The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 3 - The Hall Of Silence

London,
Trafalgar Square
Order of Seekers of Truth and Knowledge
The Hall of Silence
2 November 1898, 8:34 a.m.

Tensely (perhaps a little nervously), Kyle's gaze turned to the vast hall that stretched behind the reception desk. Dark marble lined the floor, making the Hall of Silence seem sombre and mysterious. The light of many flames climbed along the small rivers in the stone, making them look like veins of gold in their glow. The high vaulted ceiling was characteristic of a former railway station hall and, in the style of such buildings, was flanked on either side by enormous columns. They embraced the recessed fireplaces, whose golden stucco against the dark green enamel tiles on the wall created a noble flair.

But even that decoration failed to transform the hall into something that could have been called 'inviting' or 'warm'. Presumably, this was not the Order's intention. The niches between the columns were ideal for conspiratorial chatting - but never louder than a murmuring whisper, in keeping with the motto of the hall. Dark green leather armchairs were scattered throughout the lobby around small teak tables. Depending on the time of day, there were sometimes more or fewer seekers and members of the Order in this place. At this time, most were working, so the area was relatively empty, with only a few lone gentlemen at the tables.

Each of his footsteps echoed treacherously in the vault, announcing the new arrival and trailing after him like an invisible cloak. A glance rose from a book; heads turned slightly in wary watchfulness of case files or research lying scattered on one of the tables. But he had no intention at the moment of catching a sneaky glimpse of other members' assignments. Therefore, he marched past the gentlemen, gave them a slight nod and strode straight past a stern-looking marble bust. On another of the presentation pillars, an antique firearm with obscure engravings gleamed under glass with a brass-coloured plaque. On the hall's north wall, a marble staircase and a mechanical lift led to the lower parts of the guild.

But this time, the lower vaults were different from his destination. He was not here this morning to train or attend a meeting. Nor to poke his nose into the magnificent collection of antique books... or stealthily look out for secret doors. The light from the massive chandeliers and crackling fires in the fireplaces travelled over his figure until he finally reached the back areas.

A small, round teak table nestled there in the corner next to one of the fireplaces. On the polished surface lay a black leather folder with the symbol of the Seekers on it, The golden embossing of the All-Seeing Eye. Three glasses stood next to a crystal glass carafe, two filled with liquids but one empty, and a small silver bowl of nuts. 

Of four available seats, two were occupied. The figures of two gentlemen occupied the seats of the moss-green wing chairs. Both gazes fixed on him as he covered the last few metres, and still in stride, Kyle could see the younger gentlemen sitting up straighter. There was an expression of extreme impatience in his features and the kind of condescending attitude that made him immediately take up an inner defensive posture. Kyle knew his partner, the oh-so-fine  Lord of and to Archer didn't think very highly of him. Excuse me... DOCTOR Lord of Archer. "Do not forget the doctor!" he thought bitterly, curling his lips.

"You're too late," Dr Archer stated. His voice had a sober, calm tone that reminded Kyle of the sharpened blade of a knife, and it didn't have to stab, and just the flash of the blade warned one to be mindful.

Dr Benjamin Archer was a tall, slender man in his mid-thirties with straight auburn hair and a rakish jaw that even the razor could cut. A neatly trimmed beard set his cheeks in a slight shadow, thickening around the curve of his chin as well as above his upper lip, where it shaped out with a slight upward sweep. His clothes were always decent and clean, not inferior, but he didn't seem to follow the latest fashions either. There was always something practical about it, comfortable rather than elegant. That kind of high lordliness alike, who felt so secure in their padded saddle of a noble title that they didn't care about their outward effect.