-1Author's Notes: Thank you, those who gave reviews and advice! Some advice I didn't follow, for I was almost done with the chapter. I think, once I finish or get much farther in the story I'll rewrite these earlier chapters. Anyway, here's chapter four, which took forever.

Chapter Four: The Burden Accompanying Redemption

In the Greek streets, a tall woman clad in black and white curtly stalked the streets. The only feature of hers visible was her ruby red eyes, which went well with her paper-white skin and wavy hair of the same hue. Under the black cloth that hid her face was a pair of thin, pale lips and a sloped nose. Her sickle, colored crimson, was wrapped around her waist as a belt at the moment. She found it to be a useful way of hiding the weapon… It was better to be creative than to strive to be like everyone else and wear their weapon in a normal way.

She was growing frustrated with her current situation; the woman she had met the other day had told her to meet her on this street, did she not? People these days were so unreliable. More often than not it was stupidity or impudence. She was above that, by far.

The albino sighed dramatically. She should have known the woman was probably out to waste her time. She had only wanted information! Did that really warrant a lie? She shook her head; she was being paranoid. She was probably just late.

After wandering awhile, she noticed a figure clad in red. She could only see the burgundy hair of the figure, and decided that she'd get closer to get a better look.

As she approached, the woman's features became more apparent; her large ice-blue eyes, her thin nose and lips sitting on an oval face. This was most definitely the woman from last night. The woman was even wearing the same red alchemist's dress and the same black fishnets, black saint's boots, and a ribbon scarf in a dusty white hue. Swung on her back was a lilac shield, and in a plain gray sheath was a short sword.

The albino lifted her light eyebrows, "I didn't think I'd find you." She stated, scanning the shorter woman.

The woman, named Morgan, shrugged curtly, "It would have been your fault if you hadn't." She said, her eyes observing the woman as well. Well, wasn't this fun?

"True, but we're not here to discuss the possibilities of whose fault it was," The albino snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "Now, tell me all you know."

Morgan bit her lip and sighed, "Well, you see…" She began, at which point the other woman sighed dramatically. This was never a good thing to begin a conversation with, especially in matters such as this, "I, myself, don't have the information. My employer, however, does."

The albino scoffed, "Make that apparent to the next person that needs any information you don't have."

Morgan narrowed her eyes, and continued, "I thought he'd tell me, but he won't… So I scheduled you a meeting with him, but I never got a name from you," She stated flatly, arching an eyebrow, as if to ask for a name. The albino woman ignored this request.

"Who is your employer? And how do you work for him?" The woman asked her deep voice cold. She wasn't going to waste all of her time dancing around the subject, but she found those questions to be vital ones. What if she happened to work for the order? Though unlikely it was possible.

"I am a bodyguard for Dante Matof," Morgan told the woman simply, and quite impatiently. The woman got the message and nodded, signaling the girl to lead her to her employer. Dante Matof. The name set a light off in the woman's head, but she couldn't quite point out where she had heard it. Maybe it would be known once she saw the man.

XXX

"Daddy, who's coming today?" Little Nita Matof asked, her large, eight year old chocolate eyes staring up at her father, rather puzzled. Dante smiled to himself. Nita was quite an inquisitive young girl, wasn't she? He wasn't surprised she knew he had a visitor, however. Dante had always been restless before any type of meeting with another person.

Nita was a very small, tan girl, only barely four feet tall with short black hair in pigtails rested high on her head. She wore a simple white dress with a pale green gown that reached her knees.

Dante kneeled, patting his daughter's head, "You have no reason to worry, dear," He cooed, and his daughter beamed and ran off to play with her toys. He chuckled momentarily, and then shifted his thoughts to more serious topics. Morgan was taking awhile acquiring the woman for her meeting. Maybe she was lost, or something to that effect? He brushed his dark hair out of his weathered, tan face and blue-green eyes. He hated work.

Morgan sauntered in, bowing slightly, "The woman that had requested to see you has arrived," She said flatly glancing behind her for a moment, "I really don't like her, sir." She said in a low tone of voice, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Send her in." He responded quite blankly, paying no heed to Morgan's warning. She didn't like anyone, ever. She nodded and another woman entered, wearing thick clothing, concealing the majority of her facial features.

The woman removed her thick clothing, revealing her normal attire, which consisted of a red leather corset and a pair of black ring pants, accompanied by black pirate boots. She had silver braces on her wrists as well, and a belt, with a blade attached… He knew he knew the woman from somewhere.

The woman's mild surprise was apparent, but she remained calm, "Hello, Dante," She greeted with a slight bow, "How are you on this fine Greek day?"

Dante chuckled, "There's no need for small talk. I know we recognize each other, but from where?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He contradicted himself, yes, but he found where they knew each other from to be crucial.

Isacre raised an eyebrow, but responded, "Did you ever work for Riozaconn?"

Dante beamed, immediately knowing who the woman was, "Isacre! Yes, you were Riozaconn's right hand woman before Lionel came to the order, correct?"

She glowered at the memory of those days, and her disgust of Riozaconn, but nodded, "Yes, that's quite right…" She mumbled, "What's the imbecile up to now?"

"Looking for you," Dante began, motioning for Isacre to sit on one of the elaborate chairs, "The whole order is making a large deal out of your betrayal, as they'd like to call it. They say you have found the vessel for the Soul Edge…?"

Isacre frowned, "That's why I came, actually…" She said, sitting down gingerly, "I know it's a possibility, but, I don't actually have a vessel. For either sword."

Dante smirked, "That's quite a shame."

Isacre scowled, crossing one leg over the other, "Yes, quite… Now, I come here to ask if you have any information on the person that could be wielding it…?"

Dante laughed heartily, "That's funny, Isacre. Tell me, how many people have been searching for Soul Edge? How many people have come into contact with the sword?"

The woman scowled, her blood-red eyes narrowing, "How is this pertinent?" She hissed, obviously growing aggravated.

"Many people have. And since the fragments are spread, there could be multiple people carrying fragments in their bodies! Though more likely than not, they wouldn't be human."

Isacre frowned, "And that's not depressing," She said sarcastically.

Dante leaned on a nearby desk, "Well, it is what you get for lying. And betraying. Why did you leave them, anyway?"

Isacre stood, resting her hands on her thin hips, "Riozaconn is a moron. Lionel is more than likely the man behind it all. Amott is probably contributing to it as well, but it is probably mostly Lionel. Mondeklipse would have fallen long ago if not for I."

Dante snorted, "Don't get cocky," He advised, furrowing his eyebrows. The young woman was strong, he had heard of her accomplishments, but there was no need to be haughty, "I will give you credit for the mansion assault a few years back, obtaining a piece of Soul Calibur and all, but you did not retrieve the whole thing. Besides, that mission was in vain, Riozaconn lost the portion recently."

"Lovely," Isacre growled, rolling her eyes, "If he were any slower he'd probably be going backwards. In time."

Dante nodded in agreement, "He is rather dense. Does he really even know what the Spirit Sword is?" He inquired, cocking his head to one side.

Isacre scoffed, "More likely than not, no. He knows it opposes Soul Edge, and I suppose that is all that matters."

Dante raised an eyebrow, "Well, then. I suppose-" at this point the front door had been knocked down rather loudly, bits of wood flying in different directions. A man stood, clad in gray assassin robes. His pale face's features were sharp and defined, though the purple veins that showed through seemed to be the focal point of his face. His eyes were a dull gray, devoid of zeal. He held an almost abnormally long, worn rapier, the hilt a simple blue color. The first quarter of the blade was covered in dark, crimson fluid. The thick, blonde hair on his head was pulled back into a ponytail.

The intruder grinned wryly, "Why, hello there, fancy seeing you here, Izzy." He mused, slipping into a fighting stance.

Isacre immediately recognized the man as Ivan, a younger member of Mondeklipse. While most of the members were in their forties, while Riozaconn was in his late twenties and Isacre in her thirties, Ivan was a mere twenty-four year old. The only reason he was a member was because he had basically spent his life with the rapier, or so she heard. She studied his stance momentarily; it seemed typical of one who wields a rapier, though he certainly did bounce around a bit more.

Isacre unhooked her belt, allowing the vertebrae of her weapon to spread and her sickle to become its full length. The blade hovered a few inches off the ground, swaying slightly. The blade was crescent shaped and the weapon as a whole seemed as if it maintained very well with constant care.

Ivan thrust his blade at Isacre at chest level, which she evaded by ducking down swiftly, sweeping her right leg under Ivan, causing him to lose his balance momentarily. This gave Isacre the opportunity to wrap her weapon around Ivan's neck; a plan that would have worked if he hadn't recovered sooner than she thought and forced the hilt of his rapier to the side of her skull. He then kneed her stomach, causing the woman to double over. Finally recovering, she was able to avoid a strike which would have a rather nasty result by wrapping the sickle around his blade. Her hands crept up several vertebrae and tugged, causing the sword to shatter. The young man rather obviously panicked at his sudden lack of a weapon, and Isacre wrapped the weapon around his neck, pushing him against the wall.

Isacre couldn't help but be curious. Surely, Ivan would put up a fight. No matter, she had him. She knew Ivan was extremely anxious of his position, yet he attempted to keep a cool demeanor. "Well, Izzy, isn't this a familiar position?" He asked, referring to an episode the two had been through shortly before she had left the order.

Isacre glowered fiercely, "I doubt this has a sexual outcome." She stated flatly, taking a deep breath, "I'm past that, now."

"You think denying your lust for flesh suddenly makes amends for everything you did in Mondeklipse?" Ivan scoffed, rolling his eyes, "The road to redemption is long, Izzy. Full of twists and turns," he paused, shaking his head to move a few straw strands of hair from his face, "It's rather complicated. Would you rather not stay on the path you turned your back on?"

Isacre did contemplate this for a moment, though her desire for salvation from her deeds while working for the order that killed her son overruled. Immediately, he knew trying to convince her to return wasn't going to work. She tightened the weapon's grip, the edges of the weapon tearing into Ivan's neck, though not severely.

"Why are you here, anyway?" She questioned, narrowing her eyes, "Is there a bounty on my head, now?" Honestly, she thought, Mondeklipse is just getting more ridiculous.

Ivan smirked, "I was just in the neighborhood. Happened to spot you." He put simply, arching his eyebrows slightly.

"So you're… stalking me?" She asked slowly, knitting her eyebrows.

Ivan shrugged, "Seeing as how you are wanted, I suppose it would be beneficial to waste a little of my time in order to turn you in for the money to actually make something of myself."

Isacre absentmindedly licked her lips, "You dislike Mondeklipse, then?"

Ivan nodded, "You see, my family was kind of screwed over after my brother ran away, so I left. Wouldn't you like to be more than a lapdog for nobles?"

Isacre shrugged, "That's not my concern," She said, uncoiling the sickle from Ivan's neck. He immediately wiped the little blood dripping from his injury.

"You know, Izzy," He said, gathering the major shards of his weapon for later repair, "The order will likely welcome you back. Riozaconn is a fool; he'd not think anything of it."

Isacre sighed, "Just go." She barked, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. Damn, he was persistent. Ivan sighed, nodding a good-bye to Isacre and silently and quickly darting out of the room.

Isacre sighed, scanning the room for Dante. He must have been watching over his daughter, or something to that affect. She couldn't blame him, however.

She thought for a brief moment, before gathering her thick over clothing and sauntering away from the building, sighing distantly. This visit really hadn't been beneficial, had it? The only purpose this served was to travel back into the past, really. She didn't need to be reminded of the experience she had with Ivan. Nor did she need a reminder of her son's death. Why was it that it seemed each step intended toward redemption was two steps back and towards failure?

She watched as the sun fell, painting the sky various colors of red and gold. How ironic, she thought, setting her eyes on the ground below her to avoid gazing into the blood colored sky. There was too much blood on her hands… Would her plan to obliterate Mondeklipse cleanse it?

XXX

Ivan sat sulking, rubbing his neck and growling in frustration. This little expedition was two fold; on one hand, he'd be rewarded for returning Isacre, and eliminating a threat, while on the other, she wouldn't be out there…

Ivan shook his head as if clearing it. This was ridiculous. Why was it that the woman occupied his mind so often? Was she some sort of witch, or something? Very doubtful. Though, he did seriously contemplate it.

He released a sound which was a blend between a sigh and a growl… Amott would not be very happy.

XXX