A/N: I don't own Hellsing, George Ripley, Alfred Lord Tennyson, or anything...well, I own a beat up laptop...


I shall you tell with plaine declaracion,
Where, how, and what is my generacion:
Omogeni is my Father,
And Magnesia is my Mother:
And Azot truly is my Sister:
And Kibrick forsooth is my Brother:
The Serpent of Arabia is my name,
The which is leader of all this game:
That sometyme was both wood and wild,
And now I am both meeke and mild;
The Sun and the Moone with their might,
Have chastised me that was so light:
My Wings that me brought,
Hither and thither where I thought
Now with their might they downe me pull,
And bring me where they woll,
The Blood of myne heart I wiss,
Now causeth both Joy and blisse:
And dissolveth the very Stone,
And knitteth him ere he have done;
Now maketh hard that was lix,
And causeth him to be fix.
Of my blood and water I wis,
Plenty in all the World there is.
It runneth in every place;
Who it findeth he hath grace:
In the World it runneth over all,
And goeth round as a ball:
But thou understand well this,
Of the worke thou shalt miss.
Therefore know ere thou begin,
What he is and all his kin,
Many a Name he hath full sure,
And all is but one Nature:
Thou must part him in three,
And then knit him as the Trinity:
And make them all but one,
Loe here is the Philosophers Stone.

The Bird of Hermes is my name,
Eating my wings to make me tame.

In the Sea withouten lesse,
Standeth the Bird of Hermes:
Eating his Wings variable,
And thereby maketh himself more stable;
When all his Fethers be agon,
He standeth still there as a stone;
Here is now both White and Red,
And also the Stone to quicken the dead,
All and sume withouten fable,
Both hard, and nesh and malliable
Understand now well aright,
And thanke God of this sight.

Take thou Phoebus that is so bright,
That sitteth so high in Majesty;
With his beames that shineth soe light,
In all places where ever that he be,
For he is Father to all living things,
Maynteyner of Lyfe to Crop and Roote,
And causeth Nature forth to spring;
With his wife being soote,
For he is salve to every sore,
To bring about thys precious worke;
Take good hede unto his lore,
I say to learned and to Clerk,
And Omogeny is my Name:
Which God shaped with his owne hand,
And Magnesia is my Dame;
Thou shalt verily understand,
Now heere I shall begin,
For to teach thee a ready way:
Or else litle shalt thou wyn,
Take good heed what I say;
Devide thou Phoebus in many a parte;
With his beames that byn so bright,
And thus with Nature him Coarte,
The which is mirrour of all light:
This Phoebus hath full many a Name,
Which that is full hard for to know;
And but thou take the very same,
The Philosophers Stone thou shalt not know,
Therefore I councell ere thou begin:
Know him well what it be,
And that is thick make it thin;
For then it shall full well like the.
Now understand well what I meane,
And take good heed thereunto,
The worke shall else litle be seen:
And tourne thee unto mikle woe,
As I have said in this our Lore,
Many a Name I wiss it have,
Some behinde, and some before;
As Philosophers of yore him gave.

On the Ground there is a Hill,
Also a Serpent within a Well:
His Tayle is long with Wings wide,
All ready to fly on every side,
Repaire the Well round about,
That the Serpent pas not out;
For if that he be there agone,
Thou loosest the vertue of the Stone,
What is the Ground thou mayst know heere,
And also the Well that is so cleere:
And eke the Serpent with his Tayle
Or else the worke shall litle availe,
The Well must brenne in Water cleare,
Take goog heede for this thy Fyre,
The Fire with Water brent shalbe,
And Water with Fire wash shall he;
Then Earth on Fire shalbe put,
And Water with Air shalbe knit,
Thus ye shall go to Putrefaccion,
And bring the Serpent to reduction.
First he shalbe Black as any Crow,
And downe in his Den shall lye full lowe:
Iswel'd as a Toade that lyeth on ground,
Burst with bladders fitting so round,
They shall to brast and lye full plaine,
And thus with craft the Serpent is slaine:
He shall shew Collours there many a one,
And tourne as White as wilbe the bone,
With the water that he was in,
Wash him cleane from his sin:
And let him drink a litle and a lite,
And that shall make him faire and white,
The which Whitnes is ever abiding,
Lo here is the very full finishing:
Of the White Stone and the Red,
Lo here is the true deed.

Seras Victoria put down the book, her mind blown.

"Whoa," she said, staring at the pages in front of her. All this had started as wondering just what the inscription on Master's coffin meant.

She hadn't expected anything like this.

Reading for your edification, Police Girl?

She jumped. "Master!"

Alucard stepped out of the shadows, his smirk on his face, the red velvet of his frockcoat masking his form. He had his hands tucked behind his back, his hat and glasses missing.

She stood up quickly, the book tumbling from her lap. She made a grab for it, but the Elder vampire caught it first.

He scanned the page, an eyebrow perking up as he did.

"Interesting," he murmured. "I didn't know Sir George Ripley was a favorite of yours, Draculina." He put the book down, still open to that page, pacing around her, eyeing her like a cat does a mouse. Seras tried to keep her eyes on him, but he moved quickly and fluidly, passing through furniture as though it were mist. "You know what they say about curiosity and the kitten, don't you?"

She began to sweat horribly. Was he threatening her for prying into his secrets? She remembered the last time he punished her, the still unfaded scars throbbing on her neck. She closed her eyes, her knees trembling.

She felt the book pressed back into her hands. She opened her eyes in time to see Master fading back into the shadows.

"It merely stuns the kitten, Police Girl."

She dropped to her knees with relief, feeling the carpet through the material of her stockings. After a moment, she got back up, smoothing out her skirt and replacing the book on the shelf. The last part of the scroll ran through her mind.

They shall to brast and lye full plaine,
And thus with craft the Serpent is slaine:
He shall shew Collours there many a one,
And tourne as White as wilbe the bone,
With the water that he was in,
Wash him cleane from his sin:
And let him drink a litle and a lite,
And that shall make him faire and white,
The which Whitnes is ever abiding,
Lo here is the very full finishing:
Of the White Stone and the Red,
Lo here is the true deed.

Was that why he bowed to the Hellsings? Fought on the side of Angels, as it were?

I might just tell you one day, Police Girl.

She grimaced as she remembered that her thoughts still weren't her own just yet.

But still, it would explain some things that didn't quite add up about what she knew about Master and what the stories told.

She reached her chambers and found a small piece of paper on her bed. She picked it up and read it, seeing Alucard's handwriting on it.

Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.

I'll have Walter inscribe this, if you'd like. It's about time you personalized your coffin, Draculina – A.

She sat on the bed and thought about the lines.

Maybe.