(A/N): A new character or two is going to be added here, sometime late in the chapter.

RrRrRrRrRrRr

Days, it had been four miserable days since Raphael discovered that Amy had fled the house. His eyelids were swollen and purple, his face a color so pale even a ghost would look twice. He lacked the consideration to take care of his hair, and it showed, tangles and mats beginning to form near the ends. Sadness, anger, self-abhorrence, and an endless fountain of doubt and regret poured from his being as Siegfried would scour the nearby lands on his horse, even traveling into Paris to look for her. When he would return from the day's search empty handed, Raphael would only despair further, and weep through the night until he cried himself to sleep by dawn. By the fifth morning, however, Siegfried had grown tired of his host and friend's childish behavior, and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Marching up to Raphael's chambers, Siegfried, dressed in his full plate, polished to gleam like a silver platter, threw open the heavy, oaken doors with little care for what happened to them. His face was contorted with irritation as the shimmering knight stomped toward the cumbersome, velvet curtains, woven thick to block any and all light from the room. As he cast them open, Siegfried turned his back to the sun that shone through, every facet on his armor shining like its own star; or, perhaps, a drop of dew, to be more accurate, concerning the time of day. The sunlight, having made contact with Raphael's weary form, made him twist, hissing and spitting in pain, as though he were some sort of cat born from Hell and promptly doused with holy water. "Wake, du verdammter Idiot!*" With his locks glowing in the sun and such a furious expression, one may have mistaken Siegfried for some sort of avenging angel, so it was no wonder that when Raphael opened his eyes, he fell from his bed. (*Wake, you damned idiot!)

"Ai!"

Rolling his eyes at the nobleman's clumsiness, Siegfried strode to the side of the bed Raphael had fallen from, hefting him from the mess of sheets and blankets he had entangled himself in. Even though Siegfried was shorter, he certainly didn't seem it at that point, his gauntlet-plated hands gripping Raphael by the underarms and lifting him far above the knight's head before plopping him to the bed again, this time on his rear end. Raphael barely managed to recover without falling over himself, scrambling away, even with the morning light that glimmered through giving him much discomfort. "What iz wrong wit' you?"

"De fact d'at you cannot even gazzer de nerve to march into Paris wit' me and find Amy!" Siegfried roared at him, spreading his arms like he was opening the doors for Raphael to choose a new path. "You know she saw Tira run to de city, and if she vould be anyvhere, d'at is vhere she vould go! You, Raphael, should know your daughter so vell you could spot her in a crowd of millions. You already can svay her much more readily than I, so ve need not scare her.

"Aside from d'at, you are her fadder, Raphael," Siegfried continued, shaking his head slightly, "To send odders to fetch her for you is simply cowardice, and Amy vill see d'at. She vould never respect you again."

Even Raphael, who was known for having nerves of steel, began to slowly back away from the heavily armored knight as he was pummeled with accusations of duty and expectations. Feeling that he was reaching the other side of his bed, Raphael stopped, realizing that he had no more room to work with. He sighed and lowered his head; he felt defeated from each and every possible angle, and that there was no way for him to win. Even if Siegfried could convince him to search together, what was the point? It wasn't as though the two of them would be able to find one girl searching throughout all of Paris, would they? The chances were almost nil, and they would most likely cause a scene- two nobles, one of them a knight, of foreign origins no less- and Amy would notice, and flee the area. But, he considered the fact that they had a chance at all, compared to none. After all, it was certainly a higher likelihood than when he went on his escapades for Soul Edge and Soul Calibur. Standing up, Raphael conceded. "Oui, I will follow. But, at least let me make myself presentable, eh? Not even ze beggairs would look up to me like z'is..."

AaAaAaAaAaAa

The morning shone warmly onto her face, and with a yawn and a stretch, the youth stood to greet the next lonely day with a neutral expression. Dusting herself off, she made a short examination of the feathered hem of her clothes; a sigh escaped her lips as she noted a broken quill. Snapping off the dangling down, Amy held her cloak tightly as she trotted down the street, her dainty legs barely showing at all from under the cloak, tunic, and fishnet. The only thing that showed gave any sense of foreboding about her was the tip of the rapier that was visible, hanging to her knees, bobbing up and down with each and every one of her light and airy steps.

In spite of the fact that she was in the slums of Paris, surrounded by nothing but beggars, thieves, murderers, and lecherous criminals of every kind, their leering eyes lingering on her childish form a few seconds too long to be without perverse thought, Amy felt as though she was in a cheerful mood. Even the sun and its damnable, enervating rays could not extinguish the warm happiness that held its ground beneath her tingling skin. Her step, although somewhat sprightly, had a relaxed, idle air to it, as though she wished to savor the energy put into every footfall. A girlish swing of the hips, a playful skip, even the occasional twirl; she was obviously enjoying herself.

But what, exactly? It would just so happen to be that Amy was taking great pleasure in the nostalgia of returning to her first home; although she was not in Rouen, the setting was strikingly familiar, what with the similar sort of populace and architecture, not to mention the sensation of complete and utter freedom to do as she pleased. No pére to tell her what to do, no servants to dress her for breakfast and luncheon and supper and bedtime, and no guests to be forced to respect. The world revolved around what she could do and influence on her own, no matter how big or small.

A loud growl was heard, and a vibrating sensation was felt in the center of her torso. Stopping suddenly, Amy realized that she hadn't eaten for days, and at this rate, she would starve to death, being too weak to even retrieve the weakest of prey. She was teetering on the direction of her fate at the moment, and to linger on the choice any longer would prove deadly. Making up her mind on the spot, Amy whisked away into the nearest alleyway and disappeared into the shadows, seen by any of the passerby as no more than a flash of ebony and a hint of skin. The shadows kept her from the harmful sun's brightness, bestowing upon her almost instantly a small amount of strength, just enough to pick up speed. She knew of a small gang of thieves that resided nearby, a group no larger than five, and a few she suspected to be away, looting the pockets of pedestrians. Stopping at a corner, pressing her back against the grayish-red brick, she drew Albion and listened intently. The voices of two could be heard- a man and woman, or perhaps a young boy- talking about yesterday's pool of money, and complaining how it had been divvied. They drew nearer, steadily, which Amy favored, for it gave her better opportunity to determine when to strike. She waited... and waited...

And attacked!

Although compared to how she would have performed at full strength under the watch of the pale face of the moon she was sluggish and sloppy, Amy still caught the two off guard, her stiff, wickedly sharp blade piercing the nearest, the man, in the chest. The slender man's lung was punctured, and Amy held the weapon between his ribs for one excruciating moment, baring her pointed teeth and opening her scarlet eyes, letting her gaze meet his own dying one before dropping him to he ground as though he were a sack of grain. Turning to the other thief, who happened to be a young woman, no more than Tira's age, Amy lunged, twirling like a trained dancer as she grazed the tip of her blade against the woman's face. Despite the fact that the blow was mostly cosmetic, it was that she landed it with such skill that struck fear into the opposing thief. The thief drew her weapon, a lengthy dagger,although it seemed to be in more of a defensive position than anything else. Another leap toward her foe, and Amy swung vertically at her with inhuman ferocity, knocking the dagger from her hand. Landing, she made a thrust, her rapier piercing the thief's left shoulder, the pain bringing the woman to her knees. Just as Amy was about to deal a deathblow, she heard the man behind her cough, sputtering a large amount of blood before whispering, "...Vampire..."

The word caught her attention and she whipped in his direction, fangs gritting together in irritation. "Tais-toi, imbécile!*" she screeched at him as she stomped at him, frustration slowly burning through her veins. (*"Shut up, fool!")

Driving the heel of her boot into the man's cheek, grinding the bones into chips and dust, she did not notice the departure of the female thief, her anger and attention far too occupied by the brutality of her treatment towards the thief that was still in her grasp. Finally, she decided to end his miserable existence, and gripped the man by his broken jaw; with the limited strength she had, both as a girl and as a weakened vampire, she could only heft his torso from the cobblestone, and had to kneel before sinking her teeth into the warm flesh of his neck. He was unable to scream as her jagged, toothy maw ground into his throat, the hot blood running down both her chin and his shirt. It was within only a few minutes that the man's face was even paler than her own, and he collapsed to the ground, dead. He would be unable to rise again, his body too damaged and drained to continue any sort of cursed life.

Licking her chops and wiping them clean with her sleeve, Amy stood, a certain flushed color to her face that had been absent before. She knew it would be temporary, but it would last her the day, unless she were to overwork herself, and she didn't plan any such thing, unless the rest of the thieves were to ambush her. It would be their demise, but she would require much rest then.

Giving a quick glance about the area, she realized how likely of a situation that could become when she took notice of the other thief's absence. It did not worry her in the least, merely give her a note to bother herself with were she to happen upon a bunch of hooligans who deluded themselves into believing they could defeat her. Smiling lightly at the matter, Amy wiped the remaining blood from Albion on the lower end of her cloak before putting it away again, and skipping back to the more public streets, energized and her hunger satiated for the moment.

TtTtTtTtTtTt

Spying from above the scene where a young girl had viciously killed a man and wounded a woman, a raven of great proportions flapped its sable wings and took flight above the city of Paris. With a minuscule twist of its tail, it made a spiral into an updraft of air warmed by sunlight, making the occasional flutter to stay airborne. As soon as it reached a satisfying altitude, the raven slipped from the thermal and glided to a rather tall building, a church of mesmerizing heights, that was only a few streets away. Landing on the rooftop, it hopped towards a figure that rested near the steeple, and looked up wistfully. Looking downward, the figure gave a short 'Oh!' of surprise before picking it up on her arm. The figure was Tira, although her once festive jester costume had been shredded, the tatters now reduced to a rather familiar look of fashion that she had when she first was recruited by Nightmare. She had left the hat behind completely, and had tightly bound most of her ragged clothes into a vaguely suggestive pattern. It was entertaining to her; the assassin had loved patchwork, no matter how sloppy, nor how revealing. Looking into the raven's crimson eye, her own magenta orbs lit up with joy at the news she received from the bird. Pecking it lightly on the top of its beak, she cast it off to the sky, and began to dash about the rooftops, leaping over them with unmatched agility.

"Amy is near!" she cackled gleefully, aiming to be at her side any moment. It seemed that she was in such a joyous mood that not even the death of a Watcher would have been able to water down her spirits.

In mere moments, Tira was hanging over Amy, peering often as the young girl mingled with the crowd. Her heart fluttered each time she glanced over the gutters, for several reasons: perhaps she would be spotted, not only by Amy, but by one of the city's officials, and then what? Or maybe she would look too far and lose her balance, then fall either to her death or her great embarrassment at the hands of Amy. The simple thought made her blush, let alone it actually happening.

Following the little girl a ways further, Tira finally deemed it worthwhile to risk giving up her position so she would be able to monitor Amy so much closer. Happening upon an alleyway with a relatively short drop, the assassin made a landing with cat-like fluidity and grace, and stood in the shadows for only a few moments. As soon as a particular victim passed by- a commoner, and a woman at that- Tira snared her in a tight grip and slapped a hand over the young woman's mouth, holding her silent as she was dragged into the darkness. A thud was heard, and mere seconds later, Tira could be seen, wearing a blouse and a skirt, draped over with an apron, tying her hair back into a knot with a few wily bangs hanging over her eyes in the front. She actually found the new attire to be somewhat convenient, as it allowed her to conceal her knife, now the only weapon she carried, effectively and discreetly, able to kill someone who was unsuspecting if the need arose.

Steadily making her way through the mess of people, Amy was soon in view, and Tira couldn't help but giggle as though she were a milk maid who had just been flirting with the cutest farmboy she'd seen. 'but you know this is all going to go badly, don't you?' her inner sadness and reclusiveness piped in, warning her with, 'because if you actually bothered with paying attention, you would have noticed that the watcher also said siegfried and raphael are in the city now.'

'What!' her deep, dark malevolence shrieked, unwilling to believe such a thing. 'They could not possibly still continue their search; by now, any parent would have left their child to the Fates.'

"They must not be parents then, huh?" Tira said to herself aloud, clapping her hand over her mouth as soon as she realized her mistake.

Amy made a glance behind herself, and for a brief moment, their gazes met, a rosy scarlet embracing flowery orchid. Even with Tira's fingers masking most of her face, the younger girl was still doubtless as to who it was- those eyes being unforgettable- and dashed in her direction. Hugging Tira about the waist almost with a painfully tight grip, Amy cried out, "Mon ami! Où avez-vous été?*" (*My friend! Where have you been?)

Managing to pry the girl who was desperately clinging from her now sore torso, Tira waved at the question as though she were batting away a fly, replying, " Oh, ici et là, de nombreux lieux à Paris. Fascinant place, pour être honnête avec vous.*" (*Oh, here and there, many places in Paris. Fascinating place, to be honest with you.)

If she could, though, Tira would easily and immediately part with some of the dearest posessions she ever had taken hold of, if only to be out of the wretched, obnoxious, and all-around repugnant city at the snap of her fingers. A very dangerous pair of men were after their daughter and goddaughter respectively, and if they were to catch the two of them together, Tira would be a red smear on the broadside of Siegfried's gargantuan zweihander. She doubted that she would be allowed to live if she were found by herself, let alone accompanying Amy. Suddenly coming to a revelation for what could be done, Tira suggested to Amy, alternating to English, "Amy, I've got a very important job to do right now. Do you think that you could wait for just a teensy-weensy bit somewhere else, say... the cathedral, by nightfall?"

Amy looked upward at Tira, befuddled and slightly hurt. "I... I am to wait? Why? What iz z'is job you speak of?"

Hurriedly making an excuse to get away for a moment, she answered, "Something so secret that not even my ami intime is supposed to know. I need to get to my spot soon, or I'll be short on time. So remember ami, la cathédrale."

"Oui, la cathédrale."

Giving her a peck on the cheek, Tira watched Amy sprint through the streets, worming her way through the alleys to make her way to the place of sermon. As soon as the girl disappeared around the corner, Tira looked about the street for anyone before she would flee to the sadows herself- and she was absolutely mortified to find a man with lengthy, blond hair on a horse in full armor with an even longer sword, riding alongside a carriage. The one guiding the horses in the carriage was a man with a wide-brimmed hat and mantle of white, and his clothes consisted of many other pale colors; reflectors of light. It had to be Siegfried, Raphael, and one of his servants, as she knew that the sun's glare weakened them. Indeed it was, she recognized the blade of Requiem, and she knew no other who would have such a as she was going to turn away from them, Siegfried's piercing gaze met her own, and she felt as though a spear of ice had ran along her spine. At that, she whipped around and quickly walked away, attempting to make herself appear as someone who had simply caught sight of a particularly intimidating man and wished to be out of his path. 'we know that he's realized who we are, and he's going to come after us, and flatten us like an insect under his boot-'

"Please, not now..."

'Hah! We felt how badly Soul Calibur burned, that frost gripping us by the heart. This time, he'll kill us with it!'

"Shut up, shut up, shut up..."

'It's okay, honey! All he'll do is get rid of that nasty wittle Nightmare's mark, and ask where Amy went! We think.'

"Shut up!" Tira screamed, gripping the sides of her head amd driving away some of the people on the street. She instantly regretted that, as she heard a horse's hooves behind her, and very close. They weren't a diligent run, however, but more of a trot that displayed confidence in the rider's chance of getting to the target without it getting away.

She didn't need to look behind her to know who it was. Finally able to regain her composure, Tira could feel the cool steel of a gauntlet on her shoulder as she lifted her head. "Tira," Siegfried's powerful voice began in a disturbingly calm tone, "you vill come vit' us. I do not vish to make s'is more complicated d'an it needs to be."

Turning to face him, Tira saw his stern, unmoving face. Compromise was most definitely not an option, and if she were to even think of trying her dagger, she'd have no chance of penetrating that heavy armor. 'Don't surrender, you dolt! Either he'll kill you, or Raphael will turn you into a slave, just like he does with everyone else! I'm surprised he hasn't made a move on Siegfried yet, in all honesty.'

Ignoring the advice of Gloom, Tira followed Siegfried to the carriage, stepping inside as Siegfried tied his horse to the side before entering himself. Tira was seated next to Raphael, and directly across from Siegfried, a position that left her feeling very exposed. Raphael was the first to ask anything, his voice also calm, but there was a certain predatory feel to it, as though he was a falcon that had just eaten, so the mouse it eyed was simply out of curiosity, not hunger. "Where iz she?"

Tira was more than aware of who the vampire was asking. "I... don't know."

"She lies," came a feminine voice that seemed to be from nowhere.

This time with a touch more hostility in his voice, Raphael requested, "So, I ask again, where iz Amy?"

Tira's face suddenly darkened, her expression changing from worry to anger. "You'll never know. She'll have been dead by the time you find her, her bones picked clean-"

Raphael's velvet glove met her face in an unnervingly vicious slap, jerking her head to the side. "Tell me z'is instant, or so God save me and ze remains of your pitiful soul!"

"Never!" Tira growled, which was met with Raphael's fist being driven into her stomach.

As his knuckles collided with her gut, he felt the rigid handle of the dagger in her apron. While she was still keeled over, Raphael drew it and observed its keen edge for a moment. He then whispered into her ear his voice trembling with repressed fury, "You will eizzer tell me where my daughter iz, or 'ave a face to match our friend 'ere... and pair'aps more."

Finally able to catch her breath for a moment, Tira belted out a wicked cackle. "I've had worse torture when I was a Bird of Passage, you incompetent fool."

Raphael sighed. "So be it." Grasping her by the jaw, Raphael pressed the point of the knife into the skin just above her left brow, dragging it along her face excruciatingly slowly, ending just to the left of her mouth. Her shrieks made the horses whinny.

'Siegfried, will you just sit here and watch as he does this to her?' Soul Calibur asked with concern.

'She has brought it on herself, and Raphael is as stubborn as I. D'ere is no changing his mind.'

'There is a difference between persuasion and interference, Siegfried. Keep that in mind, dear.'

'Vat?'

'Nothing.'

By the time his conversation with Soul Calibur was over, Siegfried saw that Raphael had made another gash on Tira, this one over her right collarbone, and was opting to make another on her breast of the same side. Siegfried quickly snatched the Frenchman by the wrist, wrapping his metal-clad fingers tightly just below Raphael's thumb. Shaking his head silently, Siegfried pulled the blade away from Tira's chest. Raphael looked at him quizzically, but understood that Siegfried had something on his mind, so he kept quiet. Drawing Soul Calibur from the pouch at his belt, Siegfried placed it on Tira's chest, although nothing happened for a few moments. To this, Tira gave an expression of fear and confusion, unsure of what was to happen as the palm of Siegfried's gauntlet pressed the cold shard against her.

And then a sensation of what felt like ice water flowing through her veins, but it was a feeling of ecstasy, not agony. She gasped sharply, almost choking on her breath, her back arching so far that she looked like she would have been seeing the world upside down, were her eyes open. As it were, the stimulus of Soul Calibur's energy on her chest was so enthrallingly euphoric that her eyes shut themselves as they rolled into the back of her head. Her knife wounds closed almost immediately, leaving behind nothing but the trails of blood that had dribbled from them and a very thin, clean scar where the cuts had been.

The shard began to glow ever brighter, causing Raphael to recoil from the vibrant display of radiance. He began to grow even more jaundiced towards the assassin, and also... envious. Here she was, recieving the services that he and his daughter had been promised, simply because she had been discovered, and she was known to be stained by the murderous taint of Soul Edge. He wanted to rip Siegfried's arm away, for if he was to be denied purity, so would Tira; but to even look in the direction of the shard was utter agony when it did its work, and if he were to take hold of it, Raphael was sure that he would be seriously harmed, if not destroyed. Siegfried was the one who moderated the power of the spirit inside, and to expose himself to it all without reserves could spell his doom. The unfairness of it all was so frustrating!

Finally, after a few more moments, the brilliance faded, and Raphael could hear both of them breathing heavily. Tira was panting like an overworked hound, and Siegfried's breath was steady and deep, although one could see the cold, gritty sweat that beaded on his forehead. Pulling his hand away, there was a loud cracking sound, one of ice breaking. Still holding Soul calibur in his hand, Siegfried looked at his fist, sighing as he saw that it was thickly frosted over with ice as clear as glass. Ignoring his hand for a time, Siegfried tiredly asked Tira, "De voices... s'ey trouble you no more?"

Tira's wearied and now scarred face wrinkled as she strained visibly, from what seemed to be thinking very hard. Raphael could have sworn that smoke was about to pour from her ears if she didn't stop immediately. Suddenly, her eyes shot up to Siegfried, laden with tears, and she leapt for him, seizing him in her arms that couldn't quite reach completely around his armor. "Off de lui, vous folle!*" Raphael hissed as he yanked her away from the startled knight. Siegfried had expected some kind of positive reaction, but to be held in such a tight embrace was rather uncomfortable, even with the plate mail between them. (*Off of him, you madwoman!)

Wailing through tears of joy, Tira cried, "Yes! Yes, they are gone! I feel..." and just as quickly as she had started into such joy, she looked as though something dawned on her, and a very heavy weight had been dropped onto her back. "I feel... so alone."

Siegfried felt only a small amount of pity for her, as she must have relied on them for much of her life to be able to handle the more gruesome aspects of her profession. But they had no time to feel sorry for anybody at the moment, for they had a child to recover. "So, vhere is she?"

Tira's epiphany had stricken a particularly sour note on her heartstrings, and it seemed that it would be some time before she would recover. What she did come to understand was that, since she had no one else, Amy was the only other person that she had left, and she wasn't going to escape from these two men. The only choice she had was to disclose the information of where they were to meet, and chance running away then. The one person that could possibly catch them would be Raphael, as he had strange powers that would allow him to keep up with her quick pace. So, her mind set on another plan, Tira admittied to them, "I was to meet Amy by the nearby cathedral at nightfall, once the stars were visible."

"What were your plans z'en, hm? What were you going to do to hair?" Raphael demanded, acid on his tongue.

"That is none of your business," Tira shot back, "All you asked for was her location, and I told you where we were going to meet. I don't know where she is now, so I gave you the next place I know she'll be."

Raphael growled deeply, looking ready to slash her throat, but Siegfried caught his intentions before he could act on them. Thinking quickly, he reasoned, "Restrain yourself, Raphael, ve should keep her for at least a little longer. Ve let her out first to gif Amy a sense of security, and s'en you can get a hold of Amy, vhile I take care of Tira."

Sighing through his nose, Raphael conceded. "I guess you are right," he said with disdain, "It's not as if she can do anyt'ing unarmed."

LlLlLlLlLlLl

By sunset, Aeon could see the gates of Paris and the taller buildings that decorated the urban setting. The golden shine of the sun cast shadows that made every minute detail of the city easily visible, the contrast aiding the lizardman's already acute vision. He trudged on with a troupe of men that were to scour the streets along with Romero in search of the demonic influence that was present. What remained of Soul Edge, as Aeon knew it, was guiding them to find other sources of power, and although he would do his best to prevent it from restoring itself, he also recognized his responsibility to the Inquisition, and would not abandon them. He may act against them, if only to prevent the accursed sword from returning to full strength, but he would prove to those arrogant bastards that he was more human than not, perhaps even moreso than they.

After only another hour of marching, the soldiers had reached the city gates. Father Romero in the lead, the guards approached them and asked with a dutiful tone,"Le but de votre présence ici n'est pas connue, le père, bien que votre présence est toujours la bienvenue. Pourquoi avez-vous venir à Paris?*" (*Your purpose for being here is unknown, Father, although your presence is always welcome. Why have you come to Paris?)

Answering by whipping a rolled document from his embroidered sleeve, Romero replied in fluent French, "Je suis ici pour une affaire importante, a demandé et écrit par le pape lui-même. Nous sommes à détruire toutes les traces d'une créature démoniaque qui répand sa souillure à travers le pays et son peuple, et nous en sommes venus à soupçonner son influence a atteint un peu de citoyens de certains dans votre ville. Nous sommes simplement ici pour déraciner et les supprimer de votre ville respectable.*" (*I am here on important business, requested and written by the Pope himself. We are to destroy all traces of a demonic creature who spreads its taint through the land and its people, and we have come to suspect its influence has reached a certain few citizens in your city. We are simply here to uproot and remove them from your respectable city.)

Taking a quick scan over the paper, the guard who had approached Romero nodded in approval. However, he made a look of revulsion in Aeon's direction. "Et cette créature répugnante est avec vous parce que ...?*" (*And that disgusting creature is with you because...?)

Romero made a casual chuckle, using his hand for emphasis as he explained, "La bête est ici un moyen de... persuasion." (*The beast is here for a means of... persuasion.)

Grunting in disapproval, the guards till allowed him through. "Seulement si vous le garder sous étroite surveillance, et enveloppé. Nous ne pouvons pas avoir les citoyens dans une panique.*" (*Only if you keep him under close watch, and shrouded. We cannot have the citizens in a panic.)

Nodding curtly, Romero ordered for the men to cover Aeon in a heavy, red cloak and mantle, a hood and muffling scarf to mask his reptilian facial features. Holding his tail over his shoulder to prevent its revealing to the public, he trudged into the city, along with the rest of the soldiers.

"The demonios are nearby," Romero told his men with haste as they marched inside. "Their taint has gathered near a cathedral in the poorest district. We will split up into smaller groups and take separate paths to flush them out. Comprendé?"

"Si."

Turning to Aeon, Romero said with a helping of disdain, "You, bestio, shall be accompanied by Cesar and two others. You more than make up for what the lack of men would entail, and Cesar seems to be the only one who you get along with. We cannot have you que causan estragos.* Go, I will be with the largest group that heads straight for the cathedral." At that, Romero did just as he said, leaving to join the strike team of soldiers that held the highest numbers. (*running amok [roughly])

As soon as the Inquisitor had left, Cesar asked Aeon, "You are armed, yes?" to which he nodded. "Bien. You will need it."

Aeon in the lead, he began to give the occasional sniff to the air. It was umpteen times worse than Athens! Smoke, spittle, and sweat pervaded his nostrils wherever they went, not to mention so many other unspeakables that were so terrible and foreign to him. It was worse than the acrid swamps that Kunpaetku had built into his shrine, but at least the smell had come naturally, as he'd let the water flood the place from a nearby lake. But this!- it was the most vile and disgusting thing he'd ever put his snout through, and was almost becoming nauseous from the rank stench. Having heard stories from other lizardfolk of those of the reptilian ilk having moved into the sewers of the cities and venturing about at night, Aeon completely dashed such foolish beliefs from his mind; surely nothing with an ounce of wit left would dare to live in something so revolting.

And yet, as he witnessed in his patrol through the streets, humans both thrived and suffered here. Those who had some sort of money could afford food and a home, and a fairly comfortable life, while they spat on the ones who were so low, so poor and so weak they had to live in the alleys and couldn't move, rolling in their own filth by the time they could make it to the roadside in the off chance that someone may spare them a coin. And everyone had some sort of fear lingering in the back of their mind, and Aeon could see why as he spied the occasional bandit or mugger slinking away in the shadows, possibly startled by his odd shape and fierce, lizard-like eyes. They were the predators of this place, and for someone to invade uninvited was unwelcome and offputting. Aeon could tell that they were now just as much prey as the others were, as the soldiers were simply the ones with bigger weapons. That, and perhaps they fought better. One could never know how well a warrior had trained himself on his own.

The path to the cathedral had been easy, save for the nightmare of smells that Aeon had to endure. As the front doors of the church came into view, so did the figure of a little girl with red hair and a black cloak, shivering slightly in her boots. The evening had started to become slightly bitter, as the weather started in the direction of becoming moist. Able to detect a familiar taint upon her, Aeon pointed in her direction and nodded, to which Cesar replied with a confounded expression. "Are you sure?" he whispered. Aeon grunted and nodded again.

Putting on a friendly smile, Cesar stepped up to her, his bardiche in a non-hostile position. He waved and greeted her in English, "Hello, Miss. How are you today?"

Surprised by the man's sudded appearance, Amy jumped and was even more shocked by the weapon he held. She didn't recognize that it was in a relaxed hold, and scrambled backwards, eyes wide. It was then that Cesar saw how Aeon knew: her eyes were as red as freshly spilled blood. Her skin was as pale as a full moon, and he knew that no one could make their face so white without poisoning themselves or bleeding to death. Still, Cesar stepped forward and offered his hand, attempting to reason with her, "Please, I mean no harm, Miss. We only wish to speak with you for a moment!" but she batted it away, shrieking, "Go away!"

At that, Cesar was the one who was stunned, as he saw her canine teeth, long and razor sharp. Fear overcame him as whether or not to reach out again or not, for he may just lose his hand. In Cesar's moment of reluctance, Amy took advantage of the moment to stand and flee the scene.

Having been sitting in the carriage nearby, masked by the crowds, Raphael and Siegfried witnessed Amy's departure. Their plans ruined by the interference of some foreign soldier, Raphael planned to wring the man's neck like a wet rag- until he saw the true identity of the one cloaked so heavily in red. As the man ripped the hampering cloth from him in one swift motion, Raphael was shocked to see that it was no man, but instead a manbeast! Both Siegfried and Raphael had parted ways with the carriage at this point, a very distraught and harried Tira hot on their heels as Aeon chased Amy, followed by Cesar, the other two soldiers, Raphael, Tira and Siegfried, in that order.

Taking quick glances behind her, Amy could see the ferocious lizardman gaining headway, a breastplate over his chest and a buckler over his right arm. She wasn't aware of what weapons he had, but she didn't want to find out, either; it seemed she would have no such luck, however, for as she reached one of the town's squares, a small fountain in the center, she saw many other soldiers gathering there, clearing the populace from the area. With the others behind her, she was surrounded. Stopping at the stone boundary of the fountain, Amy turned to see the lizardman walking toward her steadily, his palm outstretched as if he was asking her to come with him peacefully. Her, with such a monster, in peace? Never! Not in a thousand years tenfold would she ever do something so ludicrous! Making a brazen decision, Amy drew Albion and charged, making a powerful thrust forward, which Aeon easily sidestepped, catching the rapier by its less-than-keen blade and snatching it from her threw it to the side, and growled, offering his hand again as Tira rushed by, holding Amy like a beloved sister. Tears ran down her face as she looked ready to shield Amy from any blows that Aeon may be ready to throw in their direction.

"Ai! Foul creature!"

Turning around, Aeon saw Raphael pointing his own rapier at him, although from a fair distance away. Two soldiers lay dead, and Cesar had a shoulder wound, his free hand clutching the bleeding cut tightly. Siegfried had just turned the corner and registered what exactly had happened so far, turning to the lizardman that had just drawn a heavy looking hand axe and was marching in Raphael's direction, growling angrily.

Aeon waved Cesar away, his frill giving a flutter of hatred. That man was the closest thing to a friend that he had, and this gormless worm had the nerve, the utter gall, to try and kill him. Aeon would make him pay, and he wouldn't simply try, he really would kill Raphael. Making a step forward with a roar, Aeon twisted his entire body for a swing at the vampire, but with a crooked grin and a plume of red and black smoke, the man vanished. Instincually, Aeon realized that the most likely place for someone to teleport like that would be behind him, and at that, he unleashed his attack in a gyro-spin, striking Raphael ove the forehead with his buckler, who was about to impale Aeon. Raphael was knocked to the ground, looking both dizzy and embarrassed. To most, it didn't seem it would be so for long as Aeon held his axe high and made a bestial screech as he crought it down, only to smash it into cobblestone as Raphael rolled out of the way.

Leaping to his feet and shaking off the shock of the blow he'd sustained, Raphael saw Aeon rise up from the force of his own attack that would have been a deathblow, were he not so agile. A growl, and then Aeon sprang at Raphael, tackling and pinning him to the ground. Just as Aeon was about to bite the vampiric man in the face, however, Aeon heaved as he felt a metallic foot collide with his torso, flinging him from Raphael. Rolling over and looking upward to see who delivered suck a powerful kick, Aeon saw Siegfried, stalking towards him slowly with Requiem pointed towards his chest. Backing away and standing as fast as possible, Aeon recovered and readied himself for battled with the knight and possibly with Raphael, simultaneously.

Behind them, Cesar had collapsed by the fountain, cringing in pain. There were far more wounds than the mere cut on his shoulder- a menagerie of slashes decorated his chest, as his armor had been ripped from his body somehow, his left thigh had a thrust wound, and a long gash was left across his stomach. He leaned his head back, panting heavily and wishing that he would faint and not have to feel anything until he either died or healed. Tira stood with her back to Amy, Cesar a mere three steps away, fending off approaching soldiers with weapons they'd managed to wrestle from their grasp. Tira had a pistol and a rifle with a bayonet, using the thing like a blend between a spear and sword. She'd emptied the musket, and with a puff of smoke, the pistol was empty as well, the bullet having hit one of the Inquisition's men in the throat. Flipping it around, the assassin began to use it as a sap, beating those who managed to get near of the head or in other painful areas when the bayonet was busy.

Amy, in the meantime, had managed to nab a saber from one of them, and was fiercely hacking away at the soldiers and their weapons. It was somewhat unwieldly to her, for it wasn't as much of a thrusting weapon as her familiar rapier, but it would suffice.

With the two men facing him, zweihander and rapier respectively, Aeon knew he was outmatched, but there had to be a way for him to get them to give in. He thought of his position, and their goal. He was part of the Inquisition, for the moment, who were after the tainted ones in the city, who they'd found. One was a child. He could use that to gain leverage. Immediately putting away his axe, Aeon dove into the ring of men that circled Amy and Tira. As he rolled to absorb the fall, he immediately followed up with flying to his feet and slinging his shielded arm into the surprised Tira's face, knocking her asunder. Kicking her weapons aside, Aeon then grappled Amy from behind, wrapping one forearm over her throat and wrenching her saber from the other. Changing his hold, Aeon slid his arm under her upper arms, pinning her tightly to his chest, and then held the saber to her neck. He slowly made his way to the fountain, stepping backwards and into the water, backing up to where Raphael wouldn't be able to appear behind him, and as the soldiers parted to let his actions be known, Raphael's face began to twist with immeasurable levels of rage and abhorrence. Even Siegfried's face showed utmost fury at such a low act, but as Raphael was about to rush forward, Siegfried stopped him. "You move, and s'ey kill Amy. S'at is de simple truss," he warned, and at that, Raphael screamed his frustration for the entire city to hear.

A soft clap was heard as soon as Raphael's yelling ceased. Tira had managed to stand by then, and was just as shocked at what Aeon had done as the rest of them. Wailing in protest, she was about to leap at him when she was kicked to the ground again. "You will respect the Bishop when he is present," the soldier responsible told her, the point of his bardiche aimed for her heart.

His applause finished, Father Ambrosio appeared from around the corner, having seen much of the battle. Father Romero was at his side, a proud and dutiful expression on his face. Looking in Aeon's direction, Ambrosio gave him a curt nod. "Ah, Aeon, you have executed your task beautifully. One of them is in your grasp, the other is at a standstill. Very good." Turning in Raphael and Siegfried's direction, he inquired of them, "So, what do you plan to do? I see that one of you shares the very same sinful curse as the girl. You must be her father, I presume?"

"What iz it to you, you ass-licking dog?" Raphael snarled.

Although Romero was about to shoot an insult back, Ambrosio laughed and held up a hand as a sign to tell Romero to refrain. "My, aren't we sensitive today? But I can understand such a venomous tongue; were I in your position, I would be hard pressed to restrain such foul words myself. And you," he asked Siegfried, "why are you, of all people here? Your face is very recognizable, Azure Knight. Although, I do not believe the title belongs to you any longer, does it?"

It was then Siegfried's turn to be restrained, which Raphael had much difficulty in doing. "Never, never again, vill I be called Nightmare!" he bellowed, his cold eyes shining from their usual cold, nearly lifeless selves into blizzards of relentless fury. Raphael actually had to hold him back with both arms in a bear hug, planting both feet in the ground and rearing back as hard as he could while Siegfried fought like a wild animal.

Ignoring the vicious knight's obvious intentions to charge at him and throttle him with his innards, Ambrosio began to pace slowly, and brought forth the situation. "It seems we have a problem," he stated, "We have the tainted child, who, while being a valuable prize, you are the one I want," pointing at Raphael, who began to look confused. Both Siegfried and Raphael stopped for a time, and Raphael asked, "What iz it z'at iz so important about moi?"

Explaining himself, Ambrosio continued, "Although the both of you are consumed by darkness, you, demonio, are the one responsible for much pain and suffering. Do you not think the Church had not heard of your actions, slaughtering people like cattle, or even worse, enslaving them to your will by biting them and draining their blood? We have many connections, señor.

"So, to solve this dilemma, I have a proposition. You will surrender your body and soul to the Spanish Inquisition. You will suffer through your deserved and rightful punishment, so delivered by the will of God and the Catholic Church. In return, your daughter will go free, unharmed, unscathed, as will your two companions. They will be escorted out by my men, to ensure that nothing is to befall anyone."

"And ve are to believe you vill not turn on us because...?" Siegfried jabbed.

Pulling a solid gold crucifix from under his robe, Ambrosio kissed the head of Jesus Christ on it. "I make my vow as a servant of the Lord that I will not deviate from my terms, lest I forfeit my soul. Besides," he added, "it is not as though you have much of a choice is it?"

Gritting his teeth, Raphael cast his sword to the ground. "So be it! Do what you wish wit' me!" he cried, his arms spread wide, at which the soldiers immediately detained him.

Aeon was loath to do what he did, but he realized that he had to. Not only for his survival, but, if he was willing to take the chance, everyone's survival. Going any farther, he knew that someone was definitely going to die. Cesar was on the verge already, and either he, Raphael or Siegfried would have been killed in their duel, and Tira or Amy, most likely the both of them, would have been ovewhelmed by the amount of men that swarmed them. He had to have done something to stop it, and once he'd made it known that the child was a hostage, and that they were to negotiate, nobody was dying anymore. He'd done his job, even if it took a low blow to do it. As soon as Raphael was in custody, Aeon let Amy free of his grasp, looking at himself in disgust. It may have been for the better, but it was one of the last things he wished he'd ever have to do, now that he had anything to consider calling humanity.

Tira scrambled to her feet in Amy's wake, the two of them running into Siegfried's arms. He caught them gracefully, his sword still in hand, and an expression that showed he wished to commit brutal, very morbid acts upon that man that stood in front of him. However, he had two people that he needed to protect now, and another that needed rescuing as soon as possible. He did not have time to do those things just yet... and he soon began to tell himself that those were things that Nightmare would do, not him. He was a knight of goodness, of remorse, of redemption. Nightmare was the dark knight of horror, massacre and melancholy. Those thoughts should not have entered his mind at all.

Before leaving, Amy picked up Raphael's rapier- Flambert- and put it where Albion used to be. It was a little big for the sheath, so it stuck out a tad, but the blade was stiff enough for it to suffice. They were, as said, escorted by a small troupe of soldiers to the city gates, where they were ushered off. As they left, Tira asked quietly, "What are we going to do now?"

A determined look on his face, Siegfried answered, "I am going to get us some 'elp. Tonight, ve vill make our vay to England."

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Meanwhile, back at the square, Aeon watched as they shackled Raphael, and began to beat him and laugh at him as though they were abusing some sort of worn beast. He had recovered Cesar and brought him to Ambrosio and Romero's carriage; Romero was supposedly helping him, although with what, Aeon didn't know. He suspected it to be Soul Edge, and he didn't like the idea one bit.

Another blow to the stomach with the butt of a musket, and Raphael wheezed, tears welling up in pain. Aeon flinched at the sight. Fiend or not, this had to stop. Just like himself, he was to be punished when he reached their destination, not on the way there. Just as another one, laughing merrily as he was about to pummel Raphael with the ball on the handle of his pistol, Aeon stepped forward and grabbed his hand. Gripping it tightly, he made a feral growl and dug his talons into the man's wrist, drawing blood. The soldier cried out and dropped the gun, while the small circle around Raphael parted enough for Aeon to get through. Stepping in front of the vampire, Aeon drew his axe and swung his hand to the side, then pounded his chest, ending the charade with his arms spread out like a human shield. In essence, he'd told them, 'If you want to hurt him, you've got to get through me.'

One of them had apparently understood, and took him seriously. This one also having a pistol, he drew it and aimed it at Aeon, but it wasn't fast enough. In a flash, before he realized it, his knuckles and fingers were gone, and the pistol dropped to the ground. The rest of the men backed away, unwilling to lose appendages, while the other man screamed. Ambrosio rushed forward to see what happened. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded harshly, his stone cold eyes meeting Aeon's acid green orbs.

Aeon pointed at the others, and then hit the handle of his axe into his open palm, and then motioned at Raphael. Contemplating what Aeon implied, Ambrosio sternly told him, "You do realize I cannot let this go unpunished. But first, we must bandage the soldier. And come, we cannot let the demonio be beaten to death before we get to Spain."

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(A/N): Okay, so I lied. No extra characters this chapter, it was way too long. I hope to get them in the next one, though.