The whole ordeal was just so... over the top. Ileana had spent her first evening watching as her uncle and the Count's carriage drivers moved all the current equipment into the lab, and when Victor insisted that he would need to travel home to ensure the rest of it arrived safely, the Count was quick to offer up the chance of getting new equipment. He would place an order in for it, and it would arrive within two weeks from Bucharest, the capital. Pleased to not have to make the lengthy trip twice, Victor agreed and that was that. The wolves were howling like mad the night she had arrived, and while she explored the dark castle on her own - Victor was elsewhere with the Count, admiring the state of the art laboratory that the Count had constructed in the eastern section of the place - she couldn't help but feel haunted by the stone walls. They had a prison-esque feel to them, and she always felt as though the eyes in the old portraits were watching her, following her steps with their hollow orbs. While she would never express her unhappiness with the castle outwardly, inwardly she felt at odds. Their home in the country was just so quaint. It wasn't small by any means, but the castle felt so cold and distant, much like the Count. Once they had removed all their belongings from the carriage, they seemed to vanish into the night, and Victor and Ileana were left alone. The Count insisted he would return the next day to help them properly settle in.

Naturally, Victor chose a bedroom on the first floor. It was directly below his lab, and she was pretty sure a staircase led up and into his workshop... There would be countless late nights with him using those stairs, and she pondered whether or not it was a good thing to let him have that room. There was no talking him out of it though; it was small, minimalistic, but large enough for at least two decent sized bookcases. Ileana, on the other hand, had moved away from the first floor and its kitchens to a room in one of the four towers. It faced the top of the laboratory, which was at the bottom of the opposing tower. There was a small lavatory below the circular room, and she had to admit that it wasn't the biggest dwelling in the castle. There were a lot of empty ones below, and while they were larger, this one seemed to suit her. There was a balcony, perhaps two feet out, for her to see the small village across the river from them, which was a pleasant view in the morning. Her bed was larger than the one back home, and while she simply slept on her blankets for the first night, she would need to go to the village and purchase larger sheets to make it proper. Her books fit neatly into the one shelf that she had been provided with, and the young woman had decided that the skilled art of putting up picture clippings would have to wait for a later date. For now, they remained in her bag.

Despite the fact she had already slept for five or four hours on the carriage ride to Transylvania, she was absolutely bushed once she had unpacked a little, and sleep came easily, despite the fact she was feeling uncomfortable with the whole situation. When she awoke the next morning, she found herself greeted with what appeared to be another miserable day. The clouds hung low in the skies, blocking out the sun completely, and the trees had a fresh layer of snow on them, leaving the roads icy and somewhat dangerous looking. As she peered out the window in her dressing robe, she noted that the bridge that crossed from the castle to the other side of the river appeared unstable at best, and there was a sinking feeling in her heart that it was made to look like that on purpose.

Dressing somewhat plainly in a brown dress with white cuffs and a circular neckline, Ileana made her way down to the kitchen, feet covered in small black shoes to keep out the chill. The castle was warmer on the first floor, namely because of all the fireplaces that were keeping it heated, and she could smell the scent of fresh bread before she made it into the eatery. Quite unshocked, she noted that the Count was there, showing her uncle how some of the more modern cooking devices worked while Victor watched with awe.

"Good morning," she greeted, pushing some hair behind her ear. Victor was the faster of the two to look back, and he beamed, "Morning, chick pea. The Count has just brought us some breakfast... Says the food will be delivered by a villager once a week, so we don't have to go down there ourselves. Isn't that kind of him?"

Ileana smiled briefly, then nodded, "Very. It seems your generosity knows no limit, Count."

"Some could say that," he mused, flinching as Victor pushed a rather large knife through a piece of hard fruit, grinning at his accomplishment when the blade slid halfway through. "The villagers are a pest, to be frank. I was hoping to spare you the task of having to deal with them."

"Well, I'm afraid I'll have to, as I need to find larger bed sheets for my bed in the tower," she insisted politely, sidling into the kitchen and over toward Victor, who seemed to be struggling to get the knife out of the fruit. Clucking her tongue at him, she pushed him aside gently, then eased the knife out, rolling her eyes inwardly. The Count frowned, "I'll send for new bedding from the capital. It'll be better quality."

"Ah, but that will take two weeks to get here," she argued, keeping a firm smile on her lips. "Don't fret, Count. I can walk into the village and buy what needs to be bought."

"Nonsense," he chuckled coldly, his eyes fixed on her, "I'll have some brought over from my palace by a servant... Then you'll have good quality bedding until your own arrives in from the capital."

"But-"

"Ileana, stop being difficult," Victor chided, snatching up half of the fruit and stuffing it in his mouth. "She'll do with whatever you give her, Count. Now, when are we starting the interviews?"

Her eyes had not left the Count's, though he was the first to look away, seeming to put their argument about bedding off for now. She turned away and helped herself to a large slice of bread, then fumbled around the somewhat empty cupboards until she found the tin of jam that Victor had brought with him. The man liked his jam.

"The interviews will start in an hour... I have a lot of men lined up to help you. All of them are eager young scientists."

"Excellent," Victor trilled, popping the last bit of fruit into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully for a moment, "and I should hope you will stay for the meetings. I'd always like a second opinion."

Ileana coughed on her mouthful of bread, shooting her uncle a rather annoyed look; didn't her opinion matter for anything? Clearly not when it came to choosing a second assistant to help around in the massive laboratory. Stowing her anger for now, she continued to eat her piece of bread in silence, leaning back against the wooden cabinets as the Count and her uncle spoke.

"Oh, I had every intention of staying," the Count assured him. "After all, some of the men are from my country, and I'm sure they will behave themselves if I'm present. Most over here take the English for granted, I must admit."

Ileana recalled his joke from the night before, then rolled her eyes, pushing the last bit of bread into her mouth before wiping her hands on her dress, "Well, are there other sorts of men too? Any Englishmen on that list?"

"Two," he informed her, his blue eyes returning to match her. "Both from London... Both are university students."

"Excellent," Ileana mused, "I think it will be refreshing to meet someone from home."

"Oh, but we want culture in the house, gosling," Victor said suddenly. "Where are my manners... Count! Would you like something to eat?"

The taller man wrinkled his nose at the second half of the fruit that was held out for him, then took a step back, shaking his head, "I've already eaten, Victor. This is for you and your niece."

"Oh, all right then."

She rolled her eyes once again, then released a sigh, "How many applicants sighed up for today?"

"Nearly thirty," the Count replied, "but I've only seen potential in a few."

"Hmm... It's going to be a very long day, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

Dear Lord, what a dull conversation. The kitchen was not equipped with a proper table and chair setting just yet, so they were forced to stand for the entirety of the meal, though it was mercifully cut short when a strong wind swept in and blew several of the windows in the hallway open, prompting her uncle and the Count to hurry off to close them. Her eyes peeked out the small pair of windows over the nearby slate countertop and she frowned; why was it that the Count always brought a storm with him? As soon as he had left their home in the south the weather was simply lovely - cold, but that couldn't be helped - and when he had departed the night before, Ileana noted that just before she fell asleep the sky had cleared.

Strange. Very strange indeed.

When Victor and Ileana had finished with their short breakfast, they were escorted by the Count to a sitting room, one of the few lavishly furnished rooms in the house, and it was there that they would hold interviews for each applicant. There were four couches in the room, each a royal red and they were centred around a fireplace, which the Count had taken to lighting once they arrived. There were maps of Romania up on the wall, as long as several that depicted the Eastern European alliances and countries in general. It was history in the making, and if she could, she would simply go from each to the other and admire the way the artist had drawn them. Perhaps she would even taken one when no one was around and hang it in her room.

"These look like highly skilled men, Count," Victor mused as he looked through a set of files while seated on one of the couches. "Wherever did you find them?"

"I have some friends in high places," the Count replied, stepping back as the wood in the fireplace was consumed with a flickering orange flame, "and they were happy to recommend them to me."

"We're so fortunate to have you with us," Victor mused softly, moving onto another applicant's file as Ileana settled down next to him, her brown eyes skimming the papers as her uncle worked through them. The Count simply bowed his head, "I am interested in seeing this experiment succeed, Victor, and I want talented individuals working on it..."

Ileana raised an eyebrow at him and her lips pursed; he didn't think that she and her uncle could handle the experiment on their own. That was probably the only reason he was bringing in people from the outside to help. It seemed like a pointless waste of time and effort, seeing as she and Victor were perfectly capable of performing the task; they had always done it in the past, and there was no reason why they couldn't do it now.

And so the application process started. The men would come and either sit or stand opposite Victor and Ileana (with the Count standing behind their couch, watching rather than speaking) and her uncle would ask them to explain their academic background. Once that was established, Victor would then tell them whether or not he was interested in speaking to them any longer. While her uncle was extremely excited about the experiment, he did not want anyone with less than six years of study working under him. For once he was putting his foot down, and Ileana had to admit that she was proud of him. The Count seemed particularly menacing while he stood behind her, and she noted that anyone that was not from Eastern Europe seemed particularly uncomfortable under his gaze. One of the lads from London - well, not lad... he was in his early forties - lost his place while speaking several times with the looks he was getting from the Romanian nobleman.

The day drained on rather slowly, and Ileana found herself bored with many of the applicants. They were a bit stuffy for her liking, and some had a lot of trouble speaking English. While her uncle wanted culture, she knew he also wanted someone that he could easily communicate with, and not being able to speak their mothertongue would be a problem. One of the men simply made Ileana uncomfortable. His name was Igor, and he gave no last name, but apparently he was local to the region, and despite his hunched back and pale complexion, he impressed Victor with his knowledge of science and electricity. The Count too seemed highly impressed, and when the man was gone, he suggested that they didn't need to see anymore applicants; Igor was the one. Ileana was hesitant at that, simply because there was something about the fellow that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He was ... odd. Creepy. Not someone she wanted to share a living space with. She suggested seeing just one more person, in case the next man was a brilliant marvel, and reluctantly the Count backed off his instance for Igor.

The next arrival suited her taste much more. He was tall, blond with blue eyes and when she glanced down at his references over Victor's shoulder, she noted that he was the second English bloke on the list. She grinned reassuringly at him and couldn't help but watch intently as her uncle grilled him for answers. He was tougher now, considering the man standing before them was quite young. Fresh out of university, he was, and had been studying science and countless related fields since he was a teen under private tutors. He spoke eloquently and had this natural charisma to him that the others seemed to lack. The young woman settled back on the couch, arms crossed and a satisfied grin on her lips. She knew exactly who she wanted working with them in the lab. The man was attractive, intelligent, and actually had a personality. Hector. That was his name. What a lovely name. When the interview had finished, he left the room with a bow, shooting Ileana a rather cheeky grin and a wink with it. Mercifully her uncle missed it, as he would never allow a man in the house if he thought he would try and flirt with his niece. What Victor didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Her heartbeat raced.

"I liked him," Ileana admitted quickly once the door to the study shut, shooting a look between the Count and her uncle. "He seemed more than able-"

"I don't know," Victor sighed, cutting her off as he rustled through the man's papers. "He seems a bit young."

"Young?" she countered, raising an eyebrow, "Young can be good, uncle. He's modern. He'll have something to teach us, just as you can teach him. Youth is never a bad thing."

"He's arrogant," the Count interjected with a frown, causing her to look back at him quickly. "I'm sure he already thinks that the job is his... You could tell by the way he spoke."

"Nonsense," Ileana snapped, not wanting to lose her chance at some normalcy around the household, "I thought he was modest and humble."

"Ah, but are you really one to judge men?" the Count inquired lightly, a smirk on his lips, "I wasn't aware you were such an expert in judging them..."

Ileana's jaw dropped; how dare he?! The Romanian turned his attention to Victor, "I still think Igor was the prime choice for this. He will be able to converse with the men who bring you supplies, and I see him as someone very dedicated to his work."

"I couldn't agree more, Count."

"Uncle!" Ileana hissed, eyes narrowing, "We mustn't be hasty with this decision... Hector was very-"

"The decision is not yours, Ileana," Victor informed her frankly, closing Hector's file and tossing it on the table, "and I agree with the Count... Igor is in. He's just what I've been looking for."

Was he serious? How could he be serious? Grinding her teeth together, she could feel a pout coming on. She hated to pout because it made her feel spoiled, but this really seemed like a good time to see if it would work on her uncle, "Seeing as my opinion isn't needed or valued... I'll take my leave."

"Ileana-"

"Really, uncle," she grumbled as she rose from the couch. "You've got the Count here... No need for my input."

And with that, she stalked out of the room, opening and shutting the door rather forcefully. Dramatic spats were not her style, but when she wanted to make a point, it had a tendency to work on her uncle. As she moved down the dimly lit hallway, she released a gasp when she came face to face with Hector, who had been waiting around a corner and poked his head out when he heard her coming.

"Sorry," he chuckled, stepping out with his hands up, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I... I just really put a lot into this job, and I wanted to wait around to see if there was any chance I got it."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, then let out a sigh, "I... I really don't think so. My uncle seems set on someone else, though I tried to put in a good word for you. You have wonderful credentials, Hector. I can keep trying, but I don't know if I can budge him on the issue."

"Don't bother, Miss," he murmured, running a hand through his blond hair, "I don't want to be pushed on him, you know? I appreciate you trying though."

"Not a problem," she said quickly, eying his attractive features in the shadows, "I really am sorry."

"That's the way it goes sometimes, I'm afraid."

"Indeed it does."

The Count's intrusion to the conversation made them both jump. She hadn't even heard the door open behind her, and she wondered just how long he had been standing there.

"Seeing as you are no longer under consideration," the Count started, stepping into the candlelight beside Ileana, "I only think it appropriate you vacate the castle. Best of luck elsewhere."

"Yes sir," Hector muttered, shooting the man a look before his blue eyes drifted to Ileana. "Look, my carriage to Budapest won't arrive for another four days... So I'll be in the village in the meantime. Why don't you come round... We'll have a spot of tea, or something. Always nice to meet a lovely English lady like yourself."

Ileana's cheeks flamed at the request, and she grinned, "Sure."

"You will need to ask your uncle before accepting a stranger's invitation, Ileana," the Count interjected suddenly, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her away. "I'll send a messenger down with her reply. Good day."

Ileana tried to object, but she soon found herself being forcefully led back down the hallway, and when she looked back over her shoulder, Hector had disappeared.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, struggling for a moment to slip free from his grasp. Pushing some hair out of her face, she turned to glare at him, her hands landing on her hips, "Who do you think you are? You have no right to send away someone like that... He's a guest-"

"In my castle, you must not forget," the Count stated, sounding somewhat bored with her, "and you must remember that you are the same. I'm only looking out for you. It is completely indecent for a woman your age to meet up with a stranger in the village... Your uncle would have a fit."

"You think you know so much about him, don't you?" she cracked in low tones, "You think you know my uncle... Well, you don't. You don't know what he wants, and you certainly can't fathom what he needs!"

"I know what I need, and what I want," he replied dangerously. "I need and want this experiment to work... It must be successful, and I won't have some fluffy romance between you and a boy ruin it."

She was taken back for a moment, then quickly regained her composure, "Don't be ridiculous. I haven't the slightest-"

"Your cheeks are still flushed," he commented, reaching up and poking one with his finger. The woman recoiled momentarily and pushed his hand away, "That's because I'm cross with you! Look, just because you are supporting us with this, doesn't mean you own us. We signed no contract and we can leave at any point!"

"Think what you want, Ileana," he mused, taking a step back with an eyebrow raised. "Think what you want."