A warm summer breeze gentle lifted the thin, white curtains of the opened balcony door. It carried the heavy scent of bloom, of flowers and trees alike, laced with the silt of the ocean. The breeze only a small respite from the harsh summer heat that had begun two days beforehand, with no end in sight.
The room itself was a large study, the walls filled to the brim with bookcases. Most shelves were packed with books and notes of all forms, and several languages. The bare space that was left held items from cultures the world all over, and several archeological pieces. A single, glass display case stood prominently in the center of the bookcases, filled with items of more dubious nature such as an egyptian death mask, a collection of skulls with strange holes and markings, and an African fetish made of a snake’s head, bat wings and chicken claws.

Another breeze stirred the ashen brown locks of a young man fast asleep atop the mahogany desk in the centre of the room. He was surrounded by stacks of books, like a makeshift fortress of knowledge within which had locked himself. But one glance over the open books on the desk proved that these had not been the light summer studies of a gentleman, as words as 'Daemon’, 'Phantom’ and 'Vampyre’ were common, alongside with handwritten Latin and Germanic texts.
It appeared he had dozed off in the midst of his studies, not even having had the time to take off his round, wireframed glasses before he resorted to using his own notes as a makeshift pillow. His fountain pen had rolled away from him until it had come to rest against the spine of a book, leaving stains of black India ink in its wake. It had slipped from the grasp of his left hand, which still loosely reached in its general direction, the three fingers that remained limp with sleep. He had only his thumb, index and middle finger, the other two gone together with a sizeable chunk of his palm leaving only an uneven, marred scar that led down to about the middle of his hand.
It was no bother to him in his sleep, his breaths slow and even, and his expression blissfully blank.

A loud knock on the wooden door startled him awake. Immediately he looked about the room, letting out a confused ‘huh?’ as he didn’t recognise his surroundings at first.
“Milord, the Earl Harrowby has arrived.” A voice on the other side of the door said, he couldn’t quite tell exactly who it was yet.
“Ah yes, of course, Mr. Cottrell?” He said loudly, attempting to not sound drowsy at all while he used the back of his hand to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. He had to take a guess that this man was his butler, as he couldn’t tell by voice through a closed door.
“No, I’m Mr. Paiget milord, Mr. Cottrell is downstairs directing the hallboys. Do you wish for me to fetch him?” He heard his valet say, all the while he attempted to straighten his unruly hair out.
“No no, that’s fine, it is you who I have need for.”
“Certainly Milord, what do you require?”
Getting tired of speaking through doors, he just let his hair be and decided that if this was how it was, he’d have to make do with it. On the other side of the door stood a thin man, getting on in years with a neat sidepart and a straight, impeccable mustache above a content smile. Even his bewildered appearance couldn’t shake his valet.
“A clean set of clothes before I face the Earl.”
“Of course Milord, should I make it fashionable? Earl Harrowby brought his daughters with.”
The young Lord shook his head, not even musing the suggestion for a second.
“Presentable will do.” He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any fuss, especially not in this hot weather. With a gesture he dismissed his valet again, and although the man kept smiling he picked up on a slight hint of disappointment.
“Yes Milord.”

With a bit of haste he made his way through the upstairs hallway, only to come face to face with the sight of Earl Harrowby and his butler speaking to one another. Although he’d come to know Mr. Cottrell as a rather stern man in the past few days, the conversation between the two seemed rather lighthearted.
The Earl Harrowby was an imposing man himself, even when he was getting on in years. He stood tall, and his hair, sideburns and mustache, even when a dark grey, still much resembled the mane of a lion. A moment later the young Lord was spotted watching from upstairs, and the man spread his arms wide in a familial gesture.
“Alden! There you are.” Although one couldn’t see the Earl’s mouth, his mustache moved up and down in time with his voice. Alden assumed he was smiling, and played along as he descended the stairs with rapid steps. He was immediately pulled into a tight hug, his small physique nearly vanishing into the Earl’s chest. The familiarity was rather one-sided, but despite that he didn’t want to deny the Earl this gesture of kindness. “I am so glad to see you finally back home where you belong.”
This is not my home, it is only the house I was born in. With a nod and a smile, Alden took the first opportunity he had to take a step back and escape the embrace.
“It has been a while, Milord.” He agreed, his words blank enough that he didn’t need to show his true opinion that it had been so long it could as well have been entirely new to him.
“There’s no need for titles my boy. I consider you as good as family.” The Earl waved away the pleasantries like they were only afterthoughts. “How about a cup of tea and we join the others outside? There’s no reason let go to waste this beautiful weather.”
“I can agree with that. Mr. Cottrell, if you please.” Alden waved away his butler.
“Of course Milord, Earl Harrowby.” With a stiff yet polite nod to the both of them, Mr. Cottrell took his leave.

The butler had not yet left for half a second, or the Earl took his opportunity to hold Alden by the shoulders. His mustache lifted as he visibly smiled, before a hearty chuckle caused it to shake. Alden simply stood there and took it, slightly uncomfortable as he was hardly used to such closeness, but he couldn’t deny there was something pleasant about it when dosed well.
“Your father would have been proud of you.”
He was not usually one to be easily affected by words, but even he had enough of a heart for such a sentence to pierce it all the way through. The sting left him unable to speak, instead masking his hurt with a smile and a nod.
“Despite everything, you've grown up into a fine man.” A hefty hand patted his shoulder, and he nodded again.
“I must admit I would have preferred to be more of a man; about half a foot or such.” Alden lifted his hand up above his head and estimated the height required to reach the average. It caused the Earl to chuckle again, out loud this time.
“You make up for it in wit, my boy.” A last firm pat on his back declared the end of sentiment. “Now shall we go?”
He nodded, and they both walked towards the open, glass-inlaid doors that led into the sunlit backyard.

Alden deliberately tried to walk on the shadow side of the Earl as they crossed the garden, so as to not constantly be in the sunlight. Even then he could already feel his pale skin burn, hardly used to it when he spent most of his nights studying. Admittedly he'd barely even looked at his gardens for the short while he'd been here. The Earl knew better than him where to go.
Amongst flowering rose bushes and wild ivy in the seemingly endless garden, there was some privacy from the personnel. The Earl stopped on one of the more secluded paths, in the softly rustling shade of a few yellow-leaved trees. His earlier jolly demeanour had settled for a more serious, albeit elated expression.
“I have heard that you separated from the Occultists?”
Alden's expression hardly changed, not surprised that the news had begun to reach out, even if he somewhat regretted the event.
“Yes milord. Consider it intellectual differences.”
“You are far too smart to entertain such folly as creatures and witchcraft. Their existence is based on mere conjecture.” The Earl said, his volume rising as he vocalised his displeasement.
“I wish to research on my own, see which is truth and what is falsehood. But their traditions left little place for the logical philosophies.” Alden stated calmly, not letting himself get dragged along in the anger.
“Of course they would not, you would prove them all false.” A stammer left the Earl as he shook his head. “If you wish to fight true monsters, follow your father into politics.”
“I have no such interests,” Alden waved away the hopeful suggestion. “Politics have never been my field of choice, I wish to research. I have been in contact with the Ethnological Society of London, to legitimize my studies. If not useful in relation to the occult, my collection will be of interest to anthropologists.”
“Although I had rather seen you separate entirely from these ideas, I can only commend your dedication to the truth. Perhaps your research will allow you rest, and time to settle.” The Earl nodded, his mustache lifting slightly in a smile, but Alden once more shook his head.
“To settle would mean to fall behind, and I have neither the will nor the dedication for commitments of such importance.”
“You do have a responsibility to your estate however. If you were to perish – God forbid it, there would be no legitimate heir to Gravesend.”
“You have ran the estate fine in the decade of my absence.”
“Under the assumption you were to return, but what hands would it fall in if you did not? The, pardon my language, greed-festered grip of your uncle? It certainly would not be mine, and I do not wish for the consequences it would bear if it were to.”
“I would arrange for Gravesend and Allhallows to self-govern, provided they remain impartial. For one man to control the entrance to the Thames has proven unworkable too often.”
“That is a bold claim to make, but given the situation I cannot say that it is the worst option. You would need to garner political support for such a move, however.”
“I certainly have not planned to pass away. I am sure the matter can be settled, given time and careful deliberation.” Alden smiled at Earl Harrowby to ease the well-founded but unnecessary worries. “Now, I’d wish to enjoy tea, perhaps over some more light-hearted subjects?” With a gesture down the path he signalled the end of their chat. The Earl was quiet for a moment, but then nodded and continued on towards the back of the garden.