Chapter 6
Raphael laughed to himself quietly as he imagined the Chinese woman stranded on a country she knew nothing about. Perhaps she would track him down, but...he would deal with her as she came. Raphael stepped onto the familiar cobbled streets of Rouen, déjà vu evident in every nook and cranny.
The Frenchman hailed a hansom, desperate to get back to his New Sorel Mansion to meet Amy and show her Soul Edge. Along the bumpy ride home, rain started to pelt down on the hansom, but Raphael was clean and dry. He looked indifferently outside the glass windows of the grand vehicle, seeing the sky turn an ominous grey. Rain was falling freely, now a rhythmic pattern upon the ground. The driver was getting soaked, so he pulled a coat over himself and continued riding, the clip-clopping of the three horses in front blending perfectly with the rain.
The ride was about fifteen minutes, when the driver reined in his horses and stopped, the horses pawing absentmindedly at the ground. Raphael disembarked smoothly from the hansom, getting under the shelter of his front porch, before handing the driver a handful of gold and silver coins, before telling him quietly to keep the change. The driver thanked him and went off into the torrents of rain, seeking other customers.
Raphael wiped some rainwater off his sleeve, before easing open his mansion door. Immediately, he felt something amiss. He felt it in his bones. One word flashed into his mind. Death. The scent of death permeated throughout the entire mansion.
"Veronique?" he called out for his servant, feeling dread cluster up in his chest. There was no answer. Raphael stumbled forward blindly, in the almost complete darkness. He lit a lamp and started moving through the New Sorel Mansion. For once, he wished it was not as big as it was. As his hand rested on the grand staircase banister, his foot suddenly touched something. Raphael looked down, horror contorting his face. "No..."he mumbled as he shone the lamp's dim light upon the corpse. It was Veronique.
Raphael did not care about anything else just then, as he tossed the lamp violently down the staircase before dashing up, taking the stairs five at a time. "Amy! Amy! AMY!" he shouted out all the way, each time a knot of fear tightening in his stomach. "Please oh please..."he murmured as his hand rested, hesitantly on Amy's room's doorknob. Fear swelling up in his throat, he pushed the door open, and a man turned to meet him. Raphael stiffened as he saw Amy flailing, thrashing to get free from the two men holding her, one with a dagger in hand.
"Emmanuel de Provins!" Raphael seemed to grind the name into his teeth. The most feared assassin in the French underworld.
"Ah yes...Monsieur Sorel...well you should know that the nobles have...shall we say...enlisted my services to deal with you, and your clan. A piteous clan, isn't it? A servant, a child, and a pathetic weakling of a man." Emmanuel bared his yellow teeth, and said, "Kill her. I've always wanted to take on a worthy opponent."
One of the men brought up the dagger, and slit Amy's throat, just as the word "DADDY!" escaped her lips. Blood splattered the polished wooden floors, as the man dropped Amy on the floor, when the dead body crumpled in a heap. For Raphael, it was like an explosion in his heart, an explosion of incandescent rage and pain. He grieved then, and the rage took hold, tearing his heartstrings as he pulled out Soul Edge.
"Ah ha," cried Emmanuel, drawing a cutlass, before sending his lackeys forward. Raphael swept his rapier low, saying in a voice with barely suppressed rage. "You're...quite...the rude one." The first man lunged forward with a sword. Raphael parried the blow and lashed a brutal foot into his face, breaking the jaw and sending splinters of bone flying. The other lackey hesitated, and it was all Raphael needed to impale him with the rapier. Raphael brutally lifted the lackey, still impaled on the blade and surprisingly alive. The blade slid deeper, aided by gravity, as the lackey howled in pain and struggled to get off. Raphael lifted him higher, letting him die by his own weight. When he stopped flailing, Raphael dropped him and slashed violently across the man with the broken jaw. He was immediately silenced, and Raphael was immersed in a pool of blood. "Now it's your turn!" Raphael cried out, his rapier pointing stoutly at Emmanuel. "En garde!" he yelled before the both of them hurtled towards each other, swords drawn.
Raphael laughed to himself quietly as he imagined the Chinese woman stranded on a country she knew nothing about. Perhaps she would track him down, but...he would deal with her as she came. Raphael stepped onto the familiar cobbled streets of Rouen, déjà vu evident in every nook and cranny.
The Frenchman hailed a hansom, desperate to get back to his New Sorel Mansion to meet Amy and show her Soul Edge. Along the bumpy ride home, rain started to pelt down on the hansom, but Raphael was clean and dry. He looked indifferently outside the glass windows of the grand vehicle, seeing the sky turn an ominous grey. Rain was falling freely, now a rhythmic pattern upon the ground. The driver was getting soaked, so he pulled a coat over himself and continued riding, the clip-clopping of the three horses in front blending perfectly with the rain.
The ride was about fifteen minutes, when the driver reined in his horses and stopped, the horses pawing absentmindedly at the ground. Raphael disembarked smoothly from the hansom, getting under the shelter of his front porch, before handing the driver a handful of gold and silver coins, before telling him quietly to keep the change. The driver thanked him and went off into the torrents of rain, seeking other customers.
Raphael wiped some rainwater off his sleeve, before easing open his mansion door. Immediately, he felt something amiss. He felt it in his bones. One word flashed into his mind. Death. The scent of death permeated throughout the entire mansion.
"Veronique?" he called out for his servant, feeling dread cluster up in his chest. There was no answer. Raphael stumbled forward blindly, in the almost complete darkness. He lit a lamp and started moving through the New Sorel Mansion. For once, he wished it was not as big as it was. As his hand rested on the grand staircase banister, his foot suddenly touched something. Raphael looked down, horror contorting his face. "No..."he mumbled as he shone the lamp's dim light upon the corpse. It was Veronique.
Raphael did not care about anything else just then, as he tossed the lamp violently down the staircase before dashing up, taking the stairs five at a time. "Amy! Amy! AMY!" he shouted out all the way, each time a knot of fear tightening in his stomach. "Please oh please..."he murmured as his hand rested, hesitantly on Amy's room's doorknob. Fear swelling up in his throat, he pushed the door open, and a man turned to meet him. Raphael stiffened as he saw Amy flailing, thrashing to get free from the two men holding her, one with a dagger in hand.
"Emmanuel de Provins!" Raphael seemed to grind the name into his teeth. The most feared assassin in the French underworld.
"Ah yes...Monsieur Sorel...well you should know that the nobles have...shall we say...enlisted my services to deal with you, and your clan. A piteous clan, isn't it? A servant, a child, and a pathetic weakling of a man." Emmanuel bared his yellow teeth, and said, "Kill her. I've always wanted to take on a worthy opponent."
One of the men brought up the dagger, and slit Amy's throat, just as the word "DADDY!" escaped her lips. Blood splattered the polished wooden floors, as the man dropped Amy on the floor, when the dead body crumpled in a heap. For Raphael, it was like an explosion in his heart, an explosion of incandescent rage and pain. He grieved then, and the rage took hold, tearing his heartstrings as he pulled out Soul Edge.
"Ah ha," cried Emmanuel, drawing a cutlass, before sending his lackeys forward. Raphael swept his rapier low, saying in a voice with barely suppressed rage. "You're...quite...the rude one." The first man lunged forward with a sword. Raphael parried the blow and lashed a brutal foot into his face, breaking the jaw and sending splinters of bone flying. The other lackey hesitated, and it was all Raphael needed to impale him with the rapier. Raphael brutally lifted the lackey, still impaled on the blade and surprisingly alive. The blade slid deeper, aided by gravity, as the lackey howled in pain and struggled to get off. Raphael lifted him higher, letting him die by his own weight. When he stopped flailing, Raphael dropped him and slashed violently across the man with the broken jaw. He was immediately silenced, and Raphael was immersed in a pool of blood. "Now it's your turn!" Raphael cried out, his rapier pointing stoutly at Emmanuel. "En garde!" he yelled before the both of them hurtled towards each other, swords drawn.