prior." The woman seemed tired and twice as exasperated at the end of her account, plucking one of the mints from the ancient bowl and crunching it, loudly and carelessly.
"May I see the boy?" Arthur asked after a few uncomfortable moments of watching the old woman's mandibles somehow manage to grind the candy to dust and filling the air with a sickly sweet mint smell.
The woman stared blandly at him, jaw chewing as the request processed slower than the cow she resembled. "All right," she sighed as she got up. Natural light once again flooded the room as she bellowed over the sound of the children for a worker to come to her aid. The summoned worker closely resembled the lady at the gate, scowl and all, but with blond hair and a stouter figure. The administrator rudely ordered the woman to show Arthur to the boy's room, and the woman turned to him with a similar cow-like expression. "This way, sir," she drawled.
The second-floor room was small and dirty from years of no sweeping or dusting. A few belongings sat on a shelf in the corner and some drawers of a few outfits lay strewn about the room. Sitting on the small cot was a small, dark-haired boy. He sat with his hands in his lap and his head down, as if Arthur were the executioner, come to take him away. He glanced up at the stranger with a dangerous and rebellious spark in his eye. He had deep blue eyes that glinted out from under long black bangs that went unkempt. He wore a white button-down shirt under old khaki shorts with suspenders. He glared fiercely at Arthur, who remained unfettered. He motioned for the worker to wait outside the room, and she turned her nose up at him as she closed the door behind her.
"Is everyone here always so insufferable?" He wondered aloud through a small smile. The boy remained silent. He turned his gaze towards the near-opaque window of dust and dirt. Small holes in the dust had been made with a small sleeve for a better view, but it still wasn't much. His eyes pierced everything they touched, yet they seemed to hold back fatigue. Arthur studied the boy for a few moments. The boy's eyes quivered, his curiosity slowly overcoming him. Finally, he took one short glance at the man. Arthur seized the opportunity, much to the boy's dismay.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he began as he kneeled down on one knee. "My name is Sir Arthur Hellsing. What's yours?"
The boy eyed him cautiously before turning to face the other window again and muttering something.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Arthur replied, hoping this wasn't going to be such a waste of time that he couldn't even get the name of the child.
"Dornez," the boy muttered. "Walter Dornez." His voice was high and reedy, like any child, and his speech was accompanied by the typical child's inflection and pronunciation flaws and lisps, yet he seemed more aged; more dangerously aware.
"Well I am very pleased to meet you, Walter," the man replied with a warm smile. He held out his hand for the boy to shake, but the child refused. Arthur felt his impatience and temper rising before he quickly subdued it. The last thing he needed was to become just as impetuous as the rest of the people in this place.
"Now tell me," Arthur pressed, "what's special about you?"
The boy looked doubtful, his eyes ready to catch the first weakness Arthur might show. "Who wants to know?"
"Only me," Arthur replied. "I've sent that rather stuffy nurse out to the hall and I can assure you the grumpy head lady is still downstairs."
"What are you going to do if I tell you?" Walter asked, his eyes glinting again. "Loads of people ask me things like that."
"Oh really? Like who?"
"Doctors," the boy replied. "They say I'm not right. But they don't really know what they're saying. I could beat them."
"Really, and how would you do that?"
"It just..." The boy trailed off, apparently confused. "I... Don't know how it happens..."
"What happens, my boy?" Arthur leaned in closer, watching the boy intently.
"What are you going to do?" the boy repeated.
Arthur looked off into the distance. What would he do? Certainly if the boy was somehow special and not just playing tricks, he would have to do something. He would have to take him away from this dismal situation; that was for sure.
"I might be able to help you. Not fix- help."
Walter looked at him carefully and decided to comply. He walked over to the wardrobe that sat empty in the corner. He grabbed the end of it and, though he struggled a bit, picked it up. Arthur could only stare.
"And I do this," the boy continued, more excitedly now. He leapt up so high that he grabbed the top of the wardrobe, climbing on top and jumping off, landing on the concrete floor unharmed- a feat that would leave most children with a broken wrist. "I used to go out the window, but then that old lady downstairs figured out what I was doing and made the workers close the window for good." Arthur stood up and peered out the window to see the clumps of grass and dirt of the courtyard far below. Walter sat back on the bed and resumed his defensive posture. "So are you going to try and fix me, too?" he grumbled.
Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but could say and do nothing. What was this child? He seemed human enough, but at the same time, so… different. It was no wonder he didn't fit in with the other children at all, he thought, his heart sinking. To think he had no parents with whom to live, as Arthur lived with his father who cared for him each and every day.
No- this was just another child, one like all the others in the institution. There was no reason to get attached. And Arthur reminded himself that this was an investigation of the strange and possibly paranormal, nothing more.
"I'll… be back in a few minutes," Arthur muttered before hastily leaving. Walter only stared after him, his gaze piercing deep into the man's head.
Arthur rushed past the worker, who called after him once before giving up, and down the stairs, past the office, whose door was closed again, and out to the front yard. He paced feverishly, trying to clear his head of all these conflicting thoughts. A small bench sat near the door, faded and in serious disrepair. He carefully took a seat and only gazed aimlessly.
The old woman had, thankfully, finished her mint as Arthur came into the dingy office once again. She stared at him. "You're still here."
"I must know more about this child," he replied urgently. "Where did he come from? How long has he been here?"
The woman motioned him to sit down and rolled her eyes.
"He's been here for about a year now. He came here from another institution that would no longer care for him. He's been through this many times- ever since he was old enough to speak and walk."
"All right, and where did he come from originally? Please, I must know everything there is to know," he replied, almost breathless.
The woman only rolled her eyes again. "As I recall," she started, making sure to take her time, "he was left anonymously with only his birth certificate."
Arthur sighed with relief knowing that the child wasn't some monster. Even if the boy had been some dark creature, Arthur knew he would have felt a bit bad sending his vampire weapon after a child. He thanked the woman, who only popped another mint in her mouth, and he dashed back upstairs.
The young boy was staring out the window when the man came into his room once again. He turned to look at Arthur skeptically. "You're sweating," he observed rudely before turning back to gaze out the window. Arthur took no notice of the comment and got down on one knee again to look at the boy. Just his posture suggested he was lonely. Perhaps all he needed was… another person. Arthur gazed past the boy and out the window as well. This would change everything, he thought. Is this the proper choice? He bowed his head, closed his eyes and remembered his father, trying to think of what Abraham might say to the situation. He thought of his life at home. He barely ever got time to himself with all the custodians fussing over him and the work that was required of him. What would they say to this predicament?
But try as he might, he simply could not place himself in their shoes, or the shoes of his father. He had known them all his life, yet he could not think of what guidance they would provide him. A sudden memory struck him, and he thought back to one of the walks in the forest with his father. The two had come across a hunter's trap, and tangled in the hanging net was a rabbit. The creature squirmed, and when it spotted the two humans approaching, it struggled even more. Arthur's attention was instantly caught, and he could only stare and feel sorry for the helpless animal.
"What do we do, father?" he asked, thoroughly distressed. He turned and saw that his father was quite a few paces behind, standing silently in his dark, crimson overcoat and gazing thoughtfully at his son from beneath his matching large hat. Arthur began to approach his father, but was stopped by Abraham's slowly shaking head. He pointed back towards the rabbit. "This isn't a case of what we should do. You were the one who found him- You ought to already know your choice. It is not mine to make. Will you spare the rabbit's life, or let the hunter have the spoils of his kill? Have you yet considered the consequences one decision or the other might have? There are times when your morality, your beliefs will be questioned or tested. You must turn only to yourself. If you ask others for their help, you will never find the right answer."
Arthur nodded slowly, slightly confused by his father's latest of many deep monologues, and turned back to the rabbit, which was now thoroughly panicked.
It's my choice, he thought slowly. …And I already know the answer.
He stepped forward, watching the animal carefully as it knew its life was in danger, freezing as the boy approached, eyes wide, nose barely twitching and its sides heaving. Arthur produced his tiny pocket knife from his coat and cut at the rope net until it fell apart, and the rabbit fell to the ground and dashed away before Arthur could barely blink. He felt the reassuring hand of his father on his shoulder and smiled a little. He asked his father what he would have done, but Abraham only shook his head again. "Trying to compare your choices to others is just the same as asking them to decide for you, son." Arthur was never able to figure out what his father would have done. Sometimes he thought the man would have spared the rabbit out of pity for seeing it struggle in the net, but other times he thought his father might have been wise and jaded enough to let the rabbit meet its death at the hands of a hunter, who might have needed the rabbit for food. Arthur often questioned even his own judgment that day, but his decision always seemed to come back to freeing the rabbit from its personal hell there in the net.
Walter was now staring straight at the strange man and wondering if he was all right.
"You aren't suffocating, are you?" he asked impatiently as he looked on either side of the man, trying to determine his condition. "You can die if your head's upside down long enough, you know."
Arthur sighed and looked up, his face a mere foot or so from Walter's. The boy gave a start and sat hastily back on the cot.
Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could go back to his normal life of security provided by his late father's servants and signing documents from the peace and quiet of his office, or he could potentially turn his entire life on its head, changing the essence of what his father's organization was all about and changing the way he ran the family business. He finally spoke.
"Walter, would you like to come home with me?"
The boy's eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed. "Is this some sort of trick? I know tricks really well. I know all of them."
The man chuckled. "No, I can assure you it isn't a joke. I live in the countryside. You can finally be away from these narrow streets, surrounded by brick walls and dead ends. The air will be fresh, like you've never breathed before. It's apparent you aren't the same as anyone else, and you should be proud of that. Perhaps we can find a way to make it all work to your advantage. What do you say?" He held out a hand for Walter to take.
Walter frowned in thought. This man called Arthur seemed sincere- more sincere than any of the doctors or other children- and certainly more than the mean old lady downstairs in the office. He could be free from all the children who wouldn't let him play with them. The girls would no longer throw rocks from a distance and the boys would no longer shout and taunt him. There would be no more doctors telling him he wasn't fit for normal life. There would be no more tiny areas enclosed in black metal fences.
It sounded like heaven.
The boy slowly reached out and took the man's hand, and jumped off the cot. The two walked towards the door together before Arthur stopped and looked behind him. "Don't you need to take anything with you?" The boy looked back up at Arthur and shook his head. Arthur understood and leaned down and muttered "how about we forget about that woman standing outside the door and simply run back downstairs ourselves? It couldn't be any more dreadful than having her escort us around everywhere as if we've done something wrong." Walter's face lit up and he nodded exuberantly.
The woman stood outside Walter's door and looked at her watch for the fifth time, getting impatient. She turned to reach for the doorknob, but the door flew open with a bang and the man and child sprinted past her, laughing as they went. The woman jumped back and shouted at them. "Just what do you think you're doing?!"
"I'm going away for good, and you can't stop me!" Walter shouted back. Arthur laughed and they took off down the stairs.
"What's all this commotion, then?" the cranky old woman shouted. Man and child stood before her outside the office, panting and smiling.
"Madam," said Arthur between pants, "I wish to take this child home with me."
The woman gave a well-practiced glare. "Well you can't simply walk out of here with him! Arrangements must be made! Rules must be followed!"
"Of course, I'll sign the necessary documents, and you may see whatever credentials of mine that you require," he replied proudly.
The papers seemed endless: health records, possible past offences, identification of multiple kinds, addresses, even vehicle registrations and proofs of birth. Arthur wondered if some of these things were needed, but he eagerly complied nonetheless. He knew that this was the choice he wanted.
After an eternity in the tiny office, Walter and Arthur left for good. The old woman followed them out to the front door, chomping on a mint expressionlessly as the worker next to her glared with all her might, hoping to never see such a troublesome pair in her institution ever again. Some of the children gathered at the windows and along the fence of the front yard as Arthur came forward in his sleek dark car and got out to open the passenger door for Walter. The boy looked back only once to give his former peers a triumphant smirk before climbing into the car and riding away. He didn't even bother to turn around to see their reactions as he actually left towards a home.
The buildings became smaller as the car glided over the cobblestones and towards the edge of the city. Walter was practically ecstatic. He stood on the seat to get a better view out the window, and when he looked over the dashboard, he saw the hill that had always obstructed his view of what lay beyond. He bounced up and down and shouted excitedly and Arthur sped up.
The car reached the top of the hill, and the boy gasped, deep and long. There, before him, lay the countryside. There was nothing but grass, trees and low stone fences stretching to the horizons. He pressed his face to the glass and watched the ground below speed up even more. He turned to look behind the car and saw only the auburn dust the car kicked up. Arthur held the steering wheel with his knees and reached over, showing him how to use the lever on the door to lower the window. Walter eagerly cranked it down until the glass disappeared and he stuck his head out the window. He took in a deep breath and smiled from ear to ear.
The car passed through a narrow road with tall, overgrown grass on either side, and Walter reached his hand out and plucked a single, long blade, breaking it in two and smelling the fresh foliage. Arthur gave him a smiling glance and lowered the driver's window. Dandelions grew amongst the grass and their cotton had recently bloomed. Arthur reached his hand out and ran it through the weeds as the car kept speeding along. The result was a white cloud trailing behind the car, and Walter smiled before leaning out the window to run his hand through the dandelions on his side. He admired the cloud mixed with the trail of dust with the biggest smile he could ever remember wearing.
Eventually their dandelions ran out and Arthur resumed putting his full attention on driving. Walter spotted herds of sheep and cattle, and even a few horses. Each time he saw a herd or lone animal, he would joyously call out, naming the animal and making sure Arthur saw them too. A single farm house came up on the passenger side, and Walter spotted two children outside the house, running and playing. He could hear them shouting and laughing, and he fell silent, watching them with an awed expression. Arthur noticed his silence and saw the children as well.
"Is… is it going to be like that?" the boy asked quietly.
"Yes, almost exactly like that. Is something the matter?"
"Hm… no," replied Walter thoughtfully. He sat back down in his seat and smiled into space, wringing his hands excitedly.
"Well we're nearly there," Arthur chuckled.
"Already? Wow!" Walter stood up again and held his hand out the window. The wind flew past his hand so fast that it felt almost as if his arm were flying on its own. He dipped his hand down and back up, making airplane noises. The sun felt warm on his hand, even with the wind rushing past. He leaned against the door and held both arms out to soak up the sunlight.
Finally, a large mansion appeared in the distance as the car climbed over a hill. As they approached, Walt could see that this house had the same black iron fencing, but it was different, somehow. There was much more space inside. The grass was a lush emerald green and there were shrubs and trees, even some ruins of old brick buildings standing in the corner next to a stately house. It was huge- much, much larger than the asylum. It seemed friendlier, too. The windows were all sparkling clean and the stonework in top form. The car slowly turned and ambled up the gravel driveway. The crunching sound beneath the tires was peaceful, and he could hear a lark singing somewhere from the trees that surrounded the property.
The car stopped in a roundabout in the shade of the house in the afternoon sun, and Arthur got out to open the door for Walter, despite his insisting he open it himself. He jumped down and felt the gravel beneath his shoes, and it crunched even more delightfully than when the car rolled over it. He wobbled, his legs weak from the long car ride, and Arthur quickly took his hand, leading him up the few front steps to the large, oaken double doors. "Welcome home, Walter."