Chapter Nine

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Hours had lapsed and the lightness outside of the curtains had begun to fade; the manor eventually swallowed by the darkness. The large shady trees the windows of the rooms opened to had fallen quiet for another day, the grounds were free of roaming groundskeepers, and large balls of warm-yellow light were slowly being turned on to illuminate the pathways linking smaller buildings to the main. The manor was a peaceful place and the beauty of the sprawling grounds in the rolling country-side often served as the perfect welcome to visitors. It was also secluded which served as a form of security form prying eyes.

Ellen and Hans were occupying one of the many living rooms on this evening, the same one that Hans had bought Ellen to during their first encounter. A fire was crackling in the grand fireplace again, casting warmth and soft light on everything that it could touch. With such an intense mentoring session from Claudia that morning, Hans allowed Ellen to have the afternoon off to do whatever she liked. They were now head-to-head in an intense game of chess, their backs arched over an ancient set made of bone which sparkled in the dim light. Hans was winning, but not by much. Their defeated pieces lined the sides of the board like spectators watching onwards at their peers. Intense silence filled the room; silence that was so intense you could almost feel it. The only thing that could be heard was the quiet crackling of the fire. Ellen made a move, a wide grin spreading over Hans' face.

"You shouldn't have," he chuckled. "Check mate."

Ellen sat back in the chair she had occupied those nights ago, folded her arms and pouted. "Every. Single. Time."

Hans slid back in his own chair and took a glass into his hand, swirling the contents. It had been established that he had a taste for aged whisky, and the specific one he had opened tonight was one given to him a number of decades ago from a Master in another clan. Ellen had since learned that clans were separate groups of Tempusmancers around the world, each clan belonging to a different country and occasionally, regions in those countries. She had also learned that the title 'Master' was only given to those that lead one of these clans and that they had the duty to look after their respective groups in times of need. Hans' specific clan consisted of well-functioning and intelligent Tempusmancers that could think for themselves and problem solve. Other Masters weren't as lucky, and had a high call-out and workload.

"You play quite well; so well, in fact, one would have a hard time guessing you've never played before."

Ellen smiled and then she remembered the voice that she had heard in the room earlier. Sire. Her eyebrows furrowed unintentionally as she recalled what the terrified man had said. Her mind was quick to whirl into thoughts, trying to join any links together. Nothing.

"Is everything okay, Ellen?" she heard Hans ask casually. He swirled the glass one more and emptied the remaining contents into mouth.

"Can I ask you something?"

Hans swallowed the whisky and placed the glass down. "Of course."

"What is a sire?"

Hans peered at her, his arms now nestled on his knees. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I heard someone say it today. I've only heard that word used with vampires but I don't know whether they exist..." Ellen explained.

Hans' eyes narrowed on her, his face hardening. "Oh, they exist. You'll hurt their feelings if they hear you say that they aren't real. We just don't have anything to do with them and they don't have anything to do with us. We operate in peace, letting each do their own. They stay out of our way and we return the favour. Did you see who said it by chance?"

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