England,
London, Trafalgar Square
Order of the Seekers of Truth and Knowledge
Hall of Silence
03 October 1899, 08:53 a.m.

A finely dressed gentleman from behind a massive reception table awaited Kyle and Dr Archer as they returned to the entrance hall. The so-called Chamberlain raised his hand to attract the attention of the two gentlemen and then, with a fluid, silent gesture of his hands and features, transmitted a soundless message:

His right hand, with an outstretched index finger, first traveled to his left shoulder, then, with a smooth movement, ran queerly across his chest and ended at his hip on the right. In this way, he simulated a sash—the hand sign that unmistakably indicated the title: "Lord."

Then followed a name in a silent but equally precise dance of the fingers: S, U, N, D, E, R, B, R, A, N, D, Y—each letter was formed nimbly but carefully and presented one after the other as if the hand were writing the characters legibly in the air. As if to ensure the two seekers understood, Chamberlain made eye contact and only continued when both had given a brief nod to indicate their agreement.

To show that the lord was already waiting, the servant formed his hands into an open position with his fingers slightly apart and held them at chest height. The hands moved gently up and down in an undulating motion - a calm image of waiting. Finally, he pointed his outstretched index finger at the visitor to address "you" and pulled his hand forward from his chin with a slight move as if to confirm an existing situation. Then, the mute servant gestured towards the large round entrance behind him, which led into the Hall of Silence. The message was clear and well known to the two gentlemen: 'Lord Sunderbrandy is waiting for you.'

"At least we're punctual for once," Benjamin murmured, glancing at his partner sideways.

"We're almost always on time," Kaylee replied, again as nonchalantly as if nothing had just happened and as if they hadn't just had an almost violent argument. Kaylee received her walking stick from the Chamberlain, which she had given him for safekeeping before the mission, and then casually glanced at the display of her pocket watch.

Kaylee displayed the typical attitude of young men not to take being on time too seriously. A characteristic that the young Seeker had already shown during her first encounter with the Doctor. On the other hand, Benjamin Archer, for whom it was good manners to arrive on time and schedule, literally heard every "tick" and every "tock" of the open watch, which quickly slipped back into Kaylee's west pocket.

The doctor was in the prime of his life, in his early thirties. But ever since he had been mortally wounded in Egypt and mysteriously returned from the dead, he constantly had the feeling that time was slipping through his fingers like sand. There was a strange tension in his chest, almost like something was trying to push his steps in a specific direction. It was an unsettling thought, but he shook it off for now.

Crowford had stepped into the Hall of Silence before him and was now walking a good seven feet in front of Dr Archer. The sound of their shoes on the cold marble floor announced the two gentlemen even before they appeared in person. The Hall of Silence, the heart of the Guild Hall, was always an impressive sight. Whether looking at it for the first time or after ten years, it still left seekers holding their breath in silent awe.

The old and never-used underground station hall arched over their heads while long pillars flanking the side walls extended their spurs, like Gothic arches, over their heads. Small niches with fireplaces were between the mighty stone pillars, ideal for conspiratorial meetings. Dark green leather armchairs were arranged around small teak tables throughout the hall.

Numerous display cabinets and filled shelves lined the hall walls on both sides, and marble busts regularly adorned the center corridor. The dancing light of numerous oil lamps and sporadically lit fireplaces threw a golden glow onto the marble. Stucco and filigree ornamentation along the mighty column bases lent the hall a noble, awe-inspiring air.

Kaylee, on the other hand, had never found this place comfortable. As impressive as it was, what the Order had created from the unfinished railway station reminded her too much of the oppressive, empty feeling she had in churches and cathedrals. Even as a child, these places did not give her the impression of solace and refuge. When angels and images of saints looked down on her, the girl shuddered and felt alone, small, and insignificant.

"Why does Sunderbrandy choose a table at the back? The room is almost empty," Kaylee muttered quietly, and Ben snorted beside her.

If the magician had learned anything in their time together, it had been that Benjamin Archer could make different kinds of snorts and sighs, each with its own expression and meaning. This one was obviously a kind of suppressed chuckle.

"To make him seem more mysterious," the Doctor murmured, and they both gave each other a wordless look of shared amusement.

"Did you just make a joke, Doctor-"

"Careful!" Benjamin said suddenly and grabbed Kyle's upper arm. He pulled her aside just in time to prevent her from bumping into one of the bust pedestals due to the distraction.

"Dammit," Kaylee grumbled, throwing a reproachful look at the stone effigy she had almost run into as if it were to blame for the narrowly avoided collision. The empty, pupil-less eyes of the aging man stared back sternly. Bushy eyebrows above a slightly bent nose and a stony expression. It almost seemed the bust wanted to return the reproachful look just as darkly.

"He certainly wasn't a very humorous person in his life either," Kaylee muttered as her gaze fell to the plate. "Professor Dr Baltasar Van Helsing," she read aloud, her brow furrowing at the sound of the name.

"Crowford?" Ben was already two steps away when he noticed the magician's brief hesitation and stopped.

Kaylee rubbed her chin thoughtfully, tilted her head, and tried to remember how she recognized the name while following Dr. Archer again.

"Should I know this gentleman?" Benjamin wondered, looking back at her with a questioning look. For him, there was nothing special about the bust. It fitted seamlessly into the row of stone faces in the Hall of Silence. All of them depicted elderly gentlemen, whose most striking feature in most cases was an impressive or conspicuous beard. As far as he knew, all of these gentlemen were founders of the order or important members to whom silent respect was to be shown in this way.

"That name sounded familiar," Kaylee thought as they approached the last seating niches. And then it finally hit her: "He resembles a character from a book I read a while ago."

"What book was it?" Interested, Ben glanced back over his shoulder, but they were already too far away for him to recognize any details of the stone portrait. So, instead, he turned his attention to Crowford, who was tugging at the hem of her gloves to ensure they were properly in place.

Kaylee didn't have time to answer anyway, as they had finally reached the end of their march through the Hall of Silence: in one of the far corners, in the sparsely lit darkness, a single fireplace had been lit, standing out from the gloomy surroundings like a torch in the night.

A man sat on one of the dark green leather armchairs, swirling a glass of amber-colored liquid in one hand. His hair, still dark at the top of his head, was already greying heavily at the temples. During the first introduction, he mentioned that the significant jagged scar that ran through his left eyebrow, just past his eye and across the cheekbone of his cheek, was from the war in Afghanistan. An enemy soldier had attacked him with a knife in frenzied desperation. But he had survived the attack, the war, and worse. The older man had an authoritarian air about him. That of a teacher who, although he was writing on the blackboard, nevertheless noticed that someone was scribbling silly little pictures in his exercise book.

As always, her tutor's expensive tweed suit was of the highest quality and undoubtedly made by a well-known tailor, as Kaylee had explained to Benjamin with great enthusiasm and an envious glint in her eye. The dark grey suit fitted perfectly and finished with a white handkerchief in the left pocket. The light caught in the scotch in the hands of the experienced member of the Order, and for a few moments, all eyes were fixed on the slowly swirling liquid and the play of lights within.

As appropriate, Benjamin broke the silence first to greet the elderly gentleman properly: "Good morning, Lord Sunderbrandy," he whispered politely but barely audibly, bowing his head.

"Mr Archer. Mr Crowford." The older Seeker's voice radiated with gravitas, the knowledge and experience of many years - and at times, had something mystical about it that Kaylee could not define. Dark and soft at the same time - almost like the Scotch that the native Scot loved to drink. With an inviting gesture, Lord Sunderbrandy pointed to two more empty armchairs at the table. "I have received your message regarding O'Brien and have taken care of everything else. The artifacts have been successfully recovered and handed over to the architects¹ for examination and classification."

"And O'Brien?" Kaylee asked, and Ben could literally hear the underlying resentment dripping from her voice like water from a leaky pipe. Oh yes - she would undoubtedly have given O'Brien revenge under different conditions. Behind closed doors - and above all, using magic. Usually, she didn't take it that easy when someone blatantly punched her in the face. Admittedly, it may have seemed vindictive or even vengeful. But people had one or two character flaws, and this was one Kaylee could live with.

"O'Brien is questioned at length about his fencing and smuggling activities. He is part of a group of Irish nationalists who sell stolen artifacts and occult items to collectors. After the interrogation, he will be handed over to our contacts at Scotland Yard and sentenced accordingly for his offenses."

"Irish nationalists?" Benjamin wrinkled his nose.

Lord Sunderbrandy kept a straight face and leaned back in his chair. Crossing one leg slightly over the other, he watched patiently as the Chamberlain stepped out of the entrance hall to the small group of tables. The dull light illuminated the noble servants' attire, a tailcoat, white shirt, and tie, while the young man asked silently with his hands if the gentlemen would like something to drink.

Sign language caused Benjamin Archer far fewer problems than Kaylee, who had difficulty communicating because of her hand injury and the gloves she had put on, so the doctor took over the wordless communication and ordering. The Chamberlain quickly moved away to fulfill the requests, and the sound of his footsteps faded into the silence of the vast room.

"O'Brien may only have been a small light in this smuggling ring, but through him, we will undoubtedly soon be able to find and smash the core," Sunderbrandy continued.

Just a few minutes later, the young Chamberlain with short blond hair returned to the table with a small tray and set a cup of tea and a brandy on the fine wooden platter.

Kaylee, meanwhile, sat up in her chair with more interest. Tracking down smugglers of occult artifacts and exposing them? That sounded like a part for Kyle Crowford, the master magician! Even if most of the goods were just trinkets and worthless rubbish from some superstitious people, there were indeed one or two genuine magical artifacts among them ... and she was always interested in them. Not just for personal reasons - such commissions were always a chance to gain prestige in the guild.

But Lord Sunderbrandy was already raising his hand to curb his protégé's euphoria. "You needn't worry about that for now." The tutor leaned slightly to one side, reached into his leather briefcase beside the armchair, and pulled out a small brown folder. He placed it on the table before the two seekers and gently pushed it towards them. The sturdy leather contained some papers. The emblem of the Order was emblazoned on the envelope like a promising seal, and Dr Archer felt an indefinable tingling in his chest.

"A new mission?" he was the first to ask, his eyes fixed on the stamped motif on the leather folder: the pyramid with the Egyptian-looking, all-seeing eye.

"That's right." Sunderbrandy sank back into his armchair. "Both you gentlemen and I were lucky to be here at this early hour. It has enabled me to secure a most interesting mission that will appeal to you." Lord Sunderbrandy's aged features now showed something like a hint of a smile. "Have the architects hand over your approved artifact for your new assignment. Your train leaves Kings Cross at half past eleven. You'll undoubtedly have plenty of time to read this information on the journey to your destination."

"And what exactly is our destination, sir?" Kaylee asked, her curiosity immediately getting the better of her.

Lord Sunderbrandy took another sip of his scotch and fixed the two men meaningfully before answering: "Your destination is the harbor of Whitby."

A little information for the curious:

¹) Architects: The scientific and technical expertise of the Order is gathered in the laboratories and workshops of the so-called Architects. These men and women are true luminaries in alchemy, chemistry, physics, biology, mechanics, and electronics. With the Order's financial and informational resources, the Architects design modern weapons, vehicles, and other mechanical or chemical marvels, not only for the fight against the creatures of the night.

 
Chamberlains: Every guild and even some larger lodges have a band of eager servants who all have one thing in common: They are all deaf and mute. They communicate exclusively via sign language with each other and the members of the order. Their duties include cleaning the guild/lodge premises and their contents, serving drinks and food in the Hall of Silence, preparing the same food, managing the cloakrooms, etc.