It was all really rather a mess.

The Queen shook her head and sat back, sighing. If only the public assumption that she was a mere figurehead monarch were true. Life would be much easier if all she had to do was wave out of windows.

She looked over the report again, wincing. Nine knights dead, three more seriously injured, two more in jail, Integra Hellsing straight jacketed and bound with silver chains awaiting a trial, conspiracies and secret armies bursting out of every seam in the covert order of the round table. This was like the Judas incident over again but worse. Much worse.

So many decisions. Who would she replace the knights with? None of them would ever resume office again. Even the few exonerated of direct guilt could never be entirely trusted again. And then there was Integra. What to do with her? Her position was unique. She had killed (indeed, in some cases more like eaten) at least nine of the highest officers in the realm (Sir Galsworthy was still touch and go), yet at the same time had stopped and uncovered what amounted to high treason against the crown and the British establishment. Ordinarily, the measures taken would be justifiable, death was too good for traitors…

She looked over the medical reports again. "Cause of Death: Massive trauma to the arteries of the neck coupled with massive blood loss".

The question was, could she ever be trusted again? Was the beast out now forever, or could it still be contained. And who did she have to advise her? Her chief expert on the undead was the one in the armour-plated dungeon in the secret catacombs below the tower.

She sighed and shakily removed her reading glasses, pinching her nose as she sank back into her lushly upholstered chair. This was all too much for a woman of her age…

It was Seras who had burst in first, with Alucard less than half a minute behind. The room had been so soaked in blood that she had taken a second to suppress her instincts before assessing the situation. Integra had her teeth sunk into the neck of one of the knights, who was sprawled on his back across the central conference table. She looked like a zombie. She was riddled with bullets and covered in blood, both her own and others that had either sprayed over here or poured from her own wounds even as she had drunk it. She was in the grip of berserk madness, eyes glazed and steeped in shadow. The room was loud with screams. One man without an arm was propped against a blood-smeared window screaming, others were more intact, or even uninjured. One had even made it out the door as Seras opened it, sprinting down the corridor as if pursued by the hounds of hell, before Hellsing gaurds caught him. They had not even known anything was amiss in the soundproofed armoured room.

She knew what had happened. She had felt Integra's anger, and instantly known something was amiss when the first bullet entered her. She had disappeared from the side of the mission team with little more than a terse notice that she "had to be back at the mansion" Dissolving as bats into the night air and tearing blindly across the sky without thought of any secrecy regulations.

Lunging across the floor, she had grabbed her off the already drained corpse and pinned her down to the table. It took every ounce of strength and will she had. Integra's veins were saturated with fresh blood. Her flesh was on fire, flushed with heat and life, and even with all her wounds she was incredibly strong, even by supernatural standards. Seras was crying out for the gaurds even as she pinned her thrashing limbs to the table. They rushed the room two by two, guns at their shoulders. Anyone else might have been shocked at the sight of devilish slaughter presented within, but not Hellsing officers. The situation was assessed immediately. Some men rushed to train their weapons on Integra, others to contain and bring medical aid to the remaining knights. Two withdrew their pistols, laden with blessed silver, and began shooting the corpses that had been feasted upon. Some twitched or gave slight gasps, indicating that the ghoul-transformation process had already begun.

"Essence of garlic!" Screamed Seras, "We need to subdue her!"

A gloved hand holding a syringe was suddenly at Integra's held upper arm. The needle went in and the fluid was shot into her. Suddenly the arm went limp, then quickly the rest of her body subsided as she was sent numb. The traditional housewife's remedy was powerless against all but the weakest of vampires and ghouls in any natural form, but the essences of garlic flowers injected straight into the vampires bloodstream had the power to produce extreme lethargy, bordering on paralysis. Seras saw another drop of blood running down the pale, relaxed face and, with shock, realised she was crying.

This court was seldom used. It shouldn't even have really existed anymore, but here it was. A small, snug room, oak panelled, with a pattern of a star inlaid in delicate tile on the centre of the floor, naming this place: The Star Chamber. The Highest court in the land, in past ages a byword for royal corruption, where King James Stuart had tried his opponents on false claims, and where his son Charles had ruled the country after he abolished parliament. Supposedly torn down by the Lord Protector, the court had been resurrected in secret after the reformation, with an authority equivalent to the crown court in the granting of death sentences, and used for centuries to try the countries secret enemies: spies, papists, wizards, and now, a vampire. It had last been opened for the Judas, and now it sat in judgement on the one he had betrayed.

She was lead in straight-jacketed, bound with silver coated chromium chains and silver buckled straps, muzzled like a movie serial killer. Eight soldiers surrounded her in perfect step at a distance of two metres, guns full of blessed mercury bullets trained for any movement. They lead her to a chair that stood in the centre of the star. She obeyed them calmly, allowing herself to be chained and strapped in before the soldiers slowly withdrew, guns always trained. When they were off the central floor a measure of protection installed in the seventeenth century started up. With a low whine the edges of the star blazed in a bright blue pentagram, random patterns at the edges of tiles suddenly becoming arcane characters. Tetra. Gram. Maton. The name of God, A classic warding charm. The tension on Integra's face was visible as the arcane power of white magic locked her in place.

The sole judge, the Queen herself, sat half shadowed on a high dais. There was no Jury, though there was an executioner, should he be needed.

"Integra Hellsing," the Queen began "You are guilty of crimes against the state, with certain mitigating circumstances. This court does not decide guilt. This court decides upon degrees of punishment. Before judgement is passed upon you, you may make any pleas for mercy that you may wish."

Integra drew herself up to look at the Queens blurred outline. She had not been allowed glasses.

"I have nothing to say. I am entirely responsible for what I did. I bow down to the judgement of your Majesty in the tradition of aristocratic rule."

The Queen smiled, imperceptibly, and cleared her throat before continuing.

"This is a very difficult position you put me in Integra. I have had so many factors to weigh up. Your past record, the justifiability of your crimes, if not your methods, the politics…I have not slept easy this past week, Integra. Should you die, or should you live? That has been by dilemma, I will not lie. Normally I would have been forced to have you 'put down' as it were, but I feel that this would not be a correct course. You have served me faithfully for almost thirty years now Integra: unstinting and unturnable, against everything that this world and the next could throw at you. You have passed through death itself for me, turned aside from the certain hope of Salvation for the good of Queen and country. That is not a sacrifice to be taken lightly Integra. So here is what I have decide to do."

The Queen paused. The silence was a tangible thing. Only Integra and the Queen and the gaurds were hear. No recording secretary, no clerks of court. No clack of recording devices, no scratching of pens.

"You are to both die and not die, Integra" The Queen continued "As of this day forward, official documentation shall reflect reality, for once. Integra Hellsing is now, officially dead. With the tragic passing of your Husband, Arthur Hellsing is the sole beneficiary of your estate and the heir to the title. He is now Sir Arthur Hellsing the second, a knight of the most ancient order of the Round Table. You are no one, nameless."

Integra hung her head, looking solemn. Her title...her position…

"But that is not the end of your service, nameless one. Never think that. Where you were once the master, you now return as the servant. Under what name shall you labour away your eternal existence for the crown?"

Integra looked up. Her eyes were surprisingly strong, defiant almost, and proud. Always proud.

"Laura."

"And for a surname?"

Then Integra did the most amazing thing. She smiled. "Will 'Harker' be acceptable, your Majesty?"

The queen smiled too.

"Harker will be most acceptable, Integra. Most acceptable indeed."