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Chapter Text

In the infinite expanse of the Astral Chaos, a young boy traversed the winding path that led to nowhere. Despite the fact that there were no walls as far as the eye could see, the sound of the boy’s footsteps echoed as though he were walking through an empty chasm. If there were any other beings close by, he wondered if the sounds of his boots meeting the weathered walkway rang loud in their ears as they did in his. 

Despite the fact that rogue flames blazed throughout the emptiness, the boy still observed his breath exiting his nose in small clouds. To mere mortals, a place like this was an enigma; a place of contradictions. But to the boy, this was the closest thing he had to home. He couldn’t remember a time before he was given sentience and a purpose here, among the debris and wreckage. He still wasn’t sure he liked the purpose he was given, but it was a purpose nonetheless. 

Even though this place was home to him, he stepped lightly as he drew his embellished white and blue cloak around his lean form. Every so often, he looked back over his shoulder and his heterochromic eyes, one red one blue, scanned to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Of course, he knew he could never truly hide anything from his creator. He simply hoped to avoid confrontation right now was all. If anyone had anything to say to him about his excursion, they could save it for later. 

Before long, his destination came into view. On a stone platform that was equally as weathered as the pathway surrounding it sat a disheveled knightley figure. He sat back turned with his head slowly bowed, as though he had nodded off. His once golden hair fell over his shoulders and down his back, and was caked with ashes, grime, and despair. Just past this knightley figure, a blue sword that appeared to be decaying was stabbed into the ground. The knight’s gauntleted hands were gripping the hilt, as though letting go meant falling into the abyss below despite being nowhere near the edge of the platform. 

The boy opened his mouth to announce his presence, but the knight’s threatening growl was the first sound to break the silence. “If you are another one of those wretched demon-children, you are unwelcome here. Leave!” the knight, Siegfried, said without turning around. The boy stood still for a moment and frowned. 

“If that’s what you want,” the boy spoke, his voice too low to belong to a child yet too high to belong to a man. Just as the boy was beginning to turn around, Siegfried lifted his head to try and look back over his shoulder. 

“Zwei? Is that you? I’m sorry, don’t leave,” Siegfried called back. The boy, Zwei, stopped and turned back to Siegfried before he moved to sit beside him. 

“It’s okay,” Zwei reassured. Though Siegfried was still gripping the sword, Soul Calibur, he seemed more at ease now. “I don’t blame you. Some of the others have a real way of getting under your skin. I just came to offer you company.”

A bitter breath passed from Siegfried’s nose. “Loneliness is the least of my concerns right now.” He frowned and looked at the ground before looking at Zwei. “But…thank you, I suppose.”

Many would find Siegfried’s words to be rude, or even ungrateful. But Zwei truly could not fault him for feeling the way he did. The man lost his father, his friends, and now his own autonomy. He was helpless to watch as his body was used to spread carnage and chaos, a mere puppet of the Cursed Sword Soul Edge. Perhaps that was why he was gripping Soul Calibur with such fervor. Protecting the Spirit Sword, the natural enemy of Soul Edge, from further corruption may have been the only thing Siegfried could do to feel like he had a chance at defeating that great evil. 

“If there was something more I could do to make things easier for you, I would,” Zwei tried to reassure as his gaze shifted from Siegfried to Soul Calibur. 

Siegfried scoffed. “In which sense? Surely you don’t mean releasing me. Afterall, me being at ease only means more compliance from me for that damned sword.”

Zwei didn’t know how to respond. Siegfried posed a question that caused him to reflect. He was also unsure which of the two he meant. He was sympathetic to Siegfried, but did that go above his purpose of serving Soul Edge?

“I don’t understand how someone like you could be working for the Cursed Sword,” Siegfried spoke after a long beat of silence. Zwei’s searching gaze moved back to Siegfried’s face, though Siegfried’s gaze remained fixed on the hilt of Soul Calibur. His tone was considerably more gentle than it was moments ago. Perhaps he felt guilty for his abrasiveness toward Zwei. Or maybe he was starting to understand that Zwei truly didn’t have bad intentions when interacting with him. “You aren’t like the other demon-children,” Siegfried continued. 

Zwei was silent for a moment before giving a passive shrug. “I don’t have much of a choice. It’s what I was created to do.”

Siegfried shook his head. “Everyone has a choice. You will always have a choice.” He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Trust me. For far too long have I been making the wrong ones. Don’t make my mistakes. Don’t blindly accept things as your fate. Your fate is what you make of it,” Siegfried finished. He looked over at Zwei and met his gaze, his icy blue gaze searching to make sure Zwei truly understood. Zwei pondered this for a brief moment before looking back at Soul Calibur and sighing. Such sentiments were nothing but fantasy for people like Zwei. Another long beat of silence fell between the two before Siegfried spoke. “Actually…there is something more you could do for me.”

Zwei looked back at Siegfried with curiosity. “...what is it?”

“Keep an eye on things for me in the physical plane. How my friends are faring. My mother.” Siegfried frowned and his gaze strayed to the side. “...the atrocities the sword is committing while using my body…” He looked back at Zwei. “Anything that you believe would be of interest to me. Be my eyes while I am trapped in here. And tell me about it all when you come to visit me next. Can you manage that?”

Zwei gave a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”

Zwei furrowed his eyebrows as he wandered the corridors of Ostrheinsburg Castle, lost in thought. Siegfried’s words played over and over in his head. Part of him found the idea of choice to be enticing. But the other, more rational side of him felt like Siegfried didn’t understand. Humans had free will from the moment they came into this life. People like Zwei, though, were brought into this life for one reason only. He was already worried that he was unable to fulfill that reason. What would it say about him if he completely abandoned that purpose?

He was brought back into reality at the feeling of his shin meeting an obstacle, causing him to stumble forward. Zwei was far from clumsy, and regained his footing with ease. The familiar giggle Zwei could only compare to a gnat beating its wings caused him to turn around, his eyes narrowed with annoyance. “What the hell did you trip me for?” Zwei demanded as he faced what appeared to be an empty hallway. “Come out, Acht, I know it was you!”

From behind the corner he had just passed, Zwei watched a petite girl with fair skin, short wavy hair as silver as his, blue and red eyes, robes like his own, and a moon shaped marking on her neck emerge. She let out another gnat-like giggle. “You’re no fun. I’m not the one who wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Humans didn’t have a word to describe the relationship between Acht and Zwei. The closest thing Zwei could think of was “siblings”, along with the rest of the children who served Soul Edge. Not that they all behaved like siblings. They simply shared the same progenitor, nothing more and nothing less. 

Zwei huffed and turned his back to Acht. “Leave me alone. Don’t you have Soul Edge fragments to collect or something?” he asked as he began to walk away, not caring to hear the answer to his question. Much to his annoyance, she followed after him. 

“All in due time,” Acht responded. She moved up to walk alongside him, matching her steps to his. “So, how have you been spending this fine evening?”

“None of your business,” Zwei said quietly. 

“Come on, you know I can just ask Inferno and he would tell me, right? You might as well save me the trouble and yourself the embarrassment,” she said, her voice filled with mischief. Zwei remained silent and continued walking, his gaze fixed ahead. After a brief moment of not being entertained, Acht sighed. “Fine, I’ll guess then.” She raised a finger to her chin and pretended to think. “Oh, I know! You went to visit Siegfried again! What did you two discuss?”

“None of your goddamn business,” Zwei growled, eliciting another giggle fit from Acht.

“Oh, Zwei. You know I am only looking out for you. Don’t let that sniveling human guilt you into visiting him.” Acht fell silent for a moment and Zwei could feel her impish eyes watching him. “Besides, you’re too weak and cowardly to do anything for him anyway.”

She was baiting him, but knowing that didn’t stop her words from hitting a nerve. Zwei stopped walking and took a deep, shuddered breath as he tried to calm himself. He refused to give her the satisfaction of him lashing out. She stopped alongside him and turned to watch him with a grin smeared on her face. 

“I feel terrible for Greatblade, to be honest. First, you make him do all the work when you go on missions together. And now, it comes out that you feel pity for Siegfried, when his sacrifice has brought Soul Edge so much power,” Acht said, her voice overflowing with amusement. If Zwei had blood, it would have been boiling. “Just what will Greatblade think when he finds out you actually tried to comfort and befriend the fragile fool? He already thinks you’re weak, just how much further can you fall in his eyes?”

“Tell him, I dare you,” Zwei responded with narrowed eyes. 

The grin on Acht’s face widened. “Greatblade is one of our best assets. It’s a shame his talent is being wasted on pulling your weight.”

Zwei’s hands clenched at his side before he turned his back to Acht. “Stay away from me,” he said in as calm of a tone as he could muster before walking off in the direction he had come in, his cloak billowing behind him. Thankfully, Acht didn’t follow him this time. Zwei made his way to his chambers and slammed the door behind him. He removed his cloak and allowed it to fall to the floor, then removed his boots and made his way over to his bed. He sat against the wall and stared ahead as he tried to calm his breathing. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when he entered his room and when he heard a knock at his door. 

“Zwei? May I come in?” He heard the familiar voice of his partner, Johan “Greatblade” Durer. Zwei immediately sat up before going to open the door. 

“Johan…” Zwei greeted him. Did that weasel actually go and tell him? “Is everything okay?” Johan put a gentle hand to the door as he tried to let himself in. Zwei did not resist, though he felt his face turn red when Johan eyed the cloak on the ground and his messy bed. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. I was just about to set off on a mission from Our Lord and I wanted to say goodbye before I did…” he explained before his hazel eyes moved to Zwei’s face, full of concern. “What about you? Is everything alright with you, my boy?”

“Yeah, I’m just fine,” Zwei sighed before furrowing his brows and looking away. Johan shook his head and gave Zwei a warm smile. 

“You forget, I was once a father to two teenage boys who were not unlike you. I have a knack for picking up on these sorts of things.” Zwei looked at him silently, still unsure if he wanted to talk about it or not. “Tell me what’s troubling you. Otherwise I will leave on my mission in suspense,” he chuckled. 

Zwei sighed before sitting on his bed. “It’s nothing. Just Acht being Acht again. Not knowing when to keep her big mouth shut or how to tell when she’s unwanted,” Zwei huffed. “I don’t get why she gets so much respect and praise, even from Nightmare himself. I can’t stand being around her.”

Johan nodded. “It is true, she is an…acquired taste, so to speak. She seems to know just what to say to perturb or vex whoever she is presently speaking to. But she is also a great asset for our cause. She has made great strides in preparing the scattered shards for harvest,” Johan explained. Zwei only nodded, his gaze directed at the floor. “I already know you don’t get along with her though. Is there something in particular she said that bothered you?”

Zwei hesitated for a long moment. His fingers loosely grasped the blanket beneath him before speaking. “...am I…holding you back, Johan…?” Zwei asked before finally looking up at his partner. Johan blinked before frowning. “Would you prefer to have a different partner over me…?”

“My boy…” Johan spoke in a soft voice. “What on earth could ever possess you to think I felt that way?”

Zwei reluctantly recounted the second half of his conversation with Acht, leaving out any details that pertained to Siegfried. Johan nodded before he looked to the side as he thought of what to say. 

“The way I see it,” Johan began before bending over to pick up the cloak that Zwei dropped on the floor, then moving to sit beside Zwei and wrapping the cloak around the boy’s shoulders. “Acht is envious of you.” Zwei looked at Johan with curiosity but said nothing. “Her statement about you being weak is objectively incorrect. I actually have it on good authority that you were created to be the strongest of your siblings.” Zwei’s eyes widened slightly at this revelation. “Having spent so much time with you, I wholeheartedly believe it,” Johan continued. “Not only in your innate ability though.” Johan pointed at his own temple. “You are also strong of mind. Anyone can exercise power. But only the strongest know how to exercise restraint the way that you do. If you shared your attitude and disposition with Acht…” A small breath passed through Johan’s nose. “Let’s just say that she would not give you as many problems as she does right now if that were the case.”

Zwei looked at the ground and thought about what Johan said. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t entirely sure how it could be possible, either. Zwei hated to fight, and he hated to transform, even though it came so easily to all the other children. He didn’t want to debate it though. Instead, he nodded before standing up. “If you say so,” he finally spoke. 

Johan stood up with him and put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s one more thing I want you to understand.” Zwei turned to face Johan. “Have you ever noticed that each malfested and their partner seem to reflect one another? Acht and Gabok both have very mischievous personalities. Vier and Curtis are both quiet and tend to keep to themselves. If that is true for us as well, then I could not have been gifted with a better partner, even if I got to pick one out for myself. If I was half as wise and strong as you are, that is all I could ask for,” Johan said with a smile before pulling Zwei in for an embrace. It was a foreign feeling for Zwei, for someone to show him physical affection. It caught him by surprise, and delayed him before he could think to reciprocate. He raised his slow, awkward arms and wrapped them around the older man in return before he felt himself relax. “I will tell you a secret that I have not shared with anyone else in this castle,” Johan said quietly as he held Zwei close. “I have faced much loss and grief as a human. Any and all family I had, my sons, all taken from me.” Zwei felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that it was the Evil Seed that took his sons from him. The same evil that took his sons was where Zwei came from. “Meeting you was the best thing to happen to me after all that loss.”

Zwei felt his eyes begin to sting. Crying was such a human thing to do, and yet Zwei was helpless against it. Johan pulled away and Zwei saw it on his face that he, too, had teared up. Zwei smiled and reached up to wipe away his own tears. “I’m…happy you feel that way. I’m happy to be your partner too.” Was the way that Johan looked at him now the same way he looked at his own sons before they were killed? Or was Zwei assuming too much of their relationship?

“Zwei, why don’t you come with me for this mission?” Johan asked after regaining his composure. 

Zwei frowned as he reached up to adjust his cloak around his shoulders. “Will I…uhm…” he began before trailing off. 

“No, no, you won’t have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. But it might be nice for you to get away for a little bit. Explore the world we are destined to dominate. It could be good for you.”

Zwei smiled before nodding. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Silence engulfed the Dumas estate’s salon. A young noblewoman was sitting on the sofa with her black-gloved hands neatly folded over her lap. Her scarlet hair was held up in neat curly pigtails that framed her downturned face, and her emerald eyes traced the elaborate patterns of the ottoman rug that accented the room. She was attempting to distract herself from the pit in her stomach that enlarged with each deafening tick of the timepiece hanging on the wall nearby. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not relieve herself of the images that flashed across her mind from her spine-chilling nightmare from the night before. Or perhaps there was a part of her that wanted to cling to those images; that wanted to find meaning in what she saw. What was that horrid monster that Raphael turned into? What could it all mean? She asked herself. She was never one for superstition. The idea of dreams having any sort of significant meaning, or the idea of anyone being able to interpret those meanings, was ludicrous to her. And yet a feeling of impending doom rattled throughout her whenever she thought about her dream. Something was going to happen, and her father, Raphael, was going to be at the center of it. The thought of it made her restless. 

Her gaze moved from the carpet to her left side, down to her sword. Its hilt rested against the sofa, with its blade concealed in an elegant leather sheath. The guard, which reminded the noblewoman of a four-pointed star, made the sword worthy of the name Raphael had given it: Albion, the Radiant One. She picked it up with her left hand and smiled somewhat, still in awe at how perfect it felt. She shouldn’t be surprised. Afterall, her father did have it specially made for her. And yet, with how little she had seen him over the past few years, warmth enveloped her at the thought that he still knew her so well. With her free hand, she removed the sheath and allowed the light from the window behind her to reflect off the blade. 

I hope the bond between us is never severed, Amy. Even when I am gone, this sword will keep us linked. I truly believe that. Amy reflected on the last words he spoke to her, the words he spoke as he gifted her with her sword. Amy had grown up to learn that she should never hope or expect a good outcome, and that in the end her hope would end in disappointment. It was times like this where she was tempted to fall back into her old ways of believing, and was tempted to write of Raphael’s unknown fate as a lost cause. But it was those words he spoke to her that made her want to take action, and fight for the best outcome. It amused Amy when she came to realize that he was the one who gave her the power to pursue her happiness. With this sword, and with all she had learned, no one was going to stand in her way. 

“Lady Amy?” A familiar voice rang from the hallway leading to the salon. Amy shot up off the sofa and placed her hands behind her back. She hoped that the width of her dark fuchsia dress was enough to hide the sword and its sheath from her governess’s sight. Moments later her governess, Maelys, appeared standing at the door of the salon. She wore her blonde hair in a tight bun and, much like the other female servants of the Dumas estate, wore a long blue gown and a white apron. 

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself upon observing Amy. Her eyebrows knit and her blue eyes looked the young woman up and down before she found her voice again. “What are you doing? What are you holding behind your back?” She asked as she approached Amy. Amy stood still and her eyes followed Maelys’s movement. 

“Nothing,” Amy said calmly. Maelys frowned and sighed when she saw the sword and sheath behind Amy’s back, then put a closed hand on her own hip before standing to face Amy. 

“Young lady, how many times have we talked about this? No weapons in the salon. This is a place of socializing and refinement, not swordplay,” she scolded before she crossed her arms. 

“I wasn’t practicing,” Amy replied. “I just…want to keep it near me, is all.”

Maelys sighed again and shook her head before turning to a nearby table to pick up a tray containing a cup of untouched hot chocolate, now completely cold. “You didn’t drink your hot chocolate?” Maelys asked before standing up straight and looking at Amy, who was sheathing her sword and setting it against the sofa once again. “I thought you loved hot chocolate.”

Amy was silent for a moment before sitting back down, smoothing out her skirt beneath her before she did so. She casted her eyes back down at the rug. “Raphael loves hot chocolate, too,” she said with a quiet voice. “I seldom got to see him, but whenever he was home, he made time to enjoy some with me. It doesn’t feel right to drink any while he is away,” she continued before she fell silent. A brief moment passed and a small smile formed on her lips before she looked back at Maelys, who had picked up the tray. “Perhaps that will be the first thing we do together when I bring him back. We can drink hot chocolate together.”

Maelys smiled in return. “That is a lovely idea, my lady,” she said as she walked to the door of the salon. “Speaking of which,” she said as she turned around to face Amy. “That's what I came to talk to you about. The preparations for your trip are complete. We can depart as soon as you would like.”

Amy stood up again, then reached for her sword once more and attached the sheath to a belt around her waist. “I would like to leave at once, then. But…” Amy frowned and thought for a moment. “I thought you said I would need a bodyguard in order to make this trip? Does that mean you found one?”

“That will be our first order of business,” Maelys assured. “We will head into town and recruit one from there, with your approval. Then we can be on our way.”

Amy nodded. “Alright.” She personally didn’t want a bodyguard. She had all the skills she needed to defend herself. But if this was the compromise she needed in order to find Raphael, then she was willing to meet her governess half way. “I will meet you at the carriage shortly, then.”

Chapter Text

The sun radiated its golden warmth over the empty French road. The only audible sounds for miles was the occasional rustling of the trees in the wind, the occasional melody of the birds flying overhead, and the constant gentle beating of horse hooves on the dirt path. The horse’s rider, Raphael Sorel, was in good spirits. His golden, chin length hair, and his red shoulder cloak bounced in time with his horse’s trot while his piercing blue eyes looked to the path ahead and to the future. 

Days had passed since his departure from the Dumas estate. Exhilaration coursed through him as he replayed his conversation with Azwel in his head over and over again. The idea of the nobles at each other’s throats with the help of Soul Edge. All his past enemies and political rivals reduced to mere beasts clawing for power they will never achieve. Perhaps his dog of a nephew, Nicola , would join them in their squabble. Raphael would be unrivaled and unopposed. He even considered putting himself in a position to gain the King’s favor as well. The former glory associated with the name Raphael Sorel was palpable. Only this time, that glory would be shared. All of that glory and power paled in comparison, though, to the life he had planned for his beloved daughter, Amy. With the power of the French military at his fingertips, anyone who even considered bringing harm to her would not live long enough to regret it. She would be beloved and celebrated as though she herself was the Dauphine. He would ensure that she never felt hungry or unsafe again. 

Raphael raised a gloved hand to his brow and looked up to gauge the time of day and  judged it to be past noon. He decided he would find the nearest town for food, provisions, and to allow his horse to rest. Not long after, he found a town and dismounted from his horse to lead it to a nearby tavern.

“Stop!” a booming voice yelled from across the marketplace, startling Raphael and calling his attention. 

A merchant at a bread cart was towering over a young boy, gripping the boy’s wrist with white knuckles. The boy was staring up at the merchant, wide eyed with dread. In his small hand was what appeared to be a loaf of bread. Raphael could immediately see what was going on and decided to get a closer look. 

“Hand over that bread, you filthy little rat,” the merchant sneered. The boy didn’t obey, and instead tried desperately to free his hand. The merchant was growing impatient and raised his hand to strike the child.

“Wait!” Raphael called as he approached the merchant and the child. He reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins. “There’s no need for that,” he said as he held the coins out to the merchant. 

The merchant directed his attention to Raphael and eyed him for a moment with annoyance. “This little rat has made a habit out of stealing from me,” the merchant explained. “I say he needs to be taught a lesson,” he said as he turned back to glower at the child, eliciting a whimper from him. 

Raphael knit his eyebrows and continued to hold the money out. “But monsieur, I have given you a solution where you can both be happy.” His free hand moved to the sheath of his rapier on his belt. With a small click, he flicked his thumb to expose the base of his blade. “Surely it would not be worth it to you for you to escalate.”

The gesture from Raphael struck fear into the merchant, if the worried look in his eye was anything to go by. He looked from Raphael’s blade back up to his serious gaze and, without breaking eye contact, released the child’s arm. The child stumbled back two steps before finding his footing again, then stood up straight and massaged his newly freed wrist. 

“Y-...your generosity won’t be forgotten, monsieur,” the merchant said before he reached out a cautious hand to accept the money. Raphael knew they were empty words fueled by cowardice and fear and could not suppress an unimpressed eye roll. He re-sheathed his sword and watched as the merchant moved back to his bread cart before turning his attention to the child. His expression gentled and he got down on one knee. 

“Are you hurt?” he inquired, his voice filled with sympathy. For a brief moment, he had been transported back to that fateful day back in Rouen, when Amy had been a beggar not unlike this child. He watched from the shadows that day just what sort of abuse she had suffered at the hands of those much bigger than her. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice and allow this child to be hurt. 

The child looked at Raphael with familiar suspicious yet curious eyes before giving a silent shake of his head. Raphael smiled slightly before standing, though not taking his eyes off the child. 

“Where are your parents?” he asked the boy.

The boy looked off to face the road before responding with a quiet “This way.”

Raphael followed the boy toward the run down corner of town, careful not to trip on the cracked and weathered cobblestones that poked out of the ground. He felt the stares of the impoverished residents of these streets, likely wondering what someone with such refined clothing and obvious wealth was doing in a place like this. Did these people also have slumlords who bullied them out of what little they had? Did these people also feel as though hope had abandoned them the way Amy had all those years ago?

The boy led Raphael to an alleyway and left his side to join a tired looking woman with grime smeared on her face and caked in her long, unkempt hair. She was sitting on an old, torn blanket on the ground and clutching a small bundle to her chest as she eyed Raphael with confusion. Raphael could only guess that she was holding a small infant. Her gaze moved from Raphael to her son, who handed her the bread he had won from the merchant. She smiled and drew him close before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. At least he has someone to watch over him, Raphael thought to himself. 

For a moment, Raphael stood still in contemplation before finally down to the family’s level and reaching into his jacket. He produced a pouch filled with money, about half of what he brought for this trip. He handed the pouch to the woman and smiled. “Take good care of them,” he said in a gentle whisper. The woman gave a grateful smile before accepting the pouch. 

Raphael made his way back to the tavern and, after eating, stocking up on provisions, and making sure his horse was fed, had resumed his travels. A brief sense of fulfillment washed over him as he reflected on his time in the town before he was once again left alone with his thoughts of world conquest. 

Evening fell hours later and Raphael decided to set up camp for the night. A fire was soon lit and Raphael faced it as he ate his modest dinner of bread, cheese, and dried meat that he had bought earlier that day in town. The flames of his campfire crackled a symphony which accompanied the fire’s ballet that glowed across the ground in front of him. He found himself wondering what Amy was doing at that particular moment. When he closed his eyes, he pictured her sitting by the fireplace in her chambers, warmed by a flame not unlike this one. Maelys was sitting behind her and used her gentle hands to undo the beautiful pigtails Amy likely had worn that day before helping her settle into bed. The two engaged in idle conversation that Raphael was not creative enough to some up with in his vision before Maelys blew out the candle on Amy’s nightstand and left her to sleep. Raphael was grateful for Maelys and everything she had done to help Amy grow up into the young woman she was now. Perhaps there would be room to keep her close after he was done creating Amy the perfect world. 

“You played quite the philanthropist today, my dear Raphy,” said a familiar, mischievous yet melodic voice from across the fire. Raphael looked up and met Azwel’s enigmatic emerald eyes. The flame’s light danced across his pale face, his long purple hair and neatly braided beard, and his elegant blue and gold robes. A few days ago, his sudden appearance would have startled Raphael. He’s since learned to accept that it was simply Azwel’s way to come and go as he pleased, unannounced. 

“I couldn’t help it,” Raphael responded before his eyes moved to watch the flames. “They reminded me of Amy.”

Azwel chuckled. “You will hear no judgment from me, my friend. Your capacity for sympathy is so deliciously human.” Azwel paused for a moment and shifted in his spot. “I have to wonder, though, what could Amy possibly have to do with common paupers?”

Raphael eyed Azwel for a moment as he contemplated disclosing such personal information. The man had already proven to be the perfect partner for this endeavor. However, given the nature of this endeavor, being that it will result in much bloodshed, both from Raphael’s enemies and from those who will serve as sacrificial lambs, Raphael felt it most appropriate to keep Azwel at arm’s length. 

“It was on cobblestone roads just like those that I came to meet her,” Raphael said, deciding that that was all Azwel needed to know. “Perhaps a part of the new world I will create will eradicate the swine who dare to oppress the impoverished.”

Azwel listened while idly stroking the braid of his beard. “One step at a time, Raphy. Our first order of business if procuring Soul Edge. We can go from there.”

“Of course, I can always start small now,” Raphael said, thinking out loud. “Being a count, I could start with my land and work my way outward. I have the power to gather my own military and garner support for my cause,” he explained before a small smile spread on his lips. “And to crush those who oppose it.”

The line between Azwel’s lips thinned at the suggestion before he gave an exasperated sigh. “Look at the trends of history, Raphy. Power obtained through military strength isn’t guaranteed to last.” He stood up and moved to sit beside Raphael before putting his arm around Raphael’s shoulder. “My dear comrade, look at you. You are a strong, sensible, and capable man. You are destined for so much more than simply ruling over a countship with an iron fist.”

Raphael’s gaze focused on the fire for a moment and contemplated his comrade's words before a separate fire erupted inside his chest, his motivation to continue on with his mission for conquest reignited. He nodded his head with confidence. “You’re right. I will forge a new world. And may God have mercy on any man who tries to get in my way.”

A pleased grin spread across Azwel and he removed his arm from around Raphael before chuckling. “Excellent.”

Chapter Text

“W-...where’s Lucius when I need him?” Cassandra asked between grunts as she struggled to carry large sacks of flour into the family bakery. Sophitia suppressed an endeared laugh as she watched her sister scurry to the corner of the room from where she stood behind the counter, accepting money from a patron in exchange for the freshly baked pastries their family was famous for.

“Have a good evening!” Sophitia called as the patron exited the bakery before turning her attention to Cassandra. “I asked him to watch the kids for a while while we close up for the night,” she responded as she moved to the door of the bakery to close and lock it. She removed her apron and smoothed out her white and blue dress before reaching back to undo her now messy, hip-length braid so that she could neatly remake it. 

Cassandra set down the sacks with a relieved huff before standing back up and wiping her hands on the apron that covered her orange dress before reaching up to wipe the sweat off her brow with the back of her wrist. “Lucky,” she said with a lighthearted grumble before turning around to face her sister, her blonde ponytail and her white ribbon gently flowing back behind her. “I call babysitting duty next.”

Sophitia smiled before shaking her head. “I’m sure they would love that. Almost as much as I’m sure you would love to shirk your bakery duties.”

Cassandra frowned slightly before rolling her eyes. But a small child’s shriek interrupted her before she could protest. The sisters both looked at each other with alarm. 

“That sounds like Patroklos. Come on,” Sophitia said before the two sisters dashed out the back door of the bakery and outside to where Lucius was watching the children play. Lucius was down on one knee and hugging a crying three-year old Patroklos to his chest while he sat on his uncle’s knee. 

“Pyrrha, no hitting. Look, you made your little brother cry.” Lucius scolded in a gentle yet stern tone. Pyrrha was standing with her arms crossed and her back turned to her uncle. Lucius’s attention moved from his niece to his sisters as they approached him.

“Lucius, what happened?” Sophitia questioned. 

Lucius opened his mouth to respond but Patroklos spoke up first. “P-...Pyrrha hi….hit me!” he sobbed. 

Sophitia frowned and turned to her daughter. “Is this true? Why would you do tha-...?” Sophitia questioned before trailing off. Her cerulean eyes looked around the yard searchingly before a small frown formed on her eyebrows. 

Cassandra looked at her sister with questioning eyes before turning her attention back to her niece and nephew. 

“Patroklos tried to take my friend from me,” Pyrrha responded in a dark tone without turning around. 

“Your…friend?” Cassandra asked. 

“Mama said you have to share!” Patroklos yelled through his tears. 

“No, it’s mine! You can’t have it!” Pyrrha yelled back. Cassandra noted out of the corner of her eye that it appeared as though Sophitia was ready to faint. Patroklos sprung out of his uncle’s lap and lunged at Pyrrha before pulling at whatever it was she was hoarding away. Lucius was quick to try and separate them but not before Cassandra caught a glimpse at what was causing these normally well behaved and sweet children to act so erratically. Her heart felt like it had stopped momentarily when she saw them arguing over a glowing red shard that emanated an energy she hoped she would never feel again. 

“Give me that!” Cassandra said before grabbing it from them both and inspecting it in her hand, front and back. With a frown, she looked at Lucius. “Where did they get this from?”

Lucius stood up and frowned before taking it from Cassandra to inspect it himself. “I…don’t know…” he responded as he tried to wrack his brain. Their attention soon shifted to Sophitia, whose legs had given out from underneath her. “Sis!” Lucius called, dropping the shard and quickly moving to catch her before she fell to the ground. The children, having calmed down after the shard was taken from them, moved to their mother’s side with worry in their eyes.

Cassandra knelt down and picked up the shard and stared at it in disbelief before looking up at the sky. Were the gods watching? Were they amused?

Chapter Text

In the forest surrounding the Rhine river, a young woman with pale skin and tattered green attire adorned with feathers skipped with glee. Her gauntleted hand kept her bladed ring securely slung over her shoulder so as not to injure herself. Her teal and raven colored hair held in stiff pigtails bounced with each step. 

“What should we do first after we get the sword?” the woman said to herself. Her tone was light and whimsical, as though her voice belonged to a child. 

“We have to focus on how to get the sword first,” she responded back to herself. This time, her tone was serious. “That Nightmare guy is no slouch. I mean, did you see all that carnage? If we aren’t careful, we could end up like all those people he killed. We have to have a strategy for how we do this.”

“Aw!” she whined, her childlike tone returning. “You’re no fun!”

She sighed. “You’re so rash sometimes, you know that?”

“I thought I heard a familiar voice,” a new voice spoke. The woman stopped and watched as a man in armor, braided hair, and an elaborate golden mask covering his entire face crossed her path. “It’s been a while, Eiserne Drossel.”

Hearing that name in reference to herself, the woman’s blood began to boil and her skin began to crawl. She whipped her bladed ring off her shoulder and held it in front of her with the blades pointing at the masked man. “How do you know that name? Who are you?!”

A maniacal laugh erupted from behind the man’s mask and the woman was taken aback. “Our time together was many things, Eiserne Drossel, but I didn’t think unmemorable was one of them.” He reached up to remove his mask. His face was riddled with scars and mutilation. A gaping hole took the place of one of his eyes. The grotesque sight would send chills down the spines of most, but the woman was unphased. He met her pale purple eyes with his remaining crimson eye and after a moment, she came to understand how it was that he knew her by her former name. 

“Solnhofen,” she said after a beat of silence. She did nothing to mask the disgust she felt now that she faced her former unit leader. “I’ll give you five seconds to run. If I don’t kill you first, you tell the Urvogel that I will personally perform sky burials for every assassin that he sends after me. I’m not coming back to the Birds of Passage. Eiserne Drossel doesn’t exist anymore.”

Solnhofen replaced his mask over his face. “A tempting offer. But you should know I am no longer associated with the Birds of Passage. I serve a higher power now.”

“You found God?” she scoffed. “A bit late for you, don’t you think?”

“Not God.” She could hear Solnhofen grin behind his mask. “The Azure Knight. When he marches on the world, I will be one of the generals at his side,” he boasted. 

“Oooh!” The woman’s disposition shifted from cynical to spritely. She lowered her ring blade and stood up straight. “Is he as amazing as they say he is?!” 

Solnhofen stood for a moment and gave her a silent stare. “What happened to you, Eiserne Drossel?” 

Her spritely disposition vanished and was replaced by her former wrathful one. “If you don’t want me to carve out your other eye, you won’t call me that again. It’s Tira.”

“Hm, Tira,” Solnhofen tried out the name before nodding. “A fitting name.”

“I didn’t ask,” Tira huffed. “Anyway, I’m guessing you know where I can find Soul Edge.”

Solnhofen sighed and shook his head before crossing his arms. “Do you mean to tell me you want it for yourself?”

“Why not?” Tira asked with a childish tone. “With my artistic vision, I know I can put it to good use! Just imagine all the towns I can paint red with it,” she said before smiling. 

“Soul Edge doesn’t work that way,” Solnhofen said. “The man in Nightmare’s armor is nothing more than a flesh marionette being puppeted by Soul Edge. He doesn’t get to experience any of the carnage he spreads. And isn’t that what it’s all about?”

Tira considered this for a moment. What he was saying matched up with what that man in the white hood had said to her earlier. If that was the case though, then what was she to do? She didn’t want to risk becoming a puppet, but there was no way she could forgo the kind of devastation that something like Soul Edge would allow her to spread. 

“Of course,” Solnhofen began to speak again before raising a finger up to his chin. “I can think of something else that might interest you. Soul Edge needs supporters and people to carry out its bidding. I assure you that the role will be everything you seek and more. And you will get to work alongside The Azure Knight himself.”

The offer was tempting. However, Tira was all too familiar with how people viewed her when she worked in a group. The Birds of Assassin treated her like she brought bad luck and misfortune. How could she be sure this offer was going to be everything that Solnhofen promised it would? And yet, Solnhofen himself was one of the people who believed she brought bad luck and he was the one who was making the offer to her. 

Tira’s serious tone returned. “Show me the way.”

Solnhofen moved to join Tira, who followed after him as he led her to Ostrheinsburg Castle. There was a heavy silence between them before Tira’s curiosity got the better of her. “So…what happened to your face?”

Solnhofen was silent for a moment before responding. “On the night of the Evil Seed, the other members in our unit decided it was too risky to keep me alive so they decided to try and kill me then and there. They thought they had succeeded, and they almost did.” He held up a hand and looked down at it before closing his fist. “But part way through their sky burial ritual, Soul Edge’s power began coursing through me, and gave me another chance to overpower them.”

Tira nodded as she listened. That must have all happened after she made her escape on that same night. She had used all the commotion as a cover to slip away undetected. 

“When I was human, I might have given them all sky burials after that night. But the ways of the Birds of Passage mean nothing to me now.” Solnhofen gave a dark chuckle. “All those who have betrayed me have been slaughtered and mutilated beyond recognition.”

The story exhilarated Tira. She wasn’t sure what he meant when he said “when I was human,” but she knew one thing. She needed access to that same power.

Chapter Text

Candle lights flickered off the walls of a laboratory deep in the cellar of a mansion in London. Stacks of books and texts were scattered across the ground. A woman with short white hair and a muted lilac nightgown sat on a chair at the center of the maelstrom with a book in her hand. Her eyes, as cold and blue as ice, scanned over each word with restless fury. She had stopped keeping track of time long ago. How long had she been down in this dark, windowless room, unrelentingly pouring over the vast array of scientific and alchemical texts? A few hours? A day? She only looked away to occasionally look at the door to the laboratory, half expecting her mother to enter, her dark hair in a neat bun and her fist resting on her hip, over her elegant, neatly pressed green dress.

“Isabella, darling, please come back and rejoin the rest of society. Sitting in a laboratory all day and reading by candle light can’t be good for your eyesight,” she used to say. This mansion brought back so many fond memories, memories that Isabella, who now went by Ivy, didn’t deserve to have. She would never have returned to the mansion she grew up in if it weren’t for the vast sea of knowledge that her father had kept in his laboratory. Surely something in here could tell her how to remove the curse that Soul Edge had sent coursing through her veins from the moment of her heinous conception. The fact that the parents who raised her were not the ones who brought her into this world still did not feel real. But that paled in comparison to the discovery that she was truly the daughter of the dread pirate, Cervantes de Leon. The former wielder of Soul Edge, who only wanted a child in the first place to be the heir of the cursed sword. It was the sort of truth that made Ivy uncomfortable in her own skin, and made her stomach churn. There had to be a way for her to rid herself of this curse, and for her to rid the world of the plague that was Soul Edge. 

A twinge of strain caused Ivy to tightly shut her eyes, then raise her fingers up to massage them. “Damn it,” she said in a whisper to herself. Perhaps her mother had been right all along; she should not have been reading for so long by candle light. With a sigh, Ivy marked her page and shut the book in her lap before placing it on the table next to her chair. She stood up and stretched her arms above her head before sliding her feet into her slippers and heading up the stairs. Once upon a time, this mansion would have had servants tending to the house and the Valentine family’s every need. It was unfortunate that her father had spent so much money on his alchemy that he could no longer pay to have them. As a result, the mansion Ivy walked through now was void of life. 

Ivy held a candle up as she walked to the kitchen. With her other hand, she swept a finger across a table in the hallway and inspected the dust that had collected on her finger. Part of her was tempted to take time to clean the whole property and restore it to what it once looked like, back when times were simpler. But another part of her wondered what the point was. Ivy had committed so many atrocities, so blinded by her goal of resurrecting her father that she couldn’t tell that she was directly fueling the very power she had sought to destroy. A clean home wasn’t going to cleanse her of all the sins she had committed. 

For as big of a kitchen as the mansion had, it was almost completely void of any food. Most of the food in it had spoiled by the time Ivy had returned home. She kept a small store of food for herself, but admittedly, she could not bring herself to eat anything now. Instead, she put water in a kettle on the stove and settled for making herself tea. At least it could help her stay awake so that she could continue to look for answers. She moved to stand by the window while she waited for the water to boil. Judging by the position of the moon, it was likely sometime between midnight and dawn. Ivy felt tired, but she knew that sleep would not come easily to her. Her mind was more cluttered than her laboratory. 

Ivy cursed herself. How could she have been such a fool as to fall for such obviously empty promises? How could she have allowed empty promises to compel her to commit such unspeakable acts? In the end, she learned the nature of the man who sired her. But was she really better off now after having learned all that she had? What could she possibly do with all that formation? And what if she actually had been able to resurrect her father? What would he think of her, after she spilt so much blood just to get him back? He would be so ashamed. The moonlight reflected off the single tear that glided down her cheek. 

Her moment of reflection was cut short when the sounds of boiling water crackling against the hot iron of the stove broke the silence. Ivy quickly moved back to the stove and removed the kettle from the stovetop. She removed the lid and added in tea leaves and allowed them to steep before pouring her tea into a cup and adding honey. The tea was a nice distraction. For a moment, she was brought back to her childhood, when she would beg her mother to let her have tea as well. Her mother warned her that, even with honey, it was bitter. But Ivy didn’t care. She suppressed the urge to make a face after the first sip. The chance to get to enjoy tea with her parents outweighed any bitter taste it left in her mouth. Had she done something to deserve this fall from grace? Or was it simply the destiny of a child sired by Soul Edge to walk down a path void of redemption?

Ivy made her way down to the laboratory once again. Upon her arrival, her sword, Ivy Blade, seemed to snap to attention. Ivy looked at it with disdain. How many lives were lost because of that sword? But who was the one wielding the sword? Who was the one who commanded the sword to take those lives? Ivy reminded herself. Four years prior, the creation of this blade, and the alchemical ingenuity and sorcery that it took to make it obey her every whim, were her crowning achievements. But now, after all the despair she had taken part in spreading, Ivy wanted nothing more than for a door to hell to open up and consume it. 

Ivy picked it up from where it sat on the workbench and inspected it in her hand. After taking a deep breath, she allowed the blade to slice her palm. With the blood that seeped out of the wound, she used her finger to draw an alchemy circle on the wood of the workbench, all the while reciting ancient chants from a language no longer spoken. Once the circle was complete, she laid her sword across it and took a step back. Ivy searched the floor for the appropriate book and opened it before reciting a spell that would empty the sword of any supernatural powers it possessed. The alchemy circle began to glow, and the glow died down when the spell was over. But the sword sat untouched, and shifted like a confused dog awaiting its master’s orders. Ivy gave it an incredulous stare for a long moment, unsure why her spell hadn’t worked. 

She gave a stubborn huff and raised her hand before trying again. She was met with the same results. Frustration began to bubble inside her and she turned her attention down to the book. Perhaps I’m not doing it correctly?

Every key element needed to execute the spell was present. However, there was one element listed that Ivy was stuck on. It wouldn’t work if she possessed any doubts. Ivy looked around the laboratory until she landed on a knife. If she couldn’t dismantle it with alchemy, she would have to make due with what she had available to her. After grabbing the knife, she approached the Ivy blade with the knife raised above her head. 

Her arms refused to obey her command. She couldn’t bring herself to strike the sword which had obeyed her with such unyielding loyalty; the sword that had been her only companion since her mother and father had passed. Ivy’s eyes began to sting and her grip on the knife weakened. It fell to the floor with a clatter and Ivy choked out a sob as she collapsed to the floor, onto her hands and knees. Her sword was a constant reminder of her faults and mistakes, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do away with it. 

Her sword sensed her distress and shifted on the table before lowering itself down to the ground beside its master. In an attempt to comfort her, it slipped itself into her hand. Ivy calmed herself with a shuddered breath and sat up. She inspected her sword with dejection in her eyes and numbness in her heart. 

“Ivy blade,” she said, speaking to her sword. “There is only one purpose that we could serve in this world.” Her voice was void of emotion. She stood up again before stroking the flat edge of her sword’s blade. “There is only one fate for people like me, who have committed the unspeakable horrors I have. There is no redemption.” Ivy paused for a long moment before silent tears once again began streaming down her cheeks, contrasting her stoic expression. “From this day forward, you will be known as Valentine blade. And together, we will cleanse this world of all souls touched by Soul Edge. My own included.”

Chapter Text

Amy and Maelys traveled in silence for the majority of their trip. Amy was not a talkative person to begin with, however it struck Amy as odd that even Maelys found little to say. Then again, what even was there to talk about with such a dire mission at hand? The sun had begun to set. Amy's pigtails bounced with the movement of the horse-drawn carriage as she stared down at the rapier in her lap. A foreboding shadow gnawed at her heart as she thought back to the night Maelys found her unconscious in the forest. That dream...what was it...? If only she could recall the contents of her dream, perhaps then she would have a better idea of what was causing this sense of impending doom. The harder she tried to remember, the louder the sounds of stones being rolled over by the carriage and the rustling of the trees became. She began to sink, and the sea of noise, anxiety, and distractions threatened to drown her. 

"Maelys?" she finally called out. 

"Yes, m'lady?"

"I need to stretch my legs. Let's stop here for a while to eat."

The carriage was stopped and the two unloaded their supplies onto the grassy field off the side of the path. Maelys instructed Amy to stay by the horse while she went to find wood to burn for their fire. Being alone now, Amy decided to pass time by practicing her fencing skills. Her blade cut through the air as she danced across the plain and already, her heart and mind were more at ease. These steps that Raphael had taught her brought her comfort like nothing else could. It was moments like this, when she was practicing them, that he didn't feel as far away as he truly was. 

"Such exquisite form! Bravo!" a new voice said from behind her. Amy turned around to point her sword at the newcomer, and found an elderly man in an old cloak standing at the end of her blade. He held his hands up for her to see. "Oh, forgive me for startling you, young lady."

Amy frowned somewhat before lowering her blade. "You should know better than to walk up behind to someone with a sword in their hand.  I suggest announcing yourself," she said before her hands both fell to her side. She looked him up and down, taking in his tattered clothes and unkempt gray hair and beard. A beggar... "I haven't any money if that is what you want."

"Money?" the beggar said before shaking his hands. "No, no, I want nothing of the sort." He brought his hands down, then hid them behind his back. There was an unsettling mischief in his eyes that Amy felt as though she had seen before, but she couldn't place where. "I have been traveling a while and had hoped a kind young woman such as yourself could spare some provisions."

Amy looked off in the direction Maelys had left in, then looked back at him. "If you wait, my governess should be along soon," she said with hesitation in her voice.

"I'm afraid waiting is out of the question, I have important business to attend to in the next town over and I mustn't be late," the man said with a pronounced sigh. What business would a beggar possibly have to attend to? An insistent reluctance grew inside her and the line between her lips thinned. She glanced back at the path Maelys had taken. The man was oddly eccentric for a beggar. 

"I suppose I should simply carry on, then," the man said. Amy looked back at him, unsure how to respond. "Thank you anyway, young lady. It will be late when I arrive." he sighed again. "Surely there will be an innkeeper with food scraps to spare who will allow me to stay a night." 

Amy remained silent as he began to walk to the path and her eyes followed him. He paused and turned back with a smile. 

"A word of advice to you," he began. "No matter what goals you may have in life, never stop trying to achieve them." He turned back around to face the path. "Those who seek stasis must never cease their step." He began to walk off. 

Amy's eyebrows raised. That phrase again...

"Wait," Amy said, her mouth moving on its own. The man stopped and looked back without a word. Amy felt her face warm in embarrassment. She couldn't begin to explain why it was she wanted the man to stay. There was something off about the man, and normally she would have been more than relieved to see him leave. But her curiosity took hold. "I...might have something to give you..."

The man smiled and turned back around fully to face her. "Splendid." He wasted no time making himself comfortable on a small boulder as he watched Amy rummage through their belongings. On a small cloth, she brought out pieces of cheese and jerked beef to share, though making sure there was enough for herself and Maelys leftover. 

"Such generosity is rare to find these days," the man said as he accepted the food. 

Amy had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the platitude. "That phrase you said," she said. "Where did you hear it?"

"Those who seek stasis must never cease their step," the man repeated. It sent chills down Amy's spine. "A phrase coined by a scholar of the future, whose name tragically has been lost to history." 

Amy gave a small huff through her nose. "His works must not have been of much importance if we don't remember his name."

"It sounds to me like you are familiar with the phrase," the old man pointed out. "You will find his influence in the most unexpected of places." Before Amy could ask what he meant by that, the old man continued. "How does a refined young woman such as yourself find herself all the way out here?"

Amy kept quiet. It was really no one else's business why she was out or where she was going. Then again, what if he knew something that could help her? "I am looking for my father," she finally explained. She paused and allowed her gaze to wander to the side. "...I don't suppose you've seen him, have you? Rather tall." Amy held her hand up to illustrate before it fell back to her side. "Blond hair, blue eyes, wields a rapier, answers to the name of Raphael..."

The old man frowned and thought for a moment before shaking his head. "My apologies, I can't say that I have."

Amy sighed and lowered her gaze. She knew it would be unlikely that he knew anything, but that didn't make it any less disappointing to hear. 

"However," the old man spoke up, beckoning Amy's attention once more. "I might have something that could help you."

One of her eyebrows rose. Something feels...wrong... "...what is it?" she asked in spite of herself. 

A grin grew one his lips and he held out an empty hand. He passed his other hand in front of the first and to Amy's shock, where there was once nothing in his hand now sat a glass orb that glowed purple. Fear coursed through her veins at the sight of it. I've seen that before...but where...? She couldn't pry her eyes off of it. 

"This is Quattuor Orbis," the man explained. "With it, you can see the future, including where your Raphael will be." He smiled at the orb endearingly before looking up at Amy. He held it up to her. "Please accept this gift, as a token of my appreciation for your hospitality."

Amy glanced down at his lap, where his food remained uneaten. Something was most definitely wrong. Yet she found herself unable to resist accepting the orb. She winced and held it out at arms length before slowly bringing it closer to inspect. It glowed in a different pattern now that she was holding it, as though it was reacting to its new master. 

"...And...how exactly does this work...?" Amy questioned before looking past the orb. 

The man was gone, leaving behind the cloth with cheese and beef she had given him. 

"M'lady?" Amy heard a familiar voice echo from afar. "M'lady," the voice repeated. Amy felt a hand shake her shoulder. "Lady Amy."

Amy stirred and her eyes fluttered open to find Maelys crouched beside her, looking down at her with concern. Amy sat up off the grass and closed her eyes. Her head was spinning.

"Thank goodness," Maelys asked after giving a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"

Amy frowned and opened her eyes, then began looking around her. She reached for her rapier and inspected it before she looked around again. The purple orb...

"Where is...?" Amy began to ask as her gaze bounced around her surrounding. The orb was nowhere to be seen, and yet the same energy she felt from it still enveloped her.

"Is something the matter, M'lady?" Maelys didn't seem to feel that anything was different.

Was it all...just a dream...?

After have eaten a quick meal, they made their way over to the next town and stopped at an inn. Maelys had no trouble falling asleep in their shared room. Amy had no such luck. She stared at the ceiling from where she laid in her bed as she thought back on earlier that day. The more she thought about that man, the more and more her skin began to crawl. If there was one thing Amy knew like the back of her hand, it was how beggars behaved. Though she couldn't put her finger on what it was, there was something strange and unsettling about that man and how he behaved. 

Though they were now far away from where they had stopped to rest, Amy still felt the presence of the glowing purple orb. What had he called it? she thought to herself. Quattuor Orbis?

Like a hound responding to its name being called, she felt the orb's presence shift. The more she thought about it, she realized that the man hadn't been holding it when he arrived. It seemed as though he had pulled it out of thin air. Amy sat up in her bed and closed her eyes to focus. Pushing down any feelings of apprehension she had, she focused on the feeling of the orb's presence around her, then held out her hand. The orb felt just out of reach, as though it could be pulled closer. She was unsure how to accomplish that task. Ignoring how silly she felt, she held out her other hand before her as though there was a string to grab. She then pulled her hand toward herself. A faint glow prompted her to open her eyes. In her hand, once again, was the purple orb from before. She looked over her shoulder, curious if the gentle purple light was disturbing her governess. Maelys was still fast asleep on the floor of the room. 

Amy looked back and the orb and stared at it intently. The old man's words rang in her ears. With it, you can see the future, including where your Raphael will be. Dream or not...perhaps this was the miracle she had been praying for. Perhaps now, things would finally look up. And yet, Amy couldn't deny the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The man hadn't given her his name. He didn't tell her where he was from, though his German accent gave her a good idea on its own. More importantly, he neglected to tell her where this orb had come from, or what sorcery fueled it.
Surely something like this couldn't just be used without any sort of risk. Perhaps...if I just use it as a last resort... Surely there was no risk to simply having it with her, right? Amy made a pushing motion with her hand and commanded it to hide once again. With the room now blanketed in a comfortable darkness, Amy decided to lay down and try to sleep. 

The next morning, Amy and Maelys sat together in the tavern to eat breakfast. Maelys was stiff where she sat, not comfortable with the commoners that walked in and out of the building for breakfast. Amy didn't mind. The hustle of the maids and the chatter of the other patrons made for an interesting display. Amy enjoyed how relaxed everyone seemed to be as they ate and socialized. 

"Today, we should prioritize stocking up on provisions and finding you a bodyguard," Maelys said. 

Amy huffed. "I still don't understand why you think we need one. I can defend myself just fine," she insisted. 

"That was the deal," Maelys asserted. "You were not to leave the estate unless you promised to find a bodyguard." The line between Amy's lips thinned and she looked to the side begrudgingly. "It was a mistake for me to leave you all alone yesterday without one. Who knows what might have happened?"

"I'm fine though, am I not?" Amy responded. Out of the corner of her eye, one particular patron caught her eye. A man with an eyepatch in a hooded cloak sat on the other side of the room and was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Amy looked back at Maelys in an attempt to ignore him. "What could a bodyguard do that I couldn't do on my own?"

"Lady Amy," Maelys sighed. "Please try to understand. I just want you to be safe. Not to mention, we wouldn't want to worry the young master."

Amy glanced back at the other side of the room and shifted where she sat when she realized the man was still watching her. Maybe she needed a bodyguard after all. "Fine," Amy conceded. "But I will only accept a bodyguard who is a better fighter than I am."