The air in the reception room chilled. The fireplace still burned red, but the air itself had changed into something else entirely. "[serious]...The truth is, I have a purpose here today beyond tea." Anderson quietly placed the tin of cookies in the center of the table. His large hand withdrew from the tin. The smile was gone. His green eyes, usually narrowed cheerfully, now stared directly at Alucard. Seras stopped her hand holding the cup. (Huh...?) The hand that had been frantically taking notes on the back of a tea coaster froze. She hadn't been able to find her notepad, so she'd started writing on the blank underside of the coaster. *'Second cup Assam → switch to Darjeeling'* *'Meat buns remaining: 14'*. That hand was trembling now. Alucard remained sprawled on the sofa. Long legs crossed, cup held in one hand. His jet-black hair cast flickering shadows in the firelight. "[cold]Ho. Bringing this up in the middle of a tea party—how amusing." "[serious]Within the Vatican, a faction is moving to dismantle Iscariot." Anderson's voice was restrained. Yet each word carried an unnatural weight. "[serious]Their plan is to provoke the Hellsing Organization into opening hostilities. Then they will pin full responsibility on the Organization, using it as decisive proof that Iscariot is unnecessary." Alucard's finger stopped on the rim of his cup. "[cold]In other words, they intend to set us up as the arsonists." "[serious]Precisely. They aim to escalate it into a diplomatic crisis between the Church of England and the Vatican, ultimately freezing Iscariot's budget. That is their objective." Seras scribbled desperately on the coaster. *'Iscariot dismantlement faction'* *'Provoke Hellsing'* *'Responsibility for war...'* Her handwriting grew messier by the second. (Isn't this an incredibly bad situation?!) Alucard slowly set down his cup. The bored expression he'd worn until now was completely gone. The eyes of a true vampire who had lived five hundred years now looked upon something with the gaze of one who had found prey that interested him for the first time. "[cold]Specifically, when do they move?" "[serious]They are already moving. It is highly likely they have detected my entry into England this time as well." At that moment, a gentle voice came from the corner of the room. "[gentle]Shall I prepare Earl Grey for the third cup?" Seras turned. Walter was opening a new tin of tea leaves with elegant hands. The old butler, his white hair neatly combed, his back perfectly straight. His face was utterly unruffled. (Mr. Walter... he's still making tea even after hearing all this...) No, that wasn't it. He was listening. Behind those brown eyes, he was sorting and recording every piece of information. The composure of the man once called the "Angel of Death" was there. Anderson paused for a moment. His large hand unconsciously touched the cookie tin. "[gentle]...Why I am warning you. I must explain that." His green eyes narrowed as if gazing into the distance. "[serious]I grew up in an orphanage in Italy. I never knew my parents' faces. I had nothing to believe in, nothing to protect. I found a place to belong for the first time when I entered the Vatican. But..." His voice dropped slightly lower. "[serious]As I hurt people as a warrior, I lost sight of who I was. Killing in God's name, praying in God's name. Repeating that cycle, my humanity was scraped away." Seras felt her breath catch. (Just like... me.) Becoming a vampire, feeling resistance to drinking blood while obliterating enemies with a massive cannon. A heart that loved peace, and a self that was a monster. Losing sight of who she was in the space between. The only thing that had somehow kept her grounded was— "[gentle]The habit of baking cookies began at that time. Kneading the dough, shaping it, waiting for it to bake. Only that time returned me to being a human being, not a priest." Anderson gently stroked the cookie tin. "[gentle]Alucard, you are my sworn enemy. By all rights, we should be trying to kill each other. But in the midst of our battles, somewhere within you, I felt I glimpsed the same loneliness I carry." Alucard was silent. Five hundred years of solitude. Days so boring he could die. Gaining a sense of connection to modern human society only by buying up all the meat buns. Finding something resembling himself within an enemy—that was a first for him. Wordlessly, Alucard picked up the plate of meat buns. (Huh?) Seras couldn't believe her eyes. Alucard quietly pushed one meat bun in front of Anderson. No words. He simply offered the white, warm thing across the table. Silence. Anderson stared at the meat bun. "[gentle]...Hm." He reached out. His large hand gently lifted the small meat bun. Seras's eyes grew moist. (This... it's not words, but it's conveying so much...) Walter quietly set down a cup. "[gentle]The Earl Grey is ready." The scent of bergamot wafted softly through the reception room. —That was when it happened. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! An ear-splitting alarm shook the entire mansion. "[gentle]...Oh my." Anderson was on his feet instantly. His chair toppled backward. "[angry]They followed me!" Alucard first pulled the plate of meat buns toward himself. Then he stood. His crimson pupils gleamed, slit vertically. "[excited]Wait, Master Alucard! This is no time for that!" "[cold]Meat buns are a strategic resource." "What kind of strategy is that?!" Walter had already activated the monitor in the corner of the room. Security camera footage appeared. Near the perimeter fence. Three men in black clothing. On their chests, the Iscariot crest—that emblem of the thirty pieces of silver of Judas the betrayer—gleamed. "[gentle]With the Friday settings, I lowered the alarm sensitivity in the reception room, but I did not lower it for the perimeter fence. Three intruders, approaching from the garden side." "[serious]They are the radical faction's field operatives. They must have moved after detecting my entry into England." Anderson's voice had already shifted into that of a priest before battle. But he had not yet drawn his scriptures. Only his eyes had begun to glow gold. "[serious]If we engage them here, it will create the fact that the Hellsing Organization and Iscariot fought within this mansion. That alone will set the radical faction's plan in motion." "[cold]In other words, we are not to use weapons." "[serious]If we do, we fall into the trap." Seras had started toward the hallway. She intended to retrieve the Harkonnen. But her feet stopped. (If I fire my cannon... that completes the trap?!) "[scared]What do we do, Master Alucard?!" Seras turned around. Alucard stood holding a meat bun. His crimson eyes burned, reflecting the red light of the alarm. But at the corner of his mouth—a smile had formed. "[laughing]Amusing." The face of a vampire who had lived five hundred years, encountering something truly amusing for the first time. Not a bored laugh. That laugh—the one that came from the depths of his soul, genuinely enjoying himself. "[laughing]We'll handle this without weapons. It's been a long time since I've had to use my head in a fight." Seras realized it for the first time. (This smile... it's different from the bored ones before.) Alucard took a bite of the meat bun. Chewing, he looked out the window. Black shadows infiltrating the garden. "[cold]Walter, keep the tea warm. I'll drink it when we return." "[gentle]As you wish." Walter bowed elegantly. In his hand, an ultra-fine wire glinted—she had no idea when he'd produced it. Anderson drew a bundle of bayonets from inside his suit. The consecrated silver blades reflected the red light of the alarm. "[serious]Alucard, I will say one thing. I did not come here to kill you. Remember that, at least." "[laughing]I know. That's what makes it amusing." The quiet tea party was over. In its place, a five-hundred-year-old vampire, a fanatical priest, a former police officer vampire, and a former Angel of Death butler—were now about to step into a battle where they could not use their weapons. Footsteps could be heard from outside the window. Three of them. Treading across the garden lawn, approaching the reception room. Alucard tossed the last meat bun into his mouth. Chew chew. Gulp. "[laughing]Well then—it seems this will be a night free of boredom."