"Where are you going?" Raphael's voice boomed in the dimly lit corridor, echoing as in a cave. His servant Adrienne spun to face him, her dark eyes wide and startled.

            "To visit my family," she stated simply as she regained her composure. "You said I could have the rest of the day off."

            "I did, and I have no intention of going back on my word. I only wanted to know where you were going. Your family lives in Albi, no? You've packed as if planning to journey all the way to Spain," he stated, eyeing the heavy pack Adrienne had strapped to her back. She had changed out of her black frock and white apron into a more durable, coarse dress of plain wool. It was cinched in the middle with a belt that held an array of smaller bags. A white hood covered the dark waves of her hair.

            "It's not truly your business, begging your pardon, sir," she replied tartly. The tone seemed out of place in contrast to her usual soft-spoken manner. Raphael frowned, then let it deepen into a scowl.

            "I don't take kindly to servants who try to deceive me…" he began.

            "Deceive you?" Adrienne responded in outrage before he could finish. "These things are all mine, I assure you. I would never lie to you or steal from your household!"

            "…who try to deceive me," he spoke over her words. "And anything that concerns my daughter is truly my concern." Adrienne opened her mouth to say more, but hesitated and snapped it shut.

            "Adrienne, Amy is not helpless," Raphael continued. "She is my daughter, after all. There are times when I, too, have almost stepped out of my house, intending to find her and bring her home. Each time I stop because I realize that my chances of finding her are far slimmer than Amy's chances of returning home. I know how you feel. You have almost been a second parent to Amy, especially when I left in search of the Soul Edge nine years ago. I know you care for her deeply but, please, you must have faith in her as well. She will return home alive, whether she finds the sword or not, and I want you to be here for her when she does."

            "You are right," Adrienne replied sadly. "I only wish that I could help her somehow, other than pray to God for her safety every day."

            "Me, too, Adrienne. Me, too," Raphael agreed softly. Tears brimmed in his servant's eyes and a lone tear glistened briefly in the candlelight before falling down the curve of her cheek. Raphael reached forward to gently catch the teardrop with a gloved hand. "I'm not angry with you," he said as several more tears blossomed in her dark eyes. He then drew his hand away and moved to shift the pack off of her shoulders. Something in the bottom on the sack made a tinny sound as it landed softly on the ceramic surface of the corridor.

            "I'm sorry, sir," she apologized anyway. She grabbed the baggage with both hands and hauled it with her as she shuffled toward her quarters. Raphael strode toward the opposite of the mansion, his footsteps ringing on the tiled floor in steady, even beats.

            Amy, are you punishing me for not being there when you needed me most? he wondered. Tears sprang to his eyes but he blinked them away self-consciously. I know that was my intent when I ran away from my family once as a child—I wanted to hurt them, especially my father. I lacked the physical strength to fight against him when he came home in a drunken rage to beat me. When I ran away, it was not to save my own skin—I knew he'd take particular vengeance on me when I was forced to return home—but to inflict damage on a different level. I knew that I'd bring scandal to my noble family and my father's name by running away, even if only for one night, as long as I made sure that as many people knew of it as possible. My mother, who never lifted a hand against my beatings, would be ridiculed in her social circles as well. My plan worked—I paid dearly for it, but it worked.

            Raphael turned from the corridor into a short hallway that preceded a flight of stairs. He rested an elbow on the polished oak railing and leaned forward to grip his face in his hands. No, that's not why you're doing this, Amy. You wrote in your letter that you wanted to make me happy again. I believe you. You….

            "Sir Sorel!" came a cry from the adjacent corridor. Raphael straightened instantly, his thoughts fleeing him.

            "Yes, Adrienne?" he addressed the servant who came barreling around the corner. She flapped a white square of parchment at him excitedly.

            "A messenger just brought this," she answered breathlessly as she surrendered the letter to Raphael. He cracked the wax seal with his thumb and read the message from his daughter. It was dated in November, two months past. "Oh, I can't believe you didn't hear the knock at the door. I heard it all the way in my quarters! And I knew, I just knew it would be a messenger with a letter from Amy," Adrienne babbled until he signaled for her silence with an impatient wave of his hand.

Dear Father,

I'm leaving Greece today, having finally decided where next I need to travel. I long to tell you all I have discovered, but I fear that you'll come after me—or send Adrienne to hound me down. Just trust that I know what I'm doing and pray for my safe return. And don't threaten to fire Adrienne when she makes that horrid cabbage stew for dinner—you need her as much as I do.

Love, Amy

            I need Adrienne as much as—what does she mean? Raphael wondered. He glanced at his servant, meeting her hopeful gaze.

            "Is she well?" she inquired. Raphael clutched the letter possessively, even though Adrienne could not read.

            "Yes, she sounds well," he replied, breaking eye contact. "She also mentioned that I should be kind to you."

            "Oh, I'm so glad, I…" Adrienne paused. "She did?" Suddenly, neither she nor her master could summon the will to look at each other.

            "I would be much obliged, however, if you would cook something other than your cabbage stew for dinner tonight," Raphael said awkwardly as he turned and retreated up the winding stairway. He thought he heard a soft giggle as he turned his back, but he could not be certain.