Sacred Lineage

She woke up alone, a bit after the sun had peeked over the horizon. The display on her alarm clock read 0716 hours. She sighed, and just then, there was a soft knock at her door.

It was at that point that she realized that she was still naked.

Shrugging into her tawny satin bedshirt that extended well to the middle of her thighs, she answered the door. Predictably, it was Walter, who was carrying a large tray filled with presents.

“Happy Birthday, Deirdre, and many happy returns.”

“Thank you, Walter. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Deirdre. Would you like breakfast?”

“Please.”

Walter nodded. “I’ll have it right up.”

She considered the boxes. Which to open first? Out of love and loyalty to her mother, she decided to open the one from Integral first. Much as she had expected, it was a new suit, and one appropriate for wear at her knighting tonight. Charcoal grey slacks and jacket, and a French blue shirt along with a golden tie; she would look stunning. She smiled, pleased at her mother’s thoughtfulness, and picked up the card inside. Along with the usual poetic drivel was a handwritten note from her mother.

“My dearest Deirdre, you are everything I could have ever asked for in a child. I love you very much, and I am so very proud of you. Love you always, Mother.”

Until the teardrop smeared the calligraphy, she didn’t know she was crying. She hastily wiped the tears away, and looked to the next box. On a whim, she chose the one from Seras. It was rather small, but one never knew what Seras would get for one.

Opening it, she found a string of black saltwater pearls. They’d go beautifully with the suit, and wouldn’t look as gaudy as a stone might. She knew quality, and knew that these were extremely expensive. For the first time, she wondered what Hellsing paid it’s Vampires, but dismissed the thought. Whatever they made, they deserved much, much more. She’d never taken an interest in the books, there was an accountant for that. She thought though, that she would need to look into that soon. One day, she would be responsible for all of it.

The package from Walter was next, not surprisingly it was another suit, this one exquisitely tailored for a woman. He had her measurements, of course, and he’d obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get this exactly to her liking. The slacks and jacket were black, and the shirt lavender. She would look lovely in it, but it wasn’t obviously for tonight, like her mother’s gift was.

There were two boxes from Alucard, one was long and slender, the other fatter, but shorter. She unwrapped it to find a wreath made of garlic and a handwritten note: “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” It made her laugh, he was so obviously not Greek, but on the other hand, the sentiment was entirely correct.

The second gift was much heavier. She opened it to find a sheathed Wootz Damascus longsword with the Hellsing Arms enameled upon the pommel. She drew the blade, and breath escaped her for a moment. It was obviously high quality steel, it barely whispered as it escaped the scabbard. She drew it fully out, and the balance was perfect. Were it a shorter sword, she could have tossed it end over end and caught it by the hilt. Technically, she could do it now, but she’d have possibly done some damage to the ceiling.

It was a gift worthy of a King, the Wootz method of creating blades had been lost in the 1700’s, and Deirdre was relatively sure that this blade was at least somewhat older than the last Wootz Damascus blade. It touched her that Alucard would think her worthy of this blade, although she’d made a point or two on him, he was a difficult teacher to impress.

Her mind took her back years to her first lessons.

She’d been five when Walter had first begun to teach her. Learning the sword had seemed quite a game then. She’d been excited at every lesson with the light wooden practice blade that was cut down to size. An hour a day wasn’t much to ask of the young Hellsing heir, and she’d done her best then. By the time she was fifteen, between Integral and the Earl of Mountbatten, Deirdre had learned classical fencing very well indeed.

The next phase of her training was more difficult. Her mother delivered her to Alucard one evening with the curious instruction: “Teach her how to fight.” Deirdre, who had by now had ten years worth of instruction fencing, wasn’t sure exactly what her mother had meant by that. It wasn’t long before she found out.

Fencing was an art, an intricate dance of offense and defense, of the classical works of kings and generals. Fighting, as practiced by Alucard, was the brutal, ugly business of the battlefield. It wasn’t long before Deirdre was fully aware of the difference. Alucard held back when he fought her, but only enough to keep from injuring her. If he caught her holding back, there was hell to pay. The consequence was generally a bruising blow to her side or thigh that was enough to keep her at her most bloodthirsty until the bruise wore off. Generally, as soon as she’d lost one, she’d earn another. For a year, the pattern continued that way.

Four days after her seventeenth birthday, though, something changed. For the first time, Deirdre saw an unguarded opening. She lunged in, and with a diagonal stroke separated Alucard’s head from his shoulders except for a small amount of skin and muscle that kept his head somewhat attached to his body. Blood fountained up and covered her like a cloak, and the vampire, who she had despaired of ever beating, collapsed forward onto his knees.

She was horrified for a moment, her mouth falling open, and her hand pressed to it. She was too shocked to scream, which was probably a good thing. The next thing she heard was the deep, rich laugh that she both loved and hated depending on the vampire’s mood.

He reached up with his right hand, and righted his head on his shoulders, where it quickly reattached like it had never been removed. He had smiled at her, she remembered, and licked his lips. “You’ll do,” had been his only comment.

Try as she might, she’d never managed to cut off his head again, but she’d managed to score on him a few times. Had she thought of him as he was, an expert at war, a vestige of brutality beyond the imagining of most modern minds, she would have realized that scoring what could only have been termed a fatality hit was much more impressive on him than it was on any of her peers, including the Lord Mountebatten. Alucard had been practicing swordcraft for centuries, he had the advantage of limitless strength, endurance, and experience. It was her young age and inexperience that allowed her to think that she was less than she was.

The knock on her door signifying breakfast brought her completely back from her reverie. She left the sword lying on the bed, and opened the door. Walter gracefully carried the tray into the room and said: “Miss Deirdre, I will soon be leaving to take your mother to the hospital for some tests. Would you please receive Mr. Tourville and make him comfortable here? He will need to see someone soon so that the proper arrangements can be made for his housing and assignment.”

“Of course.” Said Deirdre, surprised that she would be left in charge of something like this.

“Your mother has more confidence in you than you know.” Said Walter, divining her reason for doubt. “I suspect that you will assign him to the Information Retrieval Unit. His background certainly suggests that he would be much better there than with the foot troops.”

Deirdre nodded. “Should I offer him a suite in the house? I think it would be impolite to expect an invited guest to stay in the Barracks.”

“If you choose to do that, be sure to assign him appropriate rank, Miss Deirdre.” He stated.

She wasn’t exactly sure that she was making the right decision, still, but she wasn’t completely sure she should ask for more advice, either.

“I think the rank of Lieutenant would be appropriate, and indeed, we can’t have the Yanks thinking that we’re impolite. We aren’t French, after all.”

She laughed. “Not French, indeed. Would you please have Mr. Tourville in the office at 0915 hours? I will need a chance to get ready.”

“Very well, Miss Deirdre. I will let him know. Unfortunately, I will not be there to announce him, but I am sure he will be able to find his way without me. I shall give him impeccable directions.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Deirdre, already wolfing down her breakfast. Forty-five minutes would be enough time, barely. She was glad she had taken a shower before going to bed last night. It wouldn’t take much time to get ready.

At 0910 hours she was ready, dressed in the new suit provided by Walter, and wishing that she could get away with wearing the sword that had been given to her by Alucard. It was a beautiful thing, it seemed a shame to relegate it to the life of ceremony, pomp, and circumstance, rather than the life for which it had been intended. Perhaps Alucard thought it had spent enough time there, and was offering it a retirement with an honorable occupation, but perhaps she would use it in earnest again. One never knew.

At precisely 0915 hours there was a knock on the door.

“Come.” Dierdre said, loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the door.

Okay, I know that this is a crappy place to end, but I have to talk to Dan about the next conversation, and I’ve been promising this to my SuckUBus for the last few days. I will try and talk to him soon and get the next chapter up before too long. Hopefully tomorrow, but before Wednesday if I’m really lucky.