A/N: *runs up panting*

Guys! Guys! I am *huff* in the middle of correcting all of the incorrect titles *huff* I had placed previously. I am officially going back line-by-line and making sure that everyone, to my knowledge, has the correct titles. I know you can 'find' a word and 'replace' it with the correct one in Microsoft Word, but the changes somehow DIDN'T transfer over when I uploaded everything back up into Doc Manager. Lurv technology sometimes. And I shit you not the find in Doc Manager does nothing.

Once again, to further clarify:

The regent-governor: Lord
Ladislaus: Lord
Integra: Lady
Seras: Lady
Pip: Sir (because he's only a knight)
Vlad: Sir/Lord, and depending on how generous the Hungarians are feeling, he's either. Usually, they only wish to call him "Sir", but he is, by birthright, a Lord. (I partially don't want to call him Lord Vlad because that would make me feel forced to call him by his complete and formal title: Lord Vladislaus III, and we already have two Lord Ulrich's and two Ladislaus's (one a Prince and the other a Lord). I don't want to have two Lords (one Vladislav and the other Vladislaus) and pardon my Saxon but fuuuuck that's a swirling vortex of entropy my mind does NOT wish to enter, and I've already messed it up once. I'm just keepin' it shortened to Sir Vlad. All those with an issue, bite me. No, wait. Bite Vlad. That would be more fun, amirite?)
Walter: …Walter.
Anderson: Lord
Vladislav II: Lord

Prince Ladislaus is the one being held hostage, not Ladislaus Hunyadi, whom all you know. I love how they loved to use the same names over and over again. Having fun with the two Lord Ulrich characters. Yeah, that's loads of hilarity. You should come join me.

I tried to go back and rewrite Lord blah blah and Lady blah blah more often (to get you guys used to me using it) in previous chapters...Because that's totally how we read: backwards.

I won't address them by their full titles all the time, because, well, this isn't an invite from the Queen of England. I don't have to continuously type Lord Anderson or Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of oh-my-god-I'm-getting-wrist-cramps, because I know after writing it down numerous times you will already be familiar with his/her rightful title. I'm trying just to say their FULL titles when characters are dialoguing back and forth, as it would be proper.

Disclaimer: I do NOT, in any way, own Hellsing or the characters in it. It is owned by Kohta Hirano, Dark Horse Manga, and any other business or people who assisted in creating these fascinating characters!

.•*´¨`*•.

The End of the Beginning

Pip jogged to keep up with Vlad's quickening pace. The Wallachian had trail-blazed a path for himself, Pip, and Costel, as they weaved in and out of the streets downtown. Shaking off the last of a hangover, Pip focused his discrete grip on Costel's arm as they walked in the wake of Vlad's pathway. People sensed that the group traveled with a great sense of purpose and steered out of the way, consciously or not. The market was just beginning to bustle with work as dawn approached, the sun peeking in the form of misty morning rays of light through the thick foliage of the tree line in the far distance. It could not have been a more beautiful sight with freshly fallen snow, but for the fact that people had to first dig themselves out of the snow and pave a pathway along the streets for business to even begin. Nevertheless, villagers faced their toil with cheerful alacrity as the morning started to wake.

"Sir," Pip shook his head again, rubbing sleep off of his eyes, "Why exactly are we-"

Vlad turned his head, though he made no effort to slow his break-neck pace, "We are running late!"

Pip swallowed the remainder of his question and shrugged to Costel, whom he'd met only moments before. Costel refused to make eye contact, which forced a sliver of suspicion to cut across Pip's conscience. It was strange that Vlad woke him halfway into the night, but what Pip was trying to wrap his head around was why they were dragging the owner of a local tavern they had frequented all the way back to the castle. And for what were they late? The day to even begin? Pip still felt cheated out of a good night's rest.

It wasn't until they were nearly upon the main gate that Costel began to pull back on Pip's grip.

"If you show my face, if people recognize me, if something happens, then I could be beheaded."

Vlad turned his head slightly in recognition that he had heard what the old man said behind, "You will be unharmed. All I ask is for you to take a good look-that's it."

Pip arched an eyebrow. "Why would you want him to-"

"For identification," Vlad interrupted again, this time carving his path through the last of the villagers and onto the castle grounds.

The group peeled off to the side of the castle wall and surreptitiously made their way to the edge of the drawbridge, so as to avoid the massive army entrenched out in front. Servants and guards from within the castle were already walking in and out of the grounds to fetch any last things, making two armed men and an older man in cloth look rather inconspicuous.

Vlad nestled them off to the side but remaining on the edge of a small grassy knoll that placed them high enough to see everyone. Pip could see the regent, his wife, Lord Anderson, and Seras talking to both Lord Ulrich of Eczing and Lord Ulrich, Princely Count of Celje. The Lords' combined army was about to break off from this post and head to Austria to save Prince Ladislaus, constituting a 'farewell' for good luck and fortune along the road, and, of course, a safe trip home.

Vlad nodded for Pip to release Costel and pointed to where the regent and his court were standing.

"Sir, what is going on?" Pip could not refrain anymore.

Costel stood between them, though he seemed more focused on identifying someone in the distance than overhearing anything on which Pip needed clarification.

Vlad waved another man over from the crowd, though this man did not blend in as easily. Robed in heavy wools, a dark-colored cowl, and black beady eyes that nervously shifted from person to person, Pip could recognized him as the castle apothecary. Vlad pointed to the crowd, but more specifically, to where the regent and his court stood.

"Sir," Pip pressed, "What the f-"

Vlad shushed him with his gauntlet, "We wait."

The knight sighed into a pout as he crossed his arms and impatiently shifted from foot to foot. He focused, instead, on the faceless soldiers of the army folding their small tents and strapping things to their horses, readying the caravans of food and supplies they would need for the journey, as well as stocking up on anything the castle could spare to provide them. It was a controlled chaos: people rushed around, but they had orders to carry out and a purpose. There were jobs to do and work to be done before everyone was corralled into the long march ahead.

It almost made Pip long to be in a band of brothers, or a team of people to go out and seek glory for their country. His nose crinkled. Well, maybe he didn't want to do it for his country. Maybe just for himself. Glory and riches and wealth for himself. That should do.

"Yes," Costel nodded solemnly, "Yes, that's him."

The apothecary also began to nod, "That one. That one there."

Pip followed their gazes to what he thought could be one of the Lord Ulrich's, though the distance the group was from the target impaired his vision.

Vlad took hold of both of their shoulders in a vice grip and bent down to whisper in between them, "Check. Again."

Both men withered away from his tight grip and looked back. When they nodded with certainty and turned to Vlad, his demeanor had contracted. His shoulders sagged, his face drooped, and his stance confined, as if he hated the presence of every person in contact around him.

"This…" Vlad ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to the army as they began to form ranks, "This could mean civil war."

Pip jerked forward and almost slammed his hand onto Vlad, "What?!"

"I promise you, Sir, Lord Ulrich of Celje is the man whom I lent the book to for a week or so," the apothecary stated.

Costel chimed in, "And I saw both men in my tavern conspiring in hushed whispers over the long table in the back for hours."

As if noting Pip's presence for the first time, Vlad turned around and removed his hand from his mouth, "The regent will not believe me…but he may believe you."

Pip stifled a roar as he asked one last time, this time grasping Vlad's shoulders and looking directly into his eyes, "Sir. What. Is. Going. On."

"Knight, you must take Costel to a guest room in the castle and assure that a guard is posted outside of his door at all times. Zargo," Vlad called; the apothecary walked up to him, "You will wait until Sir Pip summons you to the regent. I want both of you to inform our leader of what you've seen."

Costel frowned, "If we are planning to hang both Lords, then we might wish to hurry. They are both saddling their horses as we speak and are about to embark on a much glorified journey to save Prince Ladislaus."

"He's right. It might be easier to take them down now than when they return as honored heroes," Zargo pointed out.

"No!" Vlad herded the group closer and closer to the drawbridge, "We cannot risk such a scene, and not when the Prince truly does need saving. If we affront the Lords now, and are successful in charging them with treason, the consequences and repercussions of it will wrack the Kingdom into shambles. We need their army to succeed, we need the true king on the throne, we need them to come back and assist with the Ottomans when they emerge triumphant, but most of all, we need stability."

"In the hands of murderers?" Pip caught on, "Sir, I'm all for divide and conquer, but not when it's my own damn side. We need their forces here. If we can depose them and place the regent in charge of this massive force, then that could give us the advantage in numbers that we need in order to slay the Ottoman Army. Let's do this now!"

Despairing and torn between doing both, Vlad looked from one man to the next. Both sides had such valid points that their truth nearly rang in his ears. Pip's armed hand itched to draw his sword, especially if it meant cutting down the tyrants who nearly murdered Seras. Vlad noticed and shook his head gravely.

"No. Sometimes, one must do what is smart, not what is right. Taking the Lords' army and leaving them in disgrace is powerful, but so would be the turmoil that arose from this action. Letting Lord Ulrich of Eczying and Lord Ulrich of Celje retrieve the Prince would save thousands more than compared to losing thousands from deposing them right now. By revealing they are traitors, we self-inflict a horrible gash onto the Kingdom, one that it will not be able to patch quickly enough to face the oncoming barrage of Ottoman hits. Hungary will have bled out before She even sees the first battle, for we all will have killed each other in what could likely be a civil war," Vlad concluded, "Should their treachery come to light."

Vlad's two witnesses lowered their heads and agreed quietly. Pip stood, too silently enraged to agree but recognized privately that Vlad was correct.

The Wallachian turned to the knight and tiredly patted his hand on Pip's back, "Come. I do have much to tell you, for when I leave, you will be leading this investigation."

Pip swallowed, "And…when, exactly, do you leave?"

Vlad sighed, forcing a strained smile to split his cracked lips, "Tonight."

.•*´¨`*•.

Seras watched Integra race around their adjoined room as she flung things into her open knapsack. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Seras glanced out the window and to the lowering sun.

"It must be passed noon already," Integra shook her head and hiked up her trousers. Yes, her trousers. She rather liked them. Enough with the feminine dresses, the men had it right. Pants were much better: more leg room, better balance on a horse instead of riding side-saddle in a dress -the nightmare!- and one did not have to pick it up like a skirt in order to move quickly. Ah, the versatility and magnificence of one article of clothing, and Integra wasn't allowed to wear it because doing so would not be 'proper'. To hell with being proper! In order to succeed, one must be efficient, even if it meant casting aside whatever social convention dictated one do.

"You know I will not stop asking until you tell me," Seras folded her arms across her chest.

Integra groaned as she reached for another dress and rolled it up in haste, "I told you. I'm going away for a few months."

"Where?"

"Somewhere where people will not incessantly pester me with stupid questions."

"It is not a stupid question!" Seras objected, rising to her feet and grabbing a corner of Integra's sack of things, "Tell me, or I will wrench this out and everything will spill."

Her older sister sighed, calculating she would not be able to stop Seras in time if she lunged for her, "Alright. I'm going away with Sir Vlad to Wallachia. I'm going as a type of…envoy…to make sure that Lord Vladislav II does father's biding."

Seras let go of the cloth, satisfied, but it led to more questions, "Why wouldn't Lord Vladislav II do what father bid him? He was, after all, placed there by father as an ally."

"Right you are," Integra patronized, "But, you see, the problem is that Lord Vladislav II was placed as Wallachia's ruler after Sir Vlad was chased out." She placed her hand mirror into another sack she had begun filling.

"Ah," Seras nodded, "So you are going as a babysitter to make sure they play nice and do not slaughter one another. Good thing, too, considering I also heard that Lord Vladislav II murdered Sir Vlad's father."

"Indeed. And his elder brother."

Seras rubbed her chin thoughtfully and coiled a string of hair around her finger, "But if father has already agreed to send you with Sir Vlad as an…'envoy'…then how come you are rushing to leave as if it were a secret?"

Integra froze, her back stiffening and her face scrunching in anger, "Look…he…I…"

Seras giggled, "Yes, Miss No-One-Can-Challenge-Me-With-My-Vast-Intellect?"

"Alright, I was on my way to inform father now," Integra explained, though there was exasperation in her tone. Who was her sister to interrogate Integra like this -a part of the constabulary?

"You mean ask permission. I doubt father will let you. That is…unless you…well, never mind," Seras danced around Integra's arms as her older sister lunged for her.

"What? Go on," Integra gritted her teeth, "Let us see if you can match my vast intellect. Challenge me."

Seras shrugged nonchalantly, lowering herself onto her bed and raising her arms up to rest her chin, "The regent will ask you what has caused your compulsion to leave the castle. He will ask, since you will hypothetically be traveling with Sir Vlad, if perhaps you might have…feelings for him."

Integra seethed, trying to relax her fists as they furled the cloth of the neatly placed sacks, "Hypothetically, and in reality, I do not care for Sir Vlad, and he knows it."

"Who? Sir Vlad or father? Because he will ask you, and it might be in your best interests to lie and say you do."

Integra ripped a corner of the cloth of her sack off as she tried to tie it calmly, "To what end? So that I may marry a most disturbing and pompous man?"

Seras shook her head, "You are taking this too personally. I'm just saying that you will have a more solid foundation upon which to convince father if you told him you had feelings for Sir Vlad. If there is no solid foundation, then anything you try to build upon it will collapse -your argument."

Integra threw up her hands, glaring at her gloating younger sister, and walked in silent rage to the door. Closing it with pristine stealth, she groaned again, softly sagging against the wall. Lying to her father that she was in love and wished to marry Vlad in order to travel away with him wouldn't make the regent any happier to give her up than insisting Vlad needed a babysitter to make sure he didn't kill Lord Vladislav II. If anything, her father might just send some bootlicking, brown-nosing, sycophant to watch over Vlad instead of his own daughter.

Groaning out her misfortune, she composed herself and stepped forward with surety down the hall when a rich baritone voice called out to her. Integra gasped in surprise at who it was.

His tall, rigid stance told Integra enough that he had overheard her and Seras's loud conversation. Troubled and vexed beyond compare at what she was wearing, his gaze finally fixed with the ground as a hand came up to massage his wrinkled forehead thoroughly.

"F-father," Integra curtsied, a formality she only deigned to recognize when she wished to get back into his good graces.

His throat worked up and back down at the calling of his name, but he held up his index finger and inhaled a deep breath, "You…you wish to travel with that…man."

It was a statement, not a question; as if Integra should even think about correcting it, anyway.

She nodded solemnly, "Yes, father. How much-"

"I overheard enough to wish to investigate this myself," the regent paced slowly passed her, trying to stifle a spiteful laugh, "All this time I was trying to save the innocence within, and you end up running to trouble anyway."

Integra laughed out a syllable, "Yes, but I am no longer a child. I am a grown woman."

"Yet you insist on wearing a man's clothing. Integra, my patience…" he shook his head and gripped her shoulders softly, diving into her eyes in a desperate search if this was some kind of prank or joke, "Integra, I know that you must be put off by what has happened with Lord Victor, but that does not mean you should cast your lot with Sir Vlad."

"I do not love him, father," Integra stated sharply, "Sir Vlad is my escape out of this place. My true motives are to travel and represent you."

The regent's brows crashed together as his hand worked around his mustache, "A representative? An envoy?"

Integra nodded vehemently, "Yes, father, an envoy. A diplomatic agent. Someone to-"

"Lord Vladislav II is an ally," he said stiffly, "He does not need a woman envoy to know what my orders for him are."

"Yes," Integra agreed, already finding her balance in this civil discourse, "Yes, you are right. But sometimes allies, especially in times of war, need…they need reminders of whom they serve," she lifted his hands from her shoulders, "I have a proposition. You allow me to travel to Wallachia, and I will carry out your word as Law. I will make sure Sir Vlad does your bidding, and without killing Lord Vladislaus II in the process."

Her father shook his head for a moment, his face turning peaked in a pale and sickly color at the thought, "Integra, I cannot allow this. I would sooner throw Lord Anderson into the fray before you, or myself for that matter. You would be heading straight into the front lines. No woman should face what carnage lies ahead."

"No, you need Lord Anderson here," she grabbed his shaking hands and kissed them, "Father, you know my place is not here. You know I will never settle down and become a wife, you know I will never submit to such a life as servitude. You are as sure of this as you are sure that the sky is blue. I cannot change, and neither can the sky."

"Integra," her father whispered as he raised his hands to caress her face, "It is too dangerous."

She wriggled out of his grasp, this time with more hostility than she intended, "Father, if you do not allow me to do this, then you will have forever sent me to eternal damnation."

"What?" his voice raised an octave in disbelief.

Integra paused for a moment to settle the tension, never taking her eyes away from his as she concentrated all of her sincerity, "…You know I am sure-footed. You know I am resourceful. You know I have a silver tongue -something I proudly tell others I inherited from you- and can talk circles around Sir Vlad. You know I will accurately spread your word and smite those who ignore it, and you knowthat Sir Vlad will need someone to calm him down as he takes orders from the man who murdered his father. The time is now, father."

It had come to his attention that Vlad may need someone to accompany him to Wallachia, but he had thought Lord Vladislav II more than capable of protecting his own hide against Vlad. The ruler of Wallachia had guards aplenty to stick to his backside for the whole duration that Vlad was present. But, adeptly, Integra forced him to remember the fact that Vlad was overly resourceful. He had survived the regent's wrath when the leader chased him out before, so who was to say that Vlad wouldn't be able to cheat Death again?

"Lord Vladislav II has guards who will be more than willing to lay down their lives for his to remain alive."

She shook her head, "There is a higher power at work, father, and I am not speaking of God. There is a traitor in our house, and we've yet to identify who it is," Integra continued before he started on about Victor, "And if it was Victor and Lord George and you are so certain, then why haven't their heads rolled? No, you realize that it probably could not have been their doing- that and the fact that Lord Victor's Seneschal, Marius, adamantly defended their joint innocence, before you dismissed him."

The regent fell silent, flinching as she continued to drive home another point he hadn't considered.

Integra cupped her father's cheeks, "You can trust no one else to carry out your orders better than me. You know this. And you need to reassert your power -now more than ever- along the borders where alliances are predictably stretched so thin."

"Why now?" he pulled her into a hug, knowing the act was the only thing he could do to stop her talking, "Why, my love? Why didn't you ask to go with Lord Ulrich of Eczying and Lord Ulrich of Celje to Austria, where it would have been safer? Why with Sir Vlad to the battlefront?"

To this, Integra had no definite answer. She paused to calmly gather her thoughts and search her soul. Any sane woman wishing to prove her intellect would have jumped at the opportunity to wag her silver tongue to save Prince Ladislaus, but she had gravitated toward Death instead. Why? And if 'proper women' stayed at home taking care of their husbands and children, provided comfort, and led normal lives, then what did that make her? Abnormal? Unnatural? As equal a renegade as Vlad? Furthermore, why was she not scared?

Perhaps she didn't want to go into the heartland of Europe because she was drawn to the outskirts that harbored conflict, as was Vlad. Perhaps they both had a fascination with death, combat, and struggle that bordered on obsession. Perhaps they were truly not as different as Integra initially had thought. That was the only truth left.

Lifting her face from his chest, she planted one long kiss onto his cheek, wiping his tear in the process. "I think you know why, father."

The regent exhaled a ragged breath and kissed her one last time, "You are resourceful. The most resourceful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing," he grinned sadly, "I suppose, in a way, I could not have tied you down forever."

She laughed, curtsying, "I love you."

"You will write me every week, free spirit. That's an executive order," he grabbed her, tossing aside formalities, "And don't think I'm sending you alone. Walter will accompany you, along with your ladies-in-waiting. If Lord Vladislaus II or Sir Vlad get any ideas, your ladies will set them straight, if Walter doesn't outright kill them," he sighed, content with his order, "That is the least I can do, short of holding your hand as you leave."

They departed amicably, the regent watching her smiling face, expression almost giddy, as it disappeared quickly behind her chamber door. All there was left to do was pray, and hope that his wife did not notice her absence, though the probability of that flew out the window as fast as the oncoming wrath he was about the experience.

.•*´¨`*•.

End to Part One.

For all of you wishing for more Vlad and Integra scenes, the next 25 chapters (I plan/hope) are going to be focused on their time in Wallachia fighting some Ottomans, while Seras and Pip help the regent come to grips with the fact that Lord Ulrich (titles, titles, titles), and Lord Ulrich (titles, titles, titles) are baaaad men.

Ya hear that, Victor? You might be saved in time.

…Might.

Gah, this chapter felt like giving typing-birth: it took forever, was painful (two words: carpal tunnel), I had to push for around 4 hours (mentally push, not physically...what were you thinking?), but the result is a b-e-a-utiful baby ending to my Part One saga to this.

And I could not have done it without my midwife, , you have been, of late, completely integra(l) to my purpose for writing this. Without brainstorming on this chapter with you, never would I have known it à propos of that time to send Integra off to Wallachia as an envoy.

Thank you. For everything. For your information. For your enthusiasm. For your constant explanations and re-explanations. For your timelines. For your invaluable help.

Love and cupcakes, always.