A drop of sweat rolled over Integra's forehead, snaking over her skin before it reach the eyebrow. Pausing momentarily, as though considering which direction it could go it grew fat before suddenly moving across the ridge of protective hairs and quickly slid over her eyes lid and invaded the fragile membrane of her eye. The pain broke the teens concentration and she knew that in that instant she had lost. For the past minute she had been carefully watching her opponent, a man older and larger than herself, her blue eyes fixated on his weapon. Her heart thumped in her chest as she saw the end of his sword quiver playfully, teasing her, mocking her youth and inexperience. She knew that a wrong move would be the end of her and she needed to protect herself using every experience she could muster. At least that was before the sweat on her brow had betrayed her and doomed her fate. A flash of movement was all it took for the older man standing in front of her to lunge forward and strike her with his backsword, tearing though her sleeve and nicking the skin of her arm.

Integra yelped, dropping her own weapon to grab her arm. Ignoring her the older man lunged again and with the dull end of his weapon poked Inegra in the chest.

"You died my dear." he said in a voice so calm it was as though he had commented on a wrong arithmetic answer.

Integra frowned still clutching her arm, "Father that's not fair." she said, her tone full of bruised ego. "I was distracted and you're much stronger than me."

Sir Arthur Hellsing's eyebrows, white with age jumped at the her words, "Me? Stronger?" he chuckled, "My dear girl I am seventy-five years old. Hardly someone who can stand evenly against a young and vibrant youth."

"I'm only twelve father." Integra said causing her father to laugh and then cough. While her father fished out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket Integra moved her hand and inspected the red stain which hand spread from the cut in her sleeve. Frowning at the blood on her hand she noted that the cut hadn't been too deep and moving her arm did not hurt as much as she expected.

All the while Sir Arthur did his best to regain control of his lungs.

Watching the older man Integra frowned, "Father? Are you alright?" She took a step towards the older man and Sir Arthur held out his arm with a nod to stop her. Furrowing her brow Integra stopped and watched as the coughs racked through her father's body. They have become worse since only a month ago, she noted silently, and more frequent too . . .

"I'm just fine Integra." Sir Arthur said, wiping his mouth one final time, though when he pulled it away from his mouth the Intragra caught a glimpse of red staining as it vanished again into his pocket.

Adjusting his military uniform, Sir Arthur raised got into position and raised his sword to his nose before lowering it at an angle. As dated as the gesture was, Sir Arthur would not allow a duel to start in any other fashion and seeing this Integra quickly did the same. A small nod from her father signaled her to be on guard and Integra complied, taking a fighting stands, her left leg behind her as she bent the knee of her right. She raised the backsword in her hand, mirroring her father. This time she was the first to move, slowly sliding the leg behind her to the left before shifting the rest of her body, her father responded by moving right. Amusment twitched her brow and she could see he was enjoying himself.

He's teasing me . . . like a cat.

She hated all this but her father insisted she learn the art of blade fighting since she turned ten years old. Though this was the first time she fought without protection, and the first time she father actually drew blood with his weapon. When the coughs had taken over her father a year ago Integra thought the sword fighting would end, yet they only seemed to intensify. Longer hours, more frequent practices, less protection. Most days her father didn't fight, but stood watching, leaning on his cane in the corner of the room, or sitting at a table sipping tea brought in by Walter, the family butler.

"Remember Integra, the blade is a tool, a weapon, and a reminder that only through complete control of yourself can you defeat your enemy." he would say.

But his favorite saying was always, "Don't go for a kill unless you categorically need to, usually having your opponent at a disadvantage will be enough."

She listened to these words, though never really understood what he meant. Who would she fight with a blade? Who would even bother anymore?

Yet the most baffling words from her father came from their last session, once she was allowed to stop slashing away at the wooden model, "I think you misunderstand the reason behind your sword play Integra." he said to her.

Glancing at her father Integra just sighed, "I think you are right father."

he expected disappointment, even anger from her agreement but her father just nodded.

"Yes, you are looking at this through a literal lense The truth is that you will never use a blade against any man, but you must always keep the blade of your mind sharp, using what you learned today."

When he gave no further explanation she wanted to protest but decided that it was better to let her father ramble, she could get a shower and dinner quicker that way.

Her father took a sudden lunge towards her while she remembered his past words, though it was short, playful, Integra reacted with the same quick jump back as if it were a real threat, because her father had been pounded into her head that any move by an opponent should be viewed as such.

She remembered on her first day of training, when she asked her father why she needed to learn sword fighting at all, considering guns made them irrelevant in combat. Back then her father had stopped dying his hair, but did so with his mustache.

"Not every opponent you will face uses modern weapons." was the reply, "and a blade can kill what guns can not." She didn't understand what he meant back then either, and still did not but the training had become a normal part of her daily education that she no longer questioned it.

Integra lunged at her father, their blades touched momentarily before the older man jumped back, surprisingly agile for someone his age Integra frowned and lunged again but this time her father countered and she was forced to moved back and quick hopping steps. Her father smirked and flicked his blade moving her's but she didn't react to his mocking this time and with a smile of her own stuck the blade hard, moved it aside and lept for the kill.

"What are you doing?" the accented voice of Enrico Maxwell cut into Integra's concentration. Integra blinked and the memory of her father was no more, the mansion ball room was once again the room of the monastery, the shadows dancing on the walls in tune to the crackle of the large fire in the fireplace. The weapon in her hand was no longer a blade, but a broken broom stick. Reaching into her pocket Integra fished out her glasses and carefully put them on before facing the Catholic who stood in the doorway, his arms full of firewood.

"I was bored and decided to entertain myself with swordplay." she explained.

Hearing this Maxwell frowned, "That is unwise, my temporary bandages may break and you will bleed out to death."

Integra raised a brow, "I think that is a little over dramatic, you did a fine job bandaging me up."

Enrico glanced at the wrappings over Integra's chest and nodded, "Yes but still you should be careful. Also, where is your shirt?"

"Blouse." Integra corrected going to the cot and grabbing the sweat covered garment. "It bothered me so I took it off." She said sitting and crossing her legs. "Now are you going to get more firewood for us?"

Maxwell frowned and shook his head. "Mi tratti come tuo servo. . . " he said to himself as he moved to the dropped the wood near the fireplace.

"Non adulare te stesso." Integra replied with a giggle causing the Italian to spin around and glare at her, "Don't." he said with a accusatory point of his finger, "Don't use my language against me."

Integra cocked a brow at this before shaking her head, "I apologize oh great inventor of Italian." she said before smirking, "Maybe you prefer I use Latin instead?"

"No." Maxwell snapped, "Your Italian accent is bad enough, I might die laughing if you speak Latin."

"Because you know how proper Latin sounded no doubt." the English woman said, sarcasm lacing her word.

"Yes, I do." Enrico replied, either not understanding, or not caring about what she meant. He took a deep breath before wiping his hands on the seat of his pants and went to sit on the cot. As he leaned back against the wall he sighed feeling the warmth of the fire before them, watching the dancing shadows. "You have a . . what's the word...cute laugh."

He suddenly said a little slowly. "You should do it more often."

Glancing at him Integra gave him a look, "What laugh?" she asked wondering if he was going mad.

Enrico smiled slightly, "Your little laugh, from a moment ago." he said with a nod. "you should do it more often."

Integra's eyes narrowed as she stared at the Italian and contemplated throwing something at him, but then she paused as another thought entered her mind.

Did he just come onto me? She frowned and turned away, though as she worked she continuously glanced in his direction. No no, it was just a compliment. Doesn't mean anything. . . or did it?

Suddenly a shocking realization hit her. I don't know what it means. In fact, if she was entirely honest with herself she never had anyone of the opposite sex complement her for anything other than her work. Boys They are called boys not the opposite sex. Now she realized that she hadn't even had a normal conversation with a boy since she had visited the home of her father's friend, but by now she didn't even remember his name. Good word, I have lived in a covenant my whole life. Other than her soldiers, the Convention of Twelve, and Alucard the only casual conversation she had with a man was with Walter, and he was old enough to be her father. So shielded had her life been, and now after being complemented she didn't even have a childhood fling to use as experience.

She pursed her lips as she thought this over. I should say something nice back. It's a normal things to do. She looked down at the floor and bit her forefinger thinking, But what in the world can I say. . .

While she thought this over Enrico reached under his vest and pulled out a small pocket Bible. It had the cracked cover and dogeared pages of constant use, and now he stretched out on the cot and began to read silently to himself.

Frowning to herself Integra watched him read from the corner of her eyes before suddenly speaking.

"Thank you."

"What?" Enrico asked, not looking at her.

"The compliment, thank you. You are very talented."

Now Enrico did look at her, looking just as confused as Integra had been when he first spoke, "In what sense?" he asked carefully.

"With your hands."

"My hands?"

"Yes you have very talented hands."

Staring at her now, bemused Enrico glanced looked at his hands, "I honestly do not know what that means." he said as Integra's cheeks burned red.

"I mean that you have talented hands, when you bandaged me." she explained haltingly. "Yes."

Enrico furrowed his brow before it gave way to an Italian swagger. "Oh, so you mean you liked how I touched you."

"Yes." Integra nodded, before shaking her head, "Wait that sounds dirty. I mean the way you touched me was very. . . honorable and . . . gentleman like."

Enrico sighed, "I hope you didn't imagine that I would touched you in another way. . ." he muttered as he brushed his hands off on his pants.

Integra groaned and buried her faced in her hands, "I am trying to compliment you." she said, her voice muffled. "It is harder than I thought."

"Well we don't call you the Ice Queen for nothing." Enrico chuckled and sat on the cot next to Integra's

Looking up at him she looked hurt, which surprised Enrico. "

"Do you really call me that?" she asked quietly.

Enrico nodded slowly bracing for her to slap him, or verbally jab him but to his surprise she only groaned again and buried her face in her hands once again.

Staring at the woman Enrico found himself confused for the first time since meeting her, never had she reacted with this emotion, usually just anger or contempt. Now she seemed almost. . . sad?

"Hey it is not so bad." he said with a nervous chuckle. "There are many worse names we could call you."

"Like what?" Integra asked, not looking up at him.

"Well. . . um, the English Shrew comes to mind."

"Oh how delightful." she muttered before leaning back against the wall with a heavy sigh, "The point is that I can not even compliment another person."

"Oh it can not be that bad. . . don't you compliment your friends?"

"I don't have any friends."

Closing his Bible Maxwell swung his legs to sit up, "That can't be true, what about your friends from childhood? I keep in touch with all my friends from the orphanage for example."

Chuckling Integra shook her head, "I wish I could say I had friends as a child but that would be a lie."

For once Maxwells surprise was truly of genuine concern rather than for condescending reasons, "You mean you had no friends as a child? How can that be?"

Integra sighed, "Well, my father was so paranoid that something would happen to me he never let me far from his watch, or the eye of a security guard. I lived in a bubble of safety and one tends to become a loner in such an environment. He was correct in doing so of course, me being the only heir to his position which he had, and when he died I had a job to do. No time to play then." she sighed.

"I have to say I am truly sorry for you. That sounds like a horrific childhood."

Integra shrugged, "It's the only one I knew and it never bothered me only now hit me that I have communication problems at least in casual conversation."

"But you are so sharp tongued, so easily to rip my pride to shreds, surely that came from friendly banter."

"No, that came from books of great minds, and my female instinct." Integra said with a little smirk.

Enrico frowned, "Still, it is not write that you have lived such a lonely life and despite my total disregard for you I think we can at least do something together to pass the time."

Giving Maxwell a hooded look Integra shook her head, "You never change, but since what you say is true I think I have a perfect idea."

"And what is this perfect idea?"

Integra chuckled, "Oh just one of the most British games imaginable. Have you ever heard of Battleship?"