Ellen's eyes scanned the courtroom, taking in its marvel and beauty. The room itself was cavernous with tall, sweeping ceilings made of rock and wooden beams. The walls were similar, predominantly stone that was bracketed by dark wood, and the floor itself was made of highly-polished marble. As the room was underground, it was also cool and occasionally made Ellen shiver and the hairs on her skin stand on end. A marvellous, intricately detailed gold chandelier that was drilled into the ceiling hung at the forward of the room, bathing everything under it in a pale-yellow light. Two long, bench-like tables stretched from one wall to the other; the second elevated on a platform so that the observers in the gallery. Seated behind them were eighteen members of the Committee; eighteen which was usually twenty. But not today. One of their own members was being tried, and Claudia was yet to enter as per procedure. A small table was set up to the side to accommodate a scribe who was now busying herself unwinding a scroll.

The gallery was full of spectators whispering amongst each other; the masses usually only arriving in force when someone of prominence was being tried or whether it involved Necromancers. It was like the squeaking of mice, so quiet but together as one, so loud. Ellen found herself on the front bench in an optimal viewing position, tightly nestled between Guardian Rolland and someone who she had never seen before. Flaming red hair, dark as night skin and a heavy accent told Ellen that she wasn't local to this region. Hans had fought hard prior to the trial, banning her from attending but Claudia had insisted otherwise and saw it as beneficial. The final result was that she would be able to attend but only in the company of Rolland. At times she felt as if she was being babysat but in reality, she was only young in this world and needed guidance and experience. Being better than nothing, she accepted and was now waiting eagerly on the bench-seats with everyone else for the trial to begin.

Rolland had taken it on himself to educate her about the legal process, and was giving her a whispering commentary in her ear about what to expect and etiquette customs that needed to be observed. He also pointed to the Grand Committee members, giving a brief yet intimate description of each person. The members were diverse, coming from all corners of the globes, as were their features. Skin shades ranged from ghastly white to a rich, chocolate brown; hair, bald to floor length and white to black, faces were shaped from pointed to well-rounded. They all wore the same ceremonial robes of pale gold, a symbol of honourable status and were expressionless. Her eyes rested on Hans who was seated in the middle-front, left of the chair that Claudia would be occupying shortly. His face was neutral, both hands entwined and resting on the table in front of him. He also refused to make eye contact with anyone, rather intensely focusing on the edge of the table in front of him.

There was a sudden bang! - similar to an explosion - and heads in the gallery turned rapidly towards the entrance doors. The heavy panels of wood flew open and a group of guards marched inwards along the aisle. Ellen could just make out the small man, Dvorak, amongst them, dwarfed by the others. The metal armour they wore clanged with each and every step, the metallic sound bouncing and echoing off the walls. Once at the top of the aisle and facing towards the Grand Committee, the front guards broke from the line and retreated, followed by the guards that were on the sides of Dvorak. Those that stood behind the man remained there, ensuring that he couldn't escape if he tried; although, Ellen had the inkling that the guards wouldn't need to be there physically to be able to stop him. An aura was given off by them, an aura filled with power and might.

All eyes were on Dvorak now who stood defiantly at the front, his eyes transfixed on the empty seat; so transfixed that he may have gone cross-eyed. There were still a few stolen whispers in the gallery, a mix of curiosity and accusatory. It was difficult to make out what these individual whispers were but that didn't bother Ellen. Rumours had leaked of what had happened in the meeting that day and most had a very heavily weighted opinion. It seemed clear that he wasn't, by any means, a popular Tempusmancer yet alone a Master. Ellen suspected the only ones that supported him were from his very own clan, and even they seemed few and far between in the gallery.

The scribe rose from her seat and cleared her throat. No one seemed to notice her; that was, until she boomed over them. This was very unexpected and several members jumped in their seats.

"Silence!" she shouted to the gallery. Her command was loud, and the room immediately fell silent under her piercing stare. The atmosphere went from being excited to being instantly electric. It was starting; the infamous trial was starting! And they would be here to witness it all unfold or, in Dvorak's case, unravel. Or at least, that's what everyone was expecting at this moment.

"All rise for Her Honor, the Grand Master!" The observers did as they were told, several removing head garments whilst standing up and bowing their heads. Ellen mimicked them, rising from her chair and training her gaze onto the stone floor; Rolland brushing against her as he did the same. It was considered impolite to watch Claudia take her seat, and so eyes were often diverted downwards.

"You may sit," the scribe instructed once more. There was a brief flurry of movement as everyone retook their seats on the benches, the sound of bodies thumping on wood filling the room.

Silence shrouded the room once more, so quiet that you could easily hear the nib of the fountain pen scribbling on the scribes' parchment.

Ellen now looked at the completed Committee, Claudia's throat shifting as she cleared it. The strict woman looked through her glasses, down her nose at the man in front of her.

"Master Dvorak, you are summoned here today on suspicion of treason. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, your Honor." The gallery broke out in hasty murmurs; murmurs that were quashed with the wave of a hand. Ellen observed some of the faces around her, all of which were flabbergasted. The Grand Committee remained poised and patient, thinking within themselves and disregarding the reactions of those around them. They couldn't let that influence their decisions. They were here to be impartial and deliver an unbiased judgement.

"In a previous meeting, you moved to stop protection of Miss Ellen Nightingale despite her having faced death by Necromancer. A short time later, a member of our group heard someone pleading with the sire to divert something to a later time. They were presumably in a communicative trance. How do you describe this?" Claudia's gaze into Dvorak was akin to her gazing into his soul. It was ruthless; calculating. She was prowling for the truth and nothing was going to stand in her way. There was a panic within the gallery as the word 'sire' was said. It was to be expected; it was a somewhat taboo word.

"To answer the first part of your recount," he started calmly. Everyone fell silent once more, comprehending each word as it was spoken. "Was that I was acting in the best interests of my clan which is part of my duty as a Master. I will not let any of them come to harm if I can help it, even if it means harming the skin on my own body. To answer the second part, that was not me. I do not affiliate myself with any of the Necromancers, let alone the self-professed 'sire'."

"Master Dvorak, the Grand Committee is aware that your children perished at the hands of the sire some years ago. What is there to say that he threatened to kill your spouse too unless you answered his calls? Did his bidding within this manor?" The questions from Claudia were pointed, sharp daggers into Dvorak's composure. There were several oooooh's and aaaaah's as audience members gasped at the thought. Serving Lucien was despicable evil, regarded to only be done by those with the most tainted souls.

His face fell, colour draining from his already-pale complexion. These presumptions were wild and extremely formidable.

"I assure you that I am against him and do not stand as one with his scum. My allegiance is with the Tempusmancers and Tempusmancers only. I swore that when I took the incantation as a Master."

Claudia lowered her glasses from the crook of her nose and folded them onto the table in front of her. She rubbed the pressure spot the nose-pieces left, unconsciously, and deep in deliberation. "I believe that the only away to determine the truth," she placed particular emphasis on the last word. Ellen saw Dvorak's legs shake slightly, his body swaying on the spot. His chest rose and dropped faintly but quickly. He knew what was about to hit him. "Is to administer a Seek."

Dvorak gave a curdling cry, Ellen watching as the man went from being defiant to weak and helpless. Despite not knowing what a Seek was, she could only assume it was something terrible as the gallery fell into shock around him. Mouths dropped open and shrieks erupted and there was commotion. It was disarray. Trying to get a handle of the situation, Claudia called for order. Her voice overpowered the room and everyone immediately settled.

"What's a Seek?" asked Ellen, leaning closer to Rolland. She wasn't sure if he had heard her but he responded soon after with a gentle whisper.

"A Seek is something that the guards do to determine what actually happened. Essentially, the guards access the persons mind and can see every memory they have in there, kind of like probing. They can see everything that person has done. There is no privacy, and it usually leaves them feeling exhausted and violated afterwards."

Ellen looked on in horror as the guards seized Dvorak by the arms and led him away, through a door to the side, and out of the onlooker's sight. He was kicking, he was digging his heels into the rocks, and she heard him scream in pained anguish. It demonstrated how truly brutal a Seek was. She hoped - she prayed - she wouldn't have to experience it in her lifetime.

And then the door he was lead through slammed closed and Dvorak's hysterical screaming became silence. That was the end of the public trial.

- - -

A very restless and frustrated Lucien slammed his fist onto the desk, the knock on wood by muscle, skin and bone being the only sound in the room. He was by himself, but he didn't mind. Lucien was his own best company and he spent many moments alone in his office. The darkness, the privacy. It was the birthplace of all his directions, his work and his leadership as well as his masterminded plans. Little did anyone know that he killed his teacher here, but that was his secret and his pride. It also held a special place in his cold heart.

He let out an impatient sigh and lay back in the chair, letting the back recline under his weight like his teacher did before him. He hated it when his plan didn't go accordingly but especially hated it when his contact didn't inform him like he was asked to. It had been a full day now without hearing from him, and he was growing tired. Did he have to begin executing the next step without receiving the insight? It was a leering possibility; a possibility that was now on his radar. Either way, the potential blood shed was music to his ears and very well welcomed.

He gripped his favourite letter opening knife from its holder and weaved it between his fingers.

In and out.

In and out.

The silver knife twinkled hauntingly in the dim light, the shiny blade reflecting his face. He looked unkempt, the stress he was experiencing wreaking havoc on his appearance. Since the infamous Hans Grey had rescued the girl, everything had fallen to the wayside and he had to rely on his leading hand to keep him informed. And now, it seemed that his leading hand had no longer regarded his bidding as priority. This would call for punishment. Unless... No, he would give his help another fifteen minutes. If by that time he received no word, then he would think of how to punish him.

He mentally replayed Plan B in his mind, down to minute-by-minute increments. All the key players were already on standby in case they got the call. In case they got his call. And then they would act immediately, striking on his command. He mused at the thought, the sight of success making him smile. Not too much longer. And this time, he would make sure the girl didn't get away.

"Sire," a weak voice called to him. "Can you hear me?" His heartbeat leapt to a quicker tempo. He didn't show this of course; he couldn't.

"I hope you can give me more information," he replied simply; mentally.

"They have administered the Seek, so we do not have much time. They are planning on doing an outing with the girl in the coming days - soon. The perfect time would be then."

These were the words that Lucien wanted to hear; the words he was so desperately itching to be told. And now that he was told them, he couldn't be happier. The rats were going into the rattrap and he would have that girl in his grasp again soon.

"Can you provide me with more specific information when it becomes available?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Don't fail me," he cautioned. He knew it had the same effect as hanging a sword above his helps head.

And then the feeble voice was gone.

Lucien sat back upright and hefted the knife into the desk. It cut through the wood relatively easily, the blade being sharp and well maintained. It was now stuck in the wood, swaying back and forth like it was made of rubber. It was only a matter of time before the Tempusmancers would be kneeling before him, swaying on their knees begging for their lives.

Begging for their lives like his teacher.

He let out a hearty laugh, arising from deep within his chest.

Soon.