The ivory statue of Zeus was old. Not as old as Soul Edge, but over the years it had managed to avoid being broken up by robbers who preyed on temples like the one Cassandra found herself in. She approached the statue of the Thunder-Bearer and knelt before, sighing inwardly as she did. She had never been as devout as Sophitia, but she needed help that no mortal could give her.
"Hear me, O Lord of Olympus, wielder of the sacred thunderbolt…" she continued the prayer, the words so familiar they scarcely had any more meaning for her.
"Exactly who are you talking to?" a voice asked-one that belonged to no deity. Cassandra stood up and snatched the blade she had sheathed on her belt.
In the shadow of one of the temple columns sat a dark figure Cassandra hadn't noticed coming in. As it stood up and stepped forward she could see he it was stocky man with a beard that was faded red in color. He dressed in leather armor and a straw hat obscured the rest of his facial features. With his thumb and forefinger he clasped the edge of his hat for lowered it. Cassandra realized he was nodding.
"I didn't intend to startle you, girl…," he apologized. To Cassandra, his voice sounded full of knowledge, as though it belonged to a person who had experienced everything the world had to offer and mastered the most obscure of it's ways and arts. "…But I must tell you that the only one hearing you in this temple is me. That statue," he pointed a thumb at the sculpture, "is quite deaf." Cassandra didn't sheath her sword.
"What're you doing here!?" She challenged. She could feel her pulse racing from the shock of him interrupting her prayer. "Only a scoundrel would crouch in the shadows as you did. Are you a thief who uses this sacred place as a nest from which to hunt travelers? Perhaps someone fleeing from his debtors? Answer!" Cassandra hated being caught by surprise. She wanted an excuse to run her blade through the old man. Just like-
He held out his hands to show he had no weapon.
"Calm yourself, child. I'm just a weary traveler seeking shelter from the afternoon heat. Such a scorching land you Greeks live in; I don't know how you do it…." She could feel reason creeping in and retaking her emotions. She put her sword away. The old man began to pace around the large room they were in. Cassandra watched his movements.
"Now that we're on more civil terms, may I ask what you were going to ask your precious statue for?"
"Why?"
He shrugged, like it was something everyone knew.
"Perhaps I'd be able to help."
"Not likely, unless you know the ways of Heaven and Earth." Beneath his hat, she could see a smirk form.
"You'd be surprised at what I can do." The old man then turned around and started for the temple exit. Cassandra was watching him leave when she realized it. She ran past him and put herself between the old man and the doorway.
"What do you mean by that!?" She was shouting, something a reserved girl like Cassandra only did rarely. He stopped.
"…Nothing. Only the strange words of an old traveler. Go back to your statue." But he only stood there and made no move to continue out of the temple.
"You're lying. First you offer me your help, then turn around and march out? Come on, you knew what you were saying." He sighed and consented.
"Very well. But it will make things less awkward if we were introduced. What is your name?" He asked.
"Cassandra Alexandra," she answered. Something clicked in the old man and he became a great deal more enthusiastic.
"Well then, this makes things much more interesting! And what exactly is it you want of me, Miss Alexandra?" Cassandra paused. It would be the first time she had told anyone of the delusion, the hope she had been holding ever since returning from her journey. She hadn't even told Sophitia. It wasn't like her big sister could help her. Yet here Cassandra was, about to reveal her wish to a traveler she had known only for a few minutes.
"I…I wish to speak with a departed soul."
The old man smiled.
"Ah, I was hoping you'd ask for something like that. I bet you had in mind something like a séance. But why settle for an imitation," he asked, "when you can have the real thing?"
Her eyes opened wide. Was he saying that…?
"There's an English noblewoman who has what you need. Isabella Valentine- better known as Ivy. She fancies herself an alchemist and has in her possession a magic artefact, the Crest of Tears. You'll find her estate near the quaint town of Westingmessexfordchestershire. Just get the Crest and the rest will be simple. I promise."
The girl nodded and ran out of the temple. While she disappeared into the distance, the old man removed his hat to scratch the scar on his head.
"Stupid girl, didn't even ask me my name."
Isabella Valentine stared up at the portrait of her father. Lord Valentine was depicted as a stern old aristocrat, glaring at all who paused to gaze upon like his daughter was doing now.
"You're part of the past now." Ivy said to no one in particular. A servant approached her.
"My Lady, you have a guest. He says he sells supplies for all manners of alchemy and asks if you are interested in purchasing some of his wares."
"Bring him in. And," she indicated the painting, "dispose of this."
"Yes, my Lady."
Standing up on the stairway, she could see the merchant standing in the entrance hall of the estate.
"Dear traveler, I am obligated to welcome you to my home," Ivy began as she descended the stairs. "I am Isabella Valentine, Lady of this estate. It is far too late in the day to conduct business so I will also be your host for the evening." The Englishwoman approached her guest and clasped his hand, taking the opportunity to scrutinize him. He had short blond hair and was dressed in a heavy overcoat for protection against the elements. "To whom do I have the honor of entertaining, Mr…?" she asked.
"Alexander," he replied in a voice that was unexpectedly hoarse." Ivy's eyes narrowed.
"Are you ill?" He shook his head no.
"War wound." She peered, then shrugged. Just because Ivy couldn't see any obvious disfigurements.
"Very well. Dinner will be served in the dining hall three hours from now. Please don't be late." She went back upstairs leaving her guest behind.
"And you say this is where your mistress disappears to?"
"Yes, for hours at a time." The servant looked very happy. He had every reason to be, considering the hefty sum Cassandra had given him as incentive to spill his Lady's secrets. The laboratory vibrated with the smell of things being heated under alcohol burners and vials of multicoloured liquids bubbling.
"You may go now, Cassandra said, dismissing the servant. He nodded and scurried up the stairs. When he had left, Cassandra hurriedly began searching for the Crest of Tears. With her hair specially arranged and using her war-injury story as an excuse to keep quiet, she could deceive Ivy with her disguise for a few brief encounters, but no more. She needed the Crest and quickly. She turned aside skulls and books, some of which were so old they crumbled to dust as she threw them aside. Cassandra swept clean entire tables full of flasks of beakers in her search, ignoring the sound of breaking glass and the crunching sounds her boots made as she walked over the shards.
By one wall was a glass cabinet that housed what looked like a slab of white stone. Cassandra moved closer to it.
"I imagine that's what you're looking for, because you've destroyed just about everything else down here," a voice behind her. A very cross-looking Ivy stood on the stairs, glaring down at her and blocking the only exit. "Yes, that would be the Crest of Tears- the only thing on earth that can bring beck the dead and no doubt what you came to steal."
"Please let me have, Ivy. I need it more than you do." Cassandra pleaded. But her hand moved to her sword as she spoke. Ivy noticed. How rude of you to fray your weapon in my house. Have I not been a charitable hostess? In fact, I'll even give you a gift, in spite of you destroying years of research and work because of your greed. You see that rope cord, there in the corner?" Cassandra nodded.
"Pull it." Cassandra was torn. On one hand she wanted to just grab the Crest and run past Ivy. On the other hand, she wanted to see what pulling the cord did. Curiosity won. She gave it a good tug. An iron shutter opened to reveal-
Cassandra screamed. Behind the shutter, encases in a giant glass case was a giant bald man, with pupiless eyes and I giant, rusted axe grasped in a gigantic paw of a hand. The upper and lower halves of its body had apparently come apart at some point- a line of stitches stretched across the torso.
"That's Astaroth," Ivy explained as she slowly walked down the laboratory stairs. "A demon who was killed by a wandering swordsman; at least that's what it told me before I remove its ability to speak. I was seeking Soul Edge in Saxony when I learned a great monster had been slain nearby. .Because I had recently taken the Crest of Tears from the money pit I decided to test it out. I went to the same spot where the creature had been defeated and pronounced the words inscribed on the crest. Lo and behold, " Ivy snickered, "it worked. Now his first task as my personal weapon is to destroy this thief." The Englishwoman removed her Ivy blade from her belt and smashed the glass with its hilt.
Astaroth came alive in immediately. It turned it's head towards Cassandra and stepped out of its prison. Ivy blade changed into it's whip sword, and its owner began advancing toward Cassandra. The Greek woman drew her sword and shield and discarded her cloak- with her ruse discovered, she had no more need for a disguise. She dashed toward Astaroth, intending to decapitate the beast with one swipe then concentrate on Ivy. Something curled around her ankle, then she was flying across the room. Cassandra knocked over a table and landed with a *crash!* She briefly lost track of time. When she regained her senses, Astaroth was on its haunches and reaching for her. Cassandra meant to stab the demon in the face with her sword, but she found herself holding a flask of purple liquid instead. The container fragmented. Astaroth shrieked- a noise no human could never hope to imitate- as the glass shards and sulphuric liquid alternately shredded and burned its eyes. Cassandra rolled away and snatched her sword off the ground. The now-blind monster was swinging its axe indiscriminately, hitting shelves, tables, glass, miscellaneous instruments and-
Ivy. The Englishwoman toppled to the floor, dead.
Cassandra saw the crest on the other side of the room. She ducked under Astaroth's axe scooped it up and ran up the stairs. Before opening the door to the rest of the mansion she looked back. The demon must have knocked over something flammable because a fire had started in one part of the room. Indeed, it was still vainly searching for its target, stomping in feet and bellowing in rage, trampling Ivy's corpse in the process. Cassandra hadn't meant for anybody to do die, but…
She hugged the crest close to her as she left the mansion.