-1W00t! Thank you all for the… reviews. come one people. Plz. I'll love you forever. Anyway, I'm hoping this chapter is a lot less… I don't know, never mind, just R&R.

Chapter Three: Masquerading Motives

Raphael Sorel brushed his blonde hair out of his face; his red mask was now fully visible, as well as sharp and defined features, considered attractive by many women. His hair bothered him. Right now, it was just unattended to, but when he attempted to slick it back there was just a bit that hung in his face.

He was roughly five feet ten inches tall, and had a muscular build. He donned tight white pants with knee high brown boots, and gauntlets of the same color. He also wore a violet colored unbuttoned shirt. His prized rapier, which he called Flambert, hung in its sheath on his side. The weapon did not look like anything special, quite an ordinary sword. He looked into an alleyway, sighing semi-dramatically. Why had he been brought to such a level, as to help some woman he had met not an hour ago find her missing friend?
The face that influenced every step he took appeared in his head: Amy's. He would do anything to assure her well-being, even if it did seem tedious and redundant. Finding his foster daughter was well worth it.

He turned to the woman he was assisting at the moment; She had said her name was Demetrius, or something to that effect. He found her name to be ridiculous. Why would some one give their daughter a man's name?

Demetrius wasn't unattractive, in Raphael's opinion at least; she was a little under a foot shorter than Raphael, with short, bob cut black hair with reddish undertones. The girl's left eye was brown with very slight purple; usually a trait of a taint of some sort, while her right was covered in a black eye patch. A black muffler was tied around her neck, covering part of her nose and mouth. Black pirate boots were worn over plain, tight black pants. Her shirt resembled one that a pirate would wear in a dull red color. Onyx colored punisher shoulder pads went well with the punisher gauntlets of the same hue. On her side hung a white colored rapier; the hilt was elaborate, but not ridiculously so. Raphael had idly wondered if she could use the weapon.

Demetrius turned her head to Raphael, "Any sign of her?"

Raphael hadn't actually examined the alleyway, yet, and sauntered down the alleyway. He hardly remembered the description of the girl, anyway.

He discovered the corpse of a young woman, sprawled on the ground, deep puncture wounds on her neck. A pool of blood surrounded the body.
He kicked the corpse, "Could this be her?" he shouted, cocking his head to one side.

Demetrius rushed to the dead body, examining the wounds on her neck, "No, this doesn't fit the description at all… My friend's hair is black and she has a fair complexion compared to this young woman," She paused, contemplating an unknown subject.

Raphael shrugged, and paused for a moment, "I hear voices…" He mumbled, walking in the direction of the words.

He said inwardly, hoping that Demetrius would be of more use once her friend was retrieved… He regretted choosing this woman for help already, but wandering around the continent alone would be much more dangerous than it was six months ago. He cursed the damnable bandits that had been becoming less and less secretive because of the controversy that comes along with an important shattered sword.

For a short moment, he tried to remember any indication of who had shattered the sword. Was it the little priestess girl, possibly? He knew it didn't matter, however. Whoever it was did it in vain. It would come back together again.

Raphael stopped at the end of the street, viewing the fight that was taking place. About five men and women seemed to be ganging up on one young woman, shorter than most of the others with blue-black hair. It seemed as if two had died in battle.

Demetrius squealed, "That's her!" She said in a low voice, covering the area her mouth would be with her hand.

"Calm down," Raphael snapped, "You'll be a fat lot of use if you panic." He knew it'd be more difficult for the girl, for she cared for the woman being attacked.

Raphael had met bandits before. What cowards they were. If the strongest of them were to die, the rest would flee. There was a tall woman with a bastard sword.

He ran swiftly to the group and thrust his sword through the woman, causing the group to pause when they heard her yelp of pain.

Raphael must have been correct at his inference that she was the head of the group, and the four remaining scoundrels ran off. The woman that had apparently been the target collapsed and Raphael snorted. What if he was out to kill her, as well?

Demetrius ran to the woman and wrapped her arms around her neck. What a touching moment, Raphael thought to himself sarcastically.

"It's not very intelligent to just sit here like dead ducks," Raphael snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest impatiently, "I would suggest we venture back to that abandoned house we saw on the way here, Demetrius."

Demetrius stood up and looked to her friend, "Are you going to be able to walk…?" She asked, cocking her head to one side. The girl stood, swaying slightly on her feet and nodded. This gave Raphael a good opportunity to examine her better.

He found the black and white clad girl seemingly weak, for she was relatively thin and appeared fragile. He noticed the tambourines hanging from her side, which were around fourteen inches in diameter. Were those supposed to be used as weapons?

xxx

At the abandoned house, the two women talked amongst them as Raphael cleaned Flambert. Listening in occasionally, he learned the newcomer's name was Aeriah. The name sounded similar to something a Spanish noble would name their dearest lapdog; but that was only his opinion.

The girls sat talking, and Raphael couldn't help but voice his questions for the girl.

He cleared his throat, looking back at Aeriah viciously, "Why were they attacking you?" he inquired, furrowing his eyebrows. Honestly, if this girl was in trouble with the law, she was on her own. The local authorities weren't something Raphael was afraid of; it was that the time they wasted he was concerned about.

Aeriah cleared her throat, "What went on is none of your business; they're bandits and nothing more." She snapped, as if she had known what was on his mind. He didn't appreciate her brashness, however.

"Why was the one woman wielding a bastard sword?" Raphael questioned.

Aeriah shrugged weakly, "I don't know, a lot has probably changed. Four years ago all bandits carried were daggers, and some held tambourines… Now they have swords and maces and… whatever else."

Raphael nodded, for he did understand what she meant. He had noticed certain bandits carrying heavier weapons. Why, though? It was inane! Why try and win with a heavier weapon with less skill? He didn't see how one could win through brawn alone; but that was just his opinion.

The fact that the two women were so secretive unsettled Raphael. What they said could surely be suitable for him to hear… Unless they were discussing feminine matters… Then they could keep it to themselves. Their faces however weren't playful, but stern; they were conversing on a serious topic.

He realized that neither woman knew him well, however, so he could respect their secrecy… For now.

Demetrius apparently finished speaking to Aeriah when she approached Raphael, "You asked us to accompany you, correct?" She asked, holding one elbow and stroking her chin.

Raphael nodded, "Yes, that's quite accurate." he said bluntly, his face quite blank.Demetrius raised an eyebrow, "May I ask why? I'd think a man of your…" She paused, contemplating word use, "Situation, and by that I mean a man in good health, seemingly wealthy and strong, would need two women to accompany him."

Raphael's face remained neutral, but his eyes were cold, "That, my dear," He sneered, "Is something you don't need to know. If I come to trust you, which is highly unlikely, then it is possible I may tell you."

Demetrius nodded curtly, "Fair enough." She mumbled, obviously dissatisfied. His lips curled into a sardonic smirk. Demetrius gave Raphael a blank look, "You're going to be like this for the duration of the time, aren't you?"

Raphael cocked his head to one side, obviously confused. He had no idea what she was talking about. No matter, though. What she meant didn't really matter; he wanted her only for her help.

He dismissed her with a hand gesture, and she went back to her friend. He took this time to contemplate the situation at hand. He was stuck in France in this filthy city with two young girls, which seemed more trouble that they're worth. Was this really worth finding Amy?

He almost slapped himself for even thinking this; of course Amy was worth it! Why did he even doubt it?

xxx

Lionel's footsteps echoed as he ambled down the stone halls. Why did Riozaconn decide to inhabit an abandoned castle, anyway? It wasn't something Lionel had any say in, however, and continued.

Lionel was short, only about five feet four inches tall, with long, muscular arms and legs. His shoulder length auburn hair was pulled back, his strong features clearly visible. His old thief's dagger had been replaced with a zweihander swung across his back, a weapon he had been learning for years, but didn't use as a primary weapon until recently.

He entered the main room of the castle and arched a thick eyebrow in amusement. Riozaconn had really outdone himself with this place. On the stone floor, there was an exquisite Persian rug with cream colored fringes and an elegant design in reds, blues and other hues. On the ceiling there was a rusty chandelier that may have once been lovely. Though in its condition it appeared unusable, it worked as well as any new item. On the rug was a thick, wooden table that could easily fit twenty people.

Lionel's amusement faded, however, once he realized his situation. He was late for the meeting.

Riozaconn lifted his head, grinning falsely in order to receive Lionel properly. "Ah, Lionel, you're late. We were just discussing the matter at hand; are you familiar with it?"

Lionel nodded sharply, "Well, of course I do. It's only the biggest issue as of late."

Riozaconn closed his eyes in a solemn manner, tsk-tsking. "No need to be quite so rude about it, Lionel. Now, shall we?"

Lionel paused for a moment. Riozaconn was so overbearing, it was almost disgusting. He wasn't sure he exactly liked this fellow, in all of his faux-splendor. Sure, he was rich and pompous, but he only gained his wealth from doing dirty deeds; which wasn't quite fair. Though this would be expected from a leader of an order that was a good number of centuries old. "Fine, fine…" He trailed off, pulling out a cast iron and cherry wood chair.
"Isacre…. Well, she's gone too far this time." Said a rather gnarled looking woman, with a pair of half-moon spectacles perched precariously on her hooked nose.

"Indeed she has…. Looking out for a pair of vagabonds? What looking after would they ever need? They have the power of the swords on their side," Added a tall and lanky man with a scarred face that resembled stained leather.

Most of the group nodded in agreement. Lionel raised an eyebrow tentatively. Did he just say "the swords?" What swords did he mean? "Soul Calibur will eventually lead to Soul Edge, but we may skip that step, since they're already so close to each other." He stated flatly.

A chuckle rose from Riozaconn's direction, although it didn't sound true. "Alright, alright, enough bashing. We really do need to get to the-"

The leather faced man turned his head to Riozaconn, "Basically what you're saying is that we should destroy Isacre so she doesn't interfere with the girls," He interrupted in a matter-of-factly manner.

Riozaconn nodded to concur, though he certainly didn't seem to appreciate the man's lack of respect, "Yes, indeed. But she's very learned in the art of fighting; the problem is how to go about doing such."

The hook-nosed woman piped up. "We could ambush her," She said, appearing proud that she thought of this 'brilliant' idea herself.

Riozaconn rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temples as if to try to stimulate himself, "No, no, no…. She'd certainly see that coming. She knows who and what is following her."

Then, Lionel tapped a thick finger on the table, trying to gain attention, "Ahem…. Mind if I… Put in a word…?" Lionel said, smirking deviously as everyone turned to face him.