Antonio impatiently drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the lights to change, and told himself for the umpteenth time that he was more excited than nervous for this unexpected promotion. But it was well-deserved - he'd officially been a worker of the Guild for twelve years now, he'd trained and studied so hard all this time and at only twenty-six was already far more knowledgeable than most Monitors. Indeed, he'd studied so much on the side that he could even be an Archiver if he wanted instead of a field operative, if not for his gift being wasted on a desk job. He wasn't a man for a desk job, anyway.

The green light almost startled him as he'd all but spaced out and he took a deep breath, throwing a quick glance in the rear-view mirror. But the street was empty in this early hour of morning, with the same eerie air as the rest of the little town as he'd passed through it.

He was less happy with having to relocate since it was the first time he'd ever left 'home' to move for work somewhere else for an indefinite period, but this was a big deal; he'd do good to keep it in mind, it was only right that he would now finally be assigned to work with a Medium. The Mediums were the most precious workers the Guild had and there weren't many of them as it was, so there was quite a big responsibility on his shoulders to be entrusted with taking care of one.

He hadn't seen much of this new town on the way, shrouded as it was in the thick fog creeping over from the swamps nearby, but for the moment he was glad to leave behind its dreary, colorless atmosphere as he passed through a pair of tall iron gates at the foot of a hill and went up a well-kept driveway into a pine forest. Here, the trees held a deep shade, but the air was much fresher for a change, rich with scents of earth and vegetation, a place the wolf in him felt as homely and welcoming.

However, the mansion near the top of the hill, which was said to have belonged to a former Elder's family back in the day, was clearly neither. The building was large but austere-looking, lacking any unnecessary decoration, with sharp roofs and stern, somber grey facades, looming in the back of a square gravel-covered courtyard. Antonio had visited other Guild branches before, but instantly thought that he had yet to see a place as gloomy and foreboding as this one.

He parked next to the other two cars on one side, wondering who else from the new staff has arrived already.

Above the front entrance of the building there was a grey plaque with gothic lettering, sticking out from the plainness of everything else, and, bag slung over his shoulder, Antonio couldn't help but stop to stare at it.

"And so in this twilight and evening of the world, when sin is flourishing on every side and in every place, when charity is growing cold, the evil of witches and their iniquities superabound - Malleus Maleficarum"

He fought back a shudder, not quite sure what to make of those words and of why they were there. The Guild was not a religious organization, and moreover it had always gathered together plenty of people whose gifts would have warranted them a sure death sentence in the times of the witch trials. And yet, maybe they were not as fundamentally different as one may have thought, and the quote endured there as a warning.

He was again relieved that he wasn't the first staff member to set foot in this mildly sinister house when the door opened and a young man with choppy blond hair and strong eyebrows came out, a steamy mug in his hand.

"Makes you feel all better about this place already, yeah? Nothing like a whiff of the Inquisition, but I heard the old chap was a fan," he said in a thick British accent, noticing what Antonio was looking at as he extended his free hand. "Hello and welcome, I'm Arthur Kirkland, Archiver."

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," the newcomer mustered with a tentative smile, eyes trailing to the profuse darkness beyond the door. "I'm-"

"You're the Monitor," the other stated in acknowledgement. "A pleasure to meet you. Come in, I'll show you to your room first and then I'll take you on a little tour."

The dark foyer spread into some narrow hallways and a wide but simple staircase in the middle, bare rough stone flooring and tall wooden wainscoting from another century everywhere, and barely any light bulbs.

"I'm sorry, for now only the Coordinator and the Medium have arrived aside from the two of us, and it's only because we already have a case to deal with. We didn't get to organize much, there's no permanent maintenance staff yet, it's a bit of a mess," Arthur explained, leading the way. "So, this is where you'll be staying, for now you can let me know if you need anything and I'll take care of it."

Antonio nodded, a bit overwhelmed. His assigned bedroom was hardly any cozier than what he'd seen on the way there, with simple old furniture and squeaky floorboards covered by a wool rug of nondescript color. He momentarily deposited his bag and jacket on the bed, and followed the Archiver to the kitchen, figuring he could use at least some strong coffee right about now.

"Right, there's coffee, tea and some breakfast too if you'd like, but nothing fancy. Apparently the locals think that this house is haunted, so they don't deliver," the blond offered with a shrug. "I'm afraid we only have toast and eggs…"

"Just coffee's fine," Antonio replied with a smile, glancing about as he sat down at the long wooden table occupying the center of the room. "It's not really haunted though, is it?" he joked, just to ease the load of 'good' news.

The Archiver shook his head, grinning in turn and walking up to pick a cup and fill it. "I hope not, but well, arguably the house does look rather sinister. At any rate, our rooms look just as bad as yours. We also don't have a stable internet connection yet, apparently the only good things about this place are the armory and the basement, there's a Water-of-Lethe basin there, presumably more than a hundred years old. So basically, we can access lost memories and past lives but not Google, how cool is that?" he observed with a hint of humor. "Or at least the Medium can, anyway."

Antonio took a grateful sip of the freshly-made brew and felt a little warmer. Also, he had quite a few questions, but the air of mystery the issue had been treated with until now made him rather cautious.

"So, the Medium," he began, "I've heard he's very talented?"

Arthur nodded. "Indeed. He can go into a light trance even with a mere intoxicant, no need for the whole ceremony. That's to say, if you have any dirty secrets or want to keep the privacy of your thoughts, maybe not let him get drunk and touch you or any of your personal belongings."

He must be quite powerful, then. Antonio wasn't even aware that a Medium could do that in the first place (it sounded mildly scary) and it occurred to him that maybe the Elders should have given him the opportunity to practice a little with an average Medium instead of making him take the plunge headfirst like this. The lack of any practical experience only made him more anxious about the whole thing.

And then there was also the sensitive topic.

"And... I was also told that he's a repentant and that I had better keep a close eye on him. What did he do, anyway?"

"I don't know. I have his file for you but to be honest I didn't want to look." Arthur frowned slightly, and took a long sip of his tea. "My younger sister is a repentant too, and I only joined the Guild to make things easier for her. She did dabble into some black magic back in the day, but she was only thirteen then. And all she ever did was to scare off a couple of pricks, no one got hurt so I don't care who hears this, but I do think the punishment she received was excessive. After all, there's no mystery as to how the Guild deals with the truly dangerous ones."

Antonio sighed. He was no stranger to the fact that the Guild could be very cruel; he'd only been lucky not to be stigmatized as a repentant himself because of his family's tragedy and because a werewolf bite wasn't anything a ten-year old boy could have prevented, it wasn't his choice in any way. That and the fact that he'd been very quick to learn how to control his transformations and make his newly acquired power useful to them.

"Right," said the Englishman, "I need to make a couple of phone calls now, but after that I'll show you around some more and I'll take you to meet the others."

Left to his own devices, Antonio leaned on his elbows and took another large sip of his coffee, relishing the hot, strong drink as he glanced out the narrow window to the thicket of pine trees outside. Soon, there would be a full moon and he'd have to go out, transform and hunt, and the forest stretching beyond the house looked like a good place to roam and run free, if only for a little bit. Still, before he could think of any leisure, he'd have to take a look at the Medium's file and get acquainted with the man he was supposed to work with and protect from now on.

The armory was a large, spacious hall with tall windows, but just like the rest of the mansion, it wasn't particularly bright. The dark wooden wainscoting of the walls absorbed most of the light and gave off a distinctive impression of a stale place, lacking air.

"So... what do you think?"

Lovino advanced slowly towards the middle of the room, hands stuffed inside the pockets of his hoodie, mouth set into a thin line and brows furrowed. He was trying not to scowl fully and keep his ill humor at bay, but it was no easy feat, not this early in the morning. He'd tossed and turned all night, barely getting any shut-eye.

"I don't know, the whole place just looks so grim. Are we trying to make a point or something?" he said quietly and as benign as he could, eyes trailing over the weapons panels on display all around. Unlike the rest of the mansion, the weaponry on display was pompous and either over-decorated or over-technical, like it belonged in a museum, and he could hardly spot any practical items in the pile of crap.

"The Guild has a long history and we have a right to be proud of it," the blond Frenchman stated, uncrossing his arms and peeling away from the window with a light smile. "This mansion belonged to one of the past Elders and this," he gestured towards the weapons, "I do admit it's mostly to impress the young apprentices and give them that feeling, you know?"

Lovino nodded, not looking at him and biting back the jab on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he walked up to one of the panels, tilting his head pensively as he examined its content. He reckoned that the Coordinator was trying to appear benign too, having traded his sharp suit for a casual white shirt and slacks, and his hair, which was usually neatly tied up in a bun at the back of his neck was now in a loose ponytail.

"How are you feeling? You look tired."

Lovino bit his lip. "I think-... I should see a Doctor. My back hurts, and there's this constant ache in my joints lately. I don't know, I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Then maybe we shouldn't spar today, what do you think? Anyway, I'll have to man the infirmary as well until we get a Doctor appointed to us, so we'll have a look and I'll give you some sleeping pills later."

But Lovino wanted to spar and the skirting questions as well as the Coordinator's soft tone only grated on his nerves, making him want to let off more steam. He knew Francis Bonnefoy was only trying to be friendly, as much as a regular Guild worker could be towards a repentant they were supposed to supervise, but it didn't do much good.

"How's your memory lately? Did you remember anything from before?"

"Nope, nothing."

He finally looked at Francis and shrugged with a wry smile. "You'd think that someone who can see others' memories would be able to sort their own shit, but turns out it's not true at all. Not for me, anyway. I can't see into this life and I can't see into my past lives either. It's like... that door is closed and it just won't budge."

A pair of long, guarded knives was hung amidst a selection of larger blades, and Lovino picked one of them to inspect it, carefully thumbing the blade. It was hardly sharp but he liked the knife, at least the design was cool if nothing else.

"I think these will do, they're safe enough."

"Maybe you don't want to remember."

Maybe you don't want to repent, either, he suspected was what the real message was. Lovino slipped his fingers under the guard and plucked the other knife as well, holding the blade against the light. But he was here, he was doing what he was told to do, so what more did they want?

"The Elders could just decide to tell me what happened in the past."

Francis sighed. "The Elders can't tell you what happened before you became part of the Guild, no one really knows that. So, unless you remember yourself, the first nineteen years of your life will remain lost."

Right. Lovino was sure that was their problem and not that he'd forgotten his punishment, along with the things he was supposed to be repenting for.

"Come on, these knives are blunt," he prompted, giving the weapons a simultaneous spin, just to feel their balance. They weren't great, but he thought that he could put up a decent fight with them.

The Coordinator finally conceded and chose a long, thin rapier in turn, without thinking too much. It must have been his weapon of choice, Lovino thought - light, elegant and deadly. Also, he noticed that there was no safeguard on the tip, so it wasn't exactly a practice weapon. Maybe he'd made a bad choice with the blunt knives, since it seemed that the Coordinator wasn't deserving of so much courtesy after all.

"I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of the new staff, and I hope we'll at least get another Archiver," Francis said, shaking some hair off his face as he pulled the blade to a perfect vertical, tip upwards, and took position. "But your new Monitor should be arriving today. He's unusually strong and resilient, so you won't have to worry about protecting yourself on your next assignment." He leaned forward, one knee bent slightly.

"Oh, I'm not worried," Lovino replied, with a raise of eyebrows and not planning to make it easy for him. "Come at me."

Francis leaped forward, graciously, rapier weighed in his hand as he sought a direct blow, but failed. Lovino thwarted his weapon with one knife and slipped to the side, out of his reach. He twisted one of the knives and lunged aggressively with the other, blades clashing.

"My last Monitor couldn't tell the difference between a regular goat and a lamia, and nearly got both of us killed, so I hope this one isn't all muscle and no brain. If I win, can I keep these?"

It was a rhetorical question and the Coordinator just gave a light snort in reply, shaking his head. Of course he couldn't.

"The basement is not that great and I'm afraid you'll get to see it soon enough," Arthur said, showing the Monitor to the upper floor, which hosted the library and the armory. "But the weapons and practice room you might actually like, I think. It's traditional, so to speak."

He opened some heavy doors and beyond them the same dark mahogany shades met the eye, drowning the otherwise vast space, and gleams of steel on the walls here and there. But Antonio's attention was instantly captured by the two people he spotted sparring in the middle, recognizing one of them straight away. He'd met Francis Bonnefoy several times before (and was instantly glad to see him here); the other one could only be the Medium.

Antonio was surprised, because he'd never heard of and even less seen Mediums using any weapons before, but the guy actually had skills. He had a light, fine-boned build and was rather short, but he moved swiftly and had good technique. The rapier repeatedly failed to touch him, even if the Frenchman obviously wasn't cutting him any slack, at least until he was distracted by their arrival and missed his next defense move. Francis then took advantage and made a sudden push to trip him with one leg, sending him to the floor on his rump.

"Oh come on, you cheating frog!" Arthur chastised out loud, rolling his eyes.

The blond had turned sharply at that, but his scowl melted into a wide smile upon spotting the newcomer and he held up his rapier, shaking some loose strands off his face. "Antonio, welcome!" he beamed, while the Medium behind him collected himself from the ground panting, having discarded his blades, and hardly looked up.

His name was Lovino Levante, and while Antonio couldn't tell if he was just sulking because he'd lost or did indeed have an unfriendly disposition, he experienced an odd sense of familiarity upon laying eyes on the man that was to be his future charge.