Let us dance: The tale of Raphael Sorel
Chapter 1:Hesitation.
One mistake. That was all it had taken. One tiny miscalculation was all that was needed to cause his downfall. Raphael Sorel stumbled down the back alley of Versailles quietly. Once one of the most powerful and respected nobles in France, Raphael had made many enemies in his schemes for power and ambitions for knowledge. Too many, perhaps. Maybe that was his first mistake. I should have known. he thought bitterly. The people I stepped on during my way up were the people I had to face on my way down. He swore. Grimy bastards, they shouldn't have taken any of it personally. It was just politics. And politics were always ruthless. He had shown himself to be particularly good at it, cold, conniving, ruthless.
Not that he had never failed. There had been plenty of set-backs. Too many to count. Unlike his opponents however, a failure was not another person to swear vengance again. He would not give the man who wronged him another thought. It was just politics after all.
Just like it was now. He had been the winner before, and now he was the loser. But damned if I'm going to be the loser twice. Raphael thought. He turned out the winner a few more times before just recently, but at great price.
He looked at Flambert, his fine family sword. The perfectly balanced sword made with folded steel was at the moment stained with the blood of several musketeers. Within the hour, the charges against him would include murder as well as conspiracy.
Not that he cared. Either way, he would be rotting in the bastille to the day he died. Only if they caught him though, and no matter what, that would not happen. He would kill the king himself if he had to do it. He had not become one of France's most well-known names by letting simple aspects such as morality get in his way. Pathetic ideals were for peasants who believed that their king would guide them rightly.
They were peasants though, unknowing that the kings divine right was not to guide his people but to guide himself to glory and fame. Raphael himself had been no exception. He once had the ambition to cause so great a tumult in france that no one would ever forget his name. Fame: that was true power. To be remembered for eons to go to be revered by some, feared by others. True immortality lied not in any elixer of fountain of youth, but in a name.
All those ambitions were gone now. He would satisfy for survival at this point. Even that seemed slim. Raphael had another trait that had gotten him to the top;determination. That was his key to survival now. He would just need to find a small hovel to hide in until he healed, then he would flee the country, and start anew. Perhaps Germany, for the civil war there could certainly bring him new profits and power.
For a moment, his blue french blood was saddened at leaving his home. All his life, he placed himself in the glory of the french and it's people. He quickly pushed those thoughts away. Survival came first. Patriotism was for fools who could not the see the greater picture.
As Raphael was beginning to. He was beginning to realise that he would need some serious help. It wouldn't be long until someone greedy for money or some noble found him limping down this dirty alley.
He couldn't take anymore. He fell to the ground with a grunt. The last thing he remembered seeing was a peasant girl walking out of her house.
Raphael awoke again, feeling somewhat better than before. "Am I dead then?" Raphael asked himself. "I suppose that this hell then." Raphael moved to stand up, then felt a sharp pain in his stomach. "No, I am most certainly still alive."
Right then, a red-headed girl ran to him. "No, don't get up!" she said. "They're coming." Raphael recognized her as the girl he had seen before passing out, and certainly needed no explanation as to who 'they' were. The people chasing him were nearby. "Get under the covers." she whispered before leaving him.
Raphael then heard the door being kicked open. "Girl!" a man barked. "Have you seen a swordsman? We're searching for a swordsman dressed like a noble."
"N-no." the girl said, sounding both frightened and unconvincing.
"You're lying." the interrogator accused. "You've seen him."
"No I haven't!" the girl replied, sounding on the verge of tears.
"You have!" the angry reply came. "Tell me where or I'll cut your stomach open!"
the girl then burst into tears. "Okay." she said, crying. "He was hear awhile ago, he stole food from me and left towards Paris. He threatened to come back and kill me if I told anyone."
Raphael hung onto every word, all the while praying. Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
"That's what happened, is it?" the man asked.
Till kingdom come, thy will be done...
"Y-yes." the girl continued. "Please...go away."
on Earth as it is in heaven. Forgive us our trespasses...
"Very well, girl." the man said. "Something for your troubles. The good lord knows you could use it." Raphael heard gold fall onto the floor.
as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the power, the kingdom, and the glory for ever, Amen.
"That was close." Amy said. "They're way gone now. You can come out sir."
"Who are you?" Raphael demanded of the small red-head.
"I'm Amy." she said.
"Any last name?" Raphael inquired. Amy shook her head. "Well then Amy, why did you help me? You do know you would have gotten more than that insubstantial bauble had you turned me in."
"I know." Amy said. "But the police were chasing you, so I couldn't let a good guy like you go to the bastille."
"Good person?" Raphael said, resisting the urge to chuckle at the girl's naievete. "I believe you are mistaken. I am a very bad person."
"No, you're a good person." Amy said with a tone of finality. "If you weren't, the police wouldn't be chasing you. So, who are you?"
"Raphael." Raphael said, and was about to reveal his last name before pausing and realizing the idiocy of doing such a thing. Furthermore, he realized the stupidity of revealing his first name to this girl. Even if she wasn't likely to do the nobles any favors, he doubted he should parade his name here.
"Any last name?" Amy asked, mocking his tone.
Raphael chuckled. It was an odd. He had not laughed out of pure humour in a long time. "Not anymore. So do you have any parents?"
"No." Amy said. "A few years ago, some noble had them put in the dungeon for stealing food for me." The bitter tone she used was unmistakable.
An odd feeling came over Raphael. He felt sympathy, sadness, and shame, the final of which he had never felt before. For all he knew, it could have been him who had put this girl's parents to a life term in the dungeon. He may not have, but no matter what, one thing was clear.
He owed his life to this girl. He would repay that debt, no matter what.
"How's your wound?" Amy asked, pointing at Raphael's bloody sash.
"It does hurt." Raphael admitted. "I should be fine in a day or two though."
"That's good then." Amy said. "Where are you going to go after that?"
"I don't know." Raphael admitted. "I probably can't stay in France. Perhaps I shall go to England. My english is decent enough that I could pass as one of them." Raphael looked at Amy. "Amy, would you like to come with me?"
Amy looked shocked. "W-why?"
"Mademoseille, you saved my life." Raphael informed. "I am in debt to you, and I always repay my debts."
"Always?" Amy asked.
Raphael grinned. "Well, I've never been in anyone's debt before. Shall you come with me?"
Amy nodded. "I'd love to. Even if you think you're a bad person, I know you're a good one."
At the moment, the were the best words Raphael had ever heard.
In the end, Raphael decided it prudent to hide in France until attention was drawn away from him. He had decided to stay in a country villa in southern France.
"Whose house is this?" Amy asked.
"A former buisness associate of mine." Raphael said evasively.
"Former?" Amy asked. "Former how?"
"He decided that it was no longer in his interests to allow to live." Raphael explained. "He tried to kill me. He reciprocated. To draw attention from his death, I had a servant I knew loyal to me act in his stead."
"Oh." Amy said stoically. Raphael was amazed as always at her ability to accept the truth so easily. She was such a strong girl. It was no wonder that she had survived peasant life in France.
How he admired her. Such a fiery and powerful child. Had little Amy been born into a noble family she would become one of truly great in french history. How he wished the world were different.
He was broken out of his contemplation by Amy's voice. "Raphael...sir? I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes, little one?" Raphael said. "What is it that you wish to ask?"
"Ummm...I don't have a papa anymore." she said."And you took me with you. Does this mean that... you're going to be my new papa?"
Raphael was both surprised and overjoyed. For all her intelligence, for all her strength, she was still a young, parentless child. He did not hesitate in answering the girl for a moment.
"Of course, Amy." Raphael replied, unhesitatingly. "You shall be my daughter."
"Thank you, Papa!" Amy said, embracing Raphael. Raphael had never felt emotions as these. Love, debt, call it what you would, Raphael realized he would do anything for this girl.
Raphael through the library. "The evil seed..." Raphael murmered to himself. "The lord here knew something about it. That was why he tried to kill me." Most of the books though were scriptures, English plays, and greek tragedies. There seemed no sign of any Evil Seed. "He knew where it was..." Raphael muttered to himself.
He growled and threw a book to the floor. "But the knowledge taken to a grave does me no good!"
He continued searching several days, eating and sleeping minimally, and pausing only to care for Amy. There was no point in creating the world she wanted if he neglected her.
After three days, Raphael found something. Hidden behind a collection of bibles was a small, beat up journal.
"What this?" Raphael said, taking the leatherbound book gingerly and blowing off the dust. He read the only entry.
Soul edge. The ultimate weapon. It will be the sword that ensures France's victory as soon as it is in the hands King Louis. Also, the only item that can guarantee my station in lineage. I only fear one factor:Raphael Sorel. He is power-hungry and if he finds out of my journey as I do not doubt he will, my quest and all of France will be lost. I am going to kill him tonight. Even if I die in the process, I would rather have Soul edge undiscovered than in the hands of that bastard Sorel. My resources have told me of people who know of the sword's location in Peking, China.
Raphael turned the page, and pressed in between the two pages was a red stone. Was this what he thought it was? He grasped the stone and felt it's power and understood imeadiately.
The greatest way to complete Amy's desires was to use this sword. He would re-create France with the Soul Edge.
"Forgive me, father. For I have sinned." Raphael said, sitting in the confession booth reverently. "My last confession was two months ago."
Raphael then heard a familiar voice. "Is that really you? Raphael?"
Raphael was stunned for a second. "Brother Jamesis?"
"It is Father Jamesis now, dear friend." Jamesis replied. "I thought you were dead."
"So did I." Raphael said with a chuckle. "Father, I would like to know what the church knows about soul edge."
"Oh...dear me." he said. "The sword of the devil?"
"Is that what it truly is?" Raphael asked.
"In a manner of speaking." Father Jamesis explained. "Follow me."
Raphael followed the priest towards a stained glass window of the catheral."This is a depiction of the battle between the archangel Gabriel and Satan." Raphael nodded.
"I have heard the stories." Raphael confirmed.
"Yes." Father Jamesis replied. "After the battle, Satan left the heavens of course. When the battle was over, Soul Edge grew from the spot it was created and fell to earth. It is the ultimate weapon, and can be used for either great deeds or pure evil." Then Jamesis gave a forlorn look on his face. "Unfortunately, there has never been a record of the Soul edge being used for a pure intent."
"Then I shall be the first." Raphael declared.
Jamesis' face became pale. "Don't tell me you are going to search for it yourself!"
"Indeed." Raphael said.
"But do you know why it is called the sword of the devil?" Jamesis demanded. "Countless demons hunt for it! It's impossible!"
Raphael's rapier came out from it's sheath. "They also said defying the musketeers was impossible."
"But this is beyond human ability!" Jamesis cried.
"You forget one thing." Raphael replied. "I'm Raphael Sorel. Saavy?"
Jamesis realized that he could not win this arguement. "Very well, Lord Sorel."
"I do have a favor to ask of you." Raphael said.
"Anything, old friend." Jamesis said.
"My foster daughter is staying at the local castle." Raphael explained. "I'd leave the servants to take care of her, but I cannot trust them. Please watch over her, Jamesis."
"Of course." Jamesis said, partially shocked that his friend had adopted a child. He didn't think his friend possible of such an action. Before, Raphael had worked with efficient ruthlessness and cruelty. Now, he was speaking compassionately of someone who the Raphael he knew would think beneath him.
"When I return, I shall have a new sword." Raphael explained. He left the church, determined to grasp the handle of Soul edge.
A grand, insane plan was brewing in his mind- all for the sake of a young girl.
End Chapter 1.
Chapter 1:Hesitation.
One mistake. That was all it had taken. One tiny miscalculation was all that was needed to cause his downfall. Raphael Sorel stumbled down the back alley of Versailles quietly. Once one of the most powerful and respected nobles in France, Raphael had made many enemies in his schemes for power and ambitions for knowledge. Too many, perhaps. Maybe that was his first mistake. I should have known. he thought bitterly. The people I stepped on during my way up were the people I had to face on my way down. He swore. Grimy bastards, they shouldn't have taken any of it personally. It was just politics. And politics were always ruthless. He had shown himself to be particularly good at it, cold, conniving, ruthless.
Not that he had never failed. There had been plenty of set-backs. Too many to count. Unlike his opponents however, a failure was not another person to swear vengance again. He would not give the man who wronged him another thought. It was just politics after all.
Just like it was now. He had been the winner before, and now he was the loser. But damned if I'm going to be the loser twice. Raphael thought. He turned out the winner a few more times before just recently, but at great price.
He looked at Flambert, his fine family sword. The perfectly balanced sword made with folded steel was at the moment stained with the blood of several musketeers. Within the hour, the charges against him would include murder as well as conspiracy.
Not that he cared. Either way, he would be rotting in the bastille to the day he died. Only if they caught him though, and no matter what, that would not happen. He would kill the king himself if he had to do it. He had not become one of France's most well-known names by letting simple aspects such as morality get in his way. Pathetic ideals were for peasants who believed that their king would guide them rightly.
They were peasants though, unknowing that the kings divine right was not to guide his people but to guide himself to glory and fame. Raphael himself had been no exception. He once had the ambition to cause so great a tumult in france that no one would ever forget his name. Fame: that was true power. To be remembered for eons to go to be revered by some, feared by others. True immortality lied not in any elixer of fountain of youth, but in a name.
All those ambitions were gone now. He would satisfy for survival at this point. Even that seemed slim. Raphael had another trait that had gotten him to the top;determination. That was his key to survival now. He would just need to find a small hovel to hide in until he healed, then he would flee the country, and start anew. Perhaps Germany, for the civil war there could certainly bring him new profits and power.
For a moment, his blue french blood was saddened at leaving his home. All his life, he placed himself in the glory of the french and it's people. He quickly pushed those thoughts away. Survival came first. Patriotism was for fools who could not the see the greater picture.
As Raphael was beginning to. He was beginning to realise that he would need some serious help. It wouldn't be long until someone greedy for money or some noble found him limping down this dirty alley.
He couldn't take anymore. He fell to the ground with a grunt. The last thing he remembered seeing was a peasant girl walking out of her house.
Raphael awoke again, feeling somewhat better than before. "Am I dead then?" Raphael asked himself. "I suppose that this hell then." Raphael moved to stand up, then felt a sharp pain in his stomach. "No, I am most certainly still alive."
Right then, a red-headed girl ran to him. "No, don't get up!" she said. "They're coming." Raphael recognized her as the girl he had seen before passing out, and certainly needed no explanation as to who 'they' were. The people chasing him were nearby. "Get under the covers." she whispered before leaving him.
Raphael then heard the door being kicked open. "Girl!" a man barked. "Have you seen a swordsman? We're searching for a swordsman dressed like a noble."
"N-no." the girl said, sounding both frightened and unconvincing.
"You're lying." the interrogator accused. "You've seen him."
"No I haven't!" the girl replied, sounding on the verge of tears.
"You have!" the angry reply came. "Tell me where or I'll cut your stomach open!"
the girl then burst into tears. "Okay." she said, crying. "He was hear awhile ago, he stole food from me and left towards Paris. He threatened to come back and kill me if I told anyone."
Raphael hung onto every word, all the while praying. Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
"That's what happened, is it?" the man asked.
Till kingdom come, thy will be done...
"Y-yes." the girl continued. "Please...go away."
on Earth as it is in heaven. Forgive us our trespasses...
"Very well, girl." the man said. "Something for your troubles. The good lord knows you could use it." Raphael heard gold fall onto the floor.
as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the power, the kingdom, and the glory for ever, Amen.
"That was close." Amy said. "They're way gone now. You can come out sir."
"Who are you?" Raphael demanded of the small red-head.
"I'm Amy." she said.
"Any last name?" Raphael inquired. Amy shook her head. "Well then Amy, why did you help me? You do know you would have gotten more than that insubstantial bauble had you turned me in."
"I know." Amy said. "But the police were chasing you, so I couldn't let a good guy like you go to the bastille."
"Good person?" Raphael said, resisting the urge to chuckle at the girl's naievete. "I believe you are mistaken. I am a very bad person."
"No, you're a good person." Amy said with a tone of finality. "If you weren't, the police wouldn't be chasing you. So, who are you?"
"Raphael." Raphael said, and was about to reveal his last name before pausing and realizing the idiocy of doing such a thing. Furthermore, he realized the stupidity of revealing his first name to this girl. Even if she wasn't likely to do the nobles any favors, he doubted he should parade his name here.
"Any last name?" Amy asked, mocking his tone.
Raphael chuckled. It was an odd. He had not laughed out of pure humour in a long time. "Not anymore. So do you have any parents?"
"No." Amy said. "A few years ago, some noble had them put in the dungeon for stealing food for me." The bitter tone she used was unmistakable.
An odd feeling came over Raphael. He felt sympathy, sadness, and shame, the final of which he had never felt before. For all he knew, it could have been him who had put this girl's parents to a life term in the dungeon. He may not have, but no matter what, one thing was clear.
He owed his life to this girl. He would repay that debt, no matter what.
"How's your wound?" Amy asked, pointing at Raphael's bloody sash.
"It does hurt." Raphael admitted. "I should be fine in a day or two though."
"That's good then." Amy said. "Where are you going to go after that?"
"I don't know." Raphael admitted. "I probably can't stay in France. Perhaps I shall go to England. My english is decent enough that I could pass as one of them." Raphael looked at Amy. "Amy, would you like to come with me?"
Amy looked shocked. "W-why?"
"Mademoseille, you saved my life." Raphael informed. "I am in debt to you, and I always repay my debts."
"Always?" Amy asked.
Raphael grinned. "Well, I've never been in anyone's debt before. Shall you come with me?"
Amy nodded. "I'd love to. Even if you think you're a bad person, I know you're a good one."
At the moment, the were the best words Raphael had ever heard.
In the end, Raphael decided it prudent to hide in France until attention was drawn away from him. He had decided to stay in a country villa in southern France.
"Whose house is this?" Amy asked.
"A former buisness associate of mine." Raphael said evasively.
"Former?" Amy asked. "Former how?"
"He decided that it was no longer in his interests to allow to live." Raphael explained. "He tried to kill me. He reciprocated. To draw attention from his death, I had a servant I knew loyal to me act in his stead."
"Oh." Amy said stoically. Raphael was amazed as always at her ability to accept the truth so easily. She was such a strong girl. It was no wonder that she had survived peasant life in France.
How he admired her. Such a fiery and powerful child. Had little Amy been born into a noble family she would become one of truly great in french history. How he wished the world were different.
He was broken out of his contemplation by Amy's voice. "Raphael...sir? I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes, little one?" Raphael said. "What is it that you wish to ask?"
"Ummm...I don't have a papa anymore." she said."And you took me with you. Does this mean that... you're going to be my new papa?"
Raphael was both surprised and overjoyed. For all her intelligence, for all her strength, she was still a young, parentless child. He did not hesitate in answering the girl for a moment.
"Of course, Amy." Raphael replied, unhesitatingly. "You shall be my daughter."
"Thank you, Papa!" Amy said, embracing Raphael. Raphael had never felt emotions as these. Love, debt, call it what you would, Raphael realized he would do anything for this girl.
Raphael through the library. "The evil seed..." Raphael murmered to himself. "The lord here knew something about it. That was why he tried to kill me." Most of the books though were scriptures, English plays, and greek tragedies. There seemed no sign of any Evil Seed. "He knew where it was..." Raphael muttered to himself.
He growled and threw a book to the floor. "But the knowledge taken to a grave does me no good!"
He continued searching several days, eating and sleeping minimally, and pausing only to care for Amy. There was no point in creating the world she wanted if he neglected her.
After three days, Raphael found something. Hidden behind a collection of bibles was a small, beat up journal.
"What this?" Raphael said, taking the leatherbound book gingerly and blowing off the dust. He read the only entry.
Soul edge. The ultimate weapon. It will be the sword that ensures France's victory as soon as it is in the hands King Louis. Also, the only item that can guarantee my station in lineage. I only fear one factor:Raphael Sorel. He is power-hungry and if he finds out of my journey as I do not doubt he will, my quest and all of France will be lost. I am going to kill him tonight. Even if I die in the process, I would rather have Soul edge undiscovered than in the hands of that bastard Sorel. My resources have told me of people who know of the sword's location in Peking, China.
Raphael turned the page, and pressed in between the two pages was a red stone. Was this what he thought it was? He grasped the stone and felt it's power and understood imeadiately.
The greatest way to complete Amy's desires was to use this sword. He would re-create France with the Soul Edge.
"Forgive me, father. For I have sinned." Raphael said, sitting in the confession booth reverently. "My last confession was two months ago."
Raphael then heard a familiar voice. "Is that really you? Raphael?"
Raphael was stunned for a second. "Brother Jamesis?"
"It is Father Jamesis now, dear friend." Jamesis replied. "I thought you were dead."
"So did I." Raphael said with a chuckle. "Father, I would like to know what the church knows about soul edge."
"Oh...dear me." he said. "The sword of the devil?"
"Is that what it truly is?" Raphael asked.
"In a manner of speaking." Father Jamesis explained. "Follow me."
Raphael followed the priest towards a stained glass window of the catheral."This is a depiction of the battle between the archangel Gabriel and Satan." Raphael nodded.
"I have heard the stories." Raphael confirmed.
"Yes." Father Jamesis replied. "After the battle, Satan left the heavens of course. When the battle was over, Soul Edge grew from the spot it was created and fell to earth. It is the ultimate weapon, and can be used for either great deeds or pure evil." Then Jamesis gave a forlorn look on his face. "Unfortunately, there has never been a record of the Soul edge being used for a pure intent."
"Then I shall be the first." Raphael declared.
Jamesis' face became pale. "Don't tell me you are going to search for it yourself!"
"Indeed." Raphael said.
"But do you know why it is called the sword of the devil?" Jamesis demanded. "Countless demons hunt for it! It's impossible!"
Raphael's rapier came out from it's sheath. "They also said defying the musketeers was impossible."
"But this is beyond human ability!" Jamesis cried.
"You forget one thing." Raphael replied. "I'm Raphael Sorel. Saavy?"
Jamesis realized that he could not win this arguement. "Very well, Lord Sorel."
"I do have a favor to ask of you." Raphael said.
"Anything, old friend." Jamesis said.
"My foster daughter is staying at the local castle." Raphael explained. "I'd leave the servants to take care of her, but I cannot trust them. Please watch over her, Jamesis."
"Of course." Jamesis said, partially shocked that his friend had adopted a child. He didn't think his friend possible of such an action. Before, Raphael had worked with efficient ruthlessness and cruelty. Now, he was speaking compassionately of someone who the Raphael he knew would think beneath him.
"When I return, I shall have a new sword." Raphael explained. He left the church, determined to grasp the handle of Soul edge.
A grand, insane plan was brewing in his mind- all for the sake of a young girl.
End Chapter 1.