Hey The Keeper of Worlds! Don't worry, all shall be explained soon…very soon…as soon as I can manage…yeah. I'm trying. Keep in mind, I'm trying out a new style of writing here. I'm doing the best I can! For other people who wonder, which I'm sure is everyone who has read this thus far, the parts with Alucard are in the past, which is where I will be MAINLY setting the story, but the other parts are with the current day "Hellsing" organization and its owner/heir/whatever and all the other loveable residents. Okay? Moving on~! I also apologize for any butchering of accents or dialects, as I am American and cannot speak nor write proper English at all, and am doing the best with what I have.

April 16, 2015


3rd Person POV:

Sir Celia Wynter Alyson Harker whistled absently as she sorted files, her elbow-length blonde hair tied back behind her ears in a sloppy, slightly ragged ponytail. The storm had passed, and the young heiress was left to her own devices as the not-quite-suspicious lull in vampire activity was still in full effect, and her idea of recreation, much to the puzzlement of the rest of the manor, was to sort the old, old case files, the ones that her great-grandfather and his colleagues had written. Celia wasn't sure why, but she just loved the way her ancestor had written his accounts. Most of them had small, sly bits of humor tucked in amongst the casualty reports, supply list, finances needed, and she always enjoyed reading them.

The subtle decrease in temperature of the air around her signaled the arrival of the Harker family's vampire, and she lowered the file currently in her hands. "Yes Integra, what is it?" she asked briskly as the vampiress melted through thin air, her reddish shadows reforming into her usual, primly aristocratic state. Her ruby-red eyes were focused on the file Celia held, and a faint smirk drifted around her fanged mouth. "Reading about your ancestor again?" she asked dryly, tilting her head to the side as her ash-blonde hair, far longer than Celia's, swayed behind her back like it had a life of its own.

Well, Integra was a vampire. It might very well.

"You knew my great-grandfather very well, didn't you?" Celia asked absently as she looked back down at the file, and Integra smiled faintly, catching the younger woman's eye. "What?" she asked sharply, and the undead female smiled wider. "My apologies, milady." she purred, bowing slightly from the waist. Celia could never understand why Integra insisted on wearing suits, even when going incognito. "But I think he was very like you. Always trying to catch me off guard with those pointed questions of his, and…" She trailed off, still smiling, and Celia narrowed her eyes. "And what?" she asked with faint suspicion, and Integra smirked. "And a very good master, just like you. Tolerant, patient, cunning, and ruthless." Celia raised an eyebrow at the surprisingly generous remark. "Is that so?"

"Exactly so. Would I lie to my master?"


1898
London, England:


"LA DRACU, DE CE ÎN NUMELE LUI HRISTOS AU SUNT DE ACORD VREODATÂ LA CHESTIA ASTA!"

CRASH!

SMASH!

BANG!

"Oh dear, it sounds as if Master's in a temper again." Yumiko sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as Seras paused mid-sip and involuntarily looked up over the rim of her teacup and at the ceiling, where the sounds of lusty and furious battle raged above. "Oh bloody hell, what's wrong with him now?" she sighed, setting the delicate china down on the well-worn wood of the kitchen counter. Both maids had been working at the estate long enough to know that such temper-tantrums came often, came ferociously, and anyone who intruded upon them often left in a stretcher.

One of the manservants popped his head in as the yelling and sounds of smashing crockery, furniture, or whatever-it-was intensified, causing the ultra-shy Yumiko to squeak and blush at the sight of the newcomer. "All hell's ragin' on up above." he observed gloomily, not attempting to enter any further into the room. "Master's gone an' got 'imself into a pet 'cause of whatever new problem the toffs 'ave laid on 'is plate. Wouldn't fancy being in house after tea." he rattled off, then darted back into the hallway, no doubt seeking, like all other servants, the farthest spot in the manor away from the epicenter of rage in the main office.

Seras, being one of the head maids, was not afforded such a luxury, but Yumiko, as one of the gardening staff, could easily escape out of the building if she so pleased, and looked liable to do so at the first opportunity. Seras sighed wistfully as she picked up her teacup again. "It would be grand if Master wasn't so foreign, and we could know what's bothering him so." She said pensively, and Yumiko nervously pushed her glasses up once more. "Probably something to do with his job." she said carefully, for being just as "foreign" as their shared master, her English was not perfect. It was, however, far better than her twin sister Yumie's, which verged just short of incomprehensible. Luckily, we don't have to deal with Yumie unless a vampire attacks the manor. Seras observed with secret relief, because Yumie was…a great less pleasant than her younger twin, and far less civilized. She was lucky to have a job at all, but Master Alucard couldn't be everywhere, and they needed someone to protect the grounds at night. Yumiko, who was so meek and gentle she couldn't hurt a fly, was much better suited to the tending of plants and flowers.

Both girls winced as another roar of incomprehensible Romanian boomed out above their heads, accompanied by a rending crash that sounded as if the master of the manse was destroying a desk with his bare hands. "I suppose it's lucky he hasn't learned all the English he needs to curse, or every lady in the house would quit." Seras murmured wryly as she took another sip of tea, and Yumiko giggled shyly.

Meanwhile, three floors above the gossiping maids, the subject of their derision was pacing agitatedly across the polished mahogany floor of his office. "THIS!" he snarled as he waved the offending piece of paper in Walter's face, his control of English already far regressed from his usual quick fluency. Walter did not attempt to grab the paper, perhaps out of fear that Alucard would break his hand if he tried. Although the young Romanian aristocrat knew that Walter could probably calm him down, he also knew that Walter would let his anger run its course, because more often than not, if it was repressed, his anger would break out when he was slaughtering vampires, which often ended badly for him. Best to let him vent, was what was no doubt running through the older man's mind, an attitude Alucard both resented and was grateful to.

He threw the heavy parchment on his desk in disgust. "A ball! A bloody ball!" he snarled, his hazel eyes practically glowing with rage. He whipped away from the desk and continued to pace, the fabric of his dark suit fluttering behind him. "They have the –the frivolity to invite me to some kind of, of-" He seethed for a moment, vainly attempting to call up the English rendition of the word, before finally giving up. "-some kind of prostesc ball! Am I not busy enough for them!? I've killed dozens of their vampires, slaughtered hundreds of their ghouls in protection of their citizens, and they think I have the time and health to attend a ball!"

Walter, wisely, did not reply.

"My wounds won't heal for another three days! And after that, you know the Queen will send me out on another mission! She won't fail to! I'm the best damn hunter you English have got!" Alucard continued, kicking the chair in front of him and sending it crashing to the ground, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

Walter finally decided to interject. "If I may, my lord," he began, readying his microfilament wires in case they were needed. "You could always reject the invitation."

Alucard sent him a single look of disbelief. "The rest of your English nobles all despise me for being not an English nobleman, and you want me to give them more fuel for their fires?" he asked icily, and Walter coughed.

"It seems like your best option, sir. That is, if attending is so much of a bother for you." he pointed out delicately, and Alucard silently fumed, striding over to the fireplace and ruthlessly stirring the flames with an iron poker, his face set in a pained grimace. Walter watched him for a while, his frown increasing slightly and deepening the faint wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and mouth. Alucard had indeed progressed far from the arrogant, demanding Romanian that had accosted him over a vampire's ashes and demanded recompense, but his temper still got the best of him…often, if Walter was to be fair. "I might also add, sir, that some of the higher class of vampires may chance at attending. It is, after all, open to guests, and the blood of the nobility is something vampires don't taste often." he hinted, and Alucard's head came up like a dog catching a scent as he eyed the older, more experienced hunter watchfully.

"You've seen this before?" he asked warily, and Walter nodded quietly. "Oftentimes, it's the truly elder vampires that attend such events, as they are so much better at disguising their true nature. Younger ones are too inexperienced and leery of so many important, oftentimes well-aware humans all in the same place. Too many people could notice them for what they are, which is exactly why the oldest Nosferatu can't resist going. Baiting the bear, as it were, except that they also stand a chance of feeding off it."

Alucard pursed his lips and gestured irritably towards the innocent-seeming velum. "Fine. I'll sign it. God knows I'm going to regret it either way…" he muttered, retreating into the dark shadows of the nearby shelves as he no doubt searched for a book to take the edge off his anger.


8.48 PM, USA Central Time