An old shell of a man sat before a large desk, looking younger by comparison. The delicate crevasses peppering the wood retained a youth that had long been lost to the older man, the creases on his face telling an ancient and a more fragile history. Warm sconces hung by string from the rafters, moving gently from a soft wind. Above all those lazed a chandelier strewn together from majestic antlers intertwining, supporting the low burning candles ground into the tips.

"Do you know how I got all those antlers," asked the older man. His finger pointed to the object above and behind him. The glow of flame twinkled in the mirrored light of his glasses and his gaze was planted on a Katharina who sat across from him.

A smirk pierced her complex and elegant face as she twirled a foul scented drink, yet neither of them seemed to mind the stench.

"I killed those stags over many years, not all at once," he barked.

The flames shuddered while his voice resounded against the tall walls of the sparsely adorned study. Katharina sipped her drink, gingerly setting it onto a mantle close by and gulped down the product. Her eyes never wavered from the old man before her.

"It would have been much easier to wait it out and kill them all at once," chided the woman.

"Silly girl, you have no idea what it takes to build something worth your time. You give it out to freely and you give into your cravings."

The glass lifted from its resting place coming to touch the woman's lips.

"And you're a bitter old man who's locked a hundred years behind the current time," she snaked. She sealed the speech by sipping on the strange liquid again, licking her lips after the pulp residue swam down her throat.

"A pity that Edward didn't receive the family gall," croaked the old man. "Instead, I have a daughter who will inherit my legacy." His spindly hands clasped in front of his crooked smile using the support of the arm rests by his sides.

"Make the most of it, dear father. I'm doing just that and look at how far it's taken me. Perspective is everything; I can let the oppressive, pompous, backwards looking men of my time determine what I see myself as or I can tell them to bugger off."

"They won't share your sentiment."

"Then they are as good as dead."

The halls remained still, a stillness that was all familiar to those who had served in this dreaded estate; Fairbank Manor. Upkeep had gone by the board replaced by a constant, maddening clamor that blared along time undivided. Little splotches of light cast their warmth inside the cold hall that the withering drapes could not fight, letting a small respite creep into the woman's mind. She shifted in her seat casting the glass into the fireplace sparking an eruption of flame, igniting the charred and grey wood.

"We both know why you summoned me here, father," said Katharina. "Why don't you show me."

"To think I could still hide things from you, my dear daughter."

The old man stood from his wheel chair with relative ease, adjusting his vest and shirt. The creases in his pants smoothed into perfection by the simple pass of his trembling hand. Katharina slowly rose from her seat following the soft, yet spry gate of her father away from the main doors. His hand rested near an old, decaying painting of a woman whose face had been lost to time. Scratches and discolorations hid her appearance, but the rest of her image remained intact. His moved to where her cheek was once captured, caressing the skin as if the person was still alive. Katharina craned her ear trying to make out the hushed mumbles of her father.

"You still treat it as if she's alive," mocked Katharina.

The hushed speech stopped and the old man's head turned subtly to the woman behind him, his hands dropping back to his side.

"She's out there somewhere. Your mother was a crafty woman."

The old man prodded something at the base of the paintings frame jolting a section of the wall to his left, into life. The materialized doorway swung open revealing a path ill-lit and covered in hanging cobwebs.

"Your castle in Austria is littered with these things," chided Katharina. "Do you hide all your secrets behind walls?"

"You don't know when to shut up," growled the old man.

The old man parted the webs in his path lighting sconces that were now becoming visible on the right side of the tunnel turned hallway. Each one flickered to life moments after the old man had passed and Katharina watched as he floated onwards.

"Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?" asked the old man.

Katharina shook her wits back realizing she had been staring and followed her father. The door closed behind her as she entered humming in a frequency like a dog whistle. The slits that denoted wall from door disappeared, sealing itself before her eyes. Glints of flame light traced against the bronze laced wall as she peered ahead of her hearing the clack of her father's shoes. She hurried after him down a cascading walkway that played tricks with her head.

The clack of polished shoes trailed before her for what felt like too long. The sound ceased and she stopped before a corner where rays of strong light danced across the bronze laced wall in a very strange pattern of oscillations. Katharina came around noticing her father standing before a machine with numerous fogged tubes that revolved around a structured center. Steam mixed with water and zaps of electricity probed both illuminating the insides of the tubes.

"I've sent you the blueprints back at the castle," said the old man. "You will continue our work until you hear from me again."