/Language Translation/
C'est incroyable – It's incredible.
Mon petit chou – my little cabbage (term of endearment)
La maison de Richault – The house of Richault
Tu veux une pomme? – Do you want an apple?
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On the outskirts of Paris, in a large and foreboding mansion, Raphael Sorel was frantically searching through the library of the mansion he was now a "guest" in.
"The old man sure was fond of reading, look at the amount of books he's collected," thought the young fencer, as he wheeled the ladder he was standing on over to check the next stack of books.
Raphael was a French noble from a long line of other blood sucking aristocrats. For the greater part of his life he was proud to be included in their number. He definitely looked the part, with a full head of coiffed blonde hair and sporting the latest style in French fashion. Raphael was also given a treacherous, calculating nature to go along with his noble exterior. In the realm of nobility there is nothing outside of pleasantries, balls, visits to summer homes, and general underhandedness and subterfuge. Life was about weaving a house of lies and living in it for the gentry of France, and Raphael was no exception. But that was before he was ousted from his roost, and was hunted down by his own relatives. However, the trauma of his recent exploits was far from the young man's mind. Instead, his head was filled with finding more about the origins of the 'evil seed'.
The 'evil seed' as it came to be known in many circles in Europe, was a strange madness that overtook the less fortunate once they came in contact with it. Few people, if anyone, really knew what physical form the 'evil seed' took on, or if it was all just a stupid rumor. However, as far as Raphael was concerned, it's power was real and something that needed to be understood and harnessed. It was the rumor of the 'evil seed' that started the chain of events that ousted him from his cushy lifestyle. A relative of his had been struck with the madness of the 'evil seed', and using that as an excuse, allowed many rival noble families to target the Sorel's. In exchange for safety, Raphael's own family turned on him and forced him into fleeing. Such betrayal was common among the nobility, but this time Raphael was the injured party.
Fallen from grace, Raphael's mind was now bent on understanding the origins of the 'evil seed'. Looking through book after book, he started to get frustrated.
"Information on the evil seed has to be somewhere in here. Don't tell me I got rid of that old miser for nothing," sneered Raphael as he threw a book down to the floor in disgust. It had been only a week since Raphael invited himself and Amy into la maison de Richault. After spending weeks in the slums of Paris, living at the very depths of poverty, Raphael felt it was time to enter back into his element. Using his renowned wit and charm, he talked the owner of the house, Gilbert Richault, into letting he and Amy stay. Richault, a pot bellied old French man from Avignon, was very reluctant to let someone with the Sorel family name stay in his home, but after seeing Amy, the old man acquiesced. Richault mainly dealt in exotic and rare antiques, and had a ready and ample market with the nobility of Paris. Aristocrats were usually suckers for the words "ancient" and "rare" especially when applied to strange looking pieces of junk, and Richault used this to his full advantage when building up his possessions.
The fortune the old man had gathered over the years mostly went into the fabulous Richault mansion. The building had an innumerable number of rooms, each furnished with exotic furniture, mostly from the orient. The libraries were the main attraction, as there were three, each practically overflowing with ancient texts. Even the homes Raphael used to stay in were nothing compared to the mansion as far as size and the general splendor of furnishing.
"It really is too bad you can't take it with you," Raphael thought to himself, darkly mocking the old man.
Before he and Amy had become residents of the Richault mansion, Raphael was a homeless wretch, begging for money on the streets of Paris. Ousted from the ranks of the Parisian elite, he was a wanted man. Each new day brought new torment, as he was mostly hunted down by police and had to hide in hovels and slums. During that time, he had no friends, and his foes wanted nothing more than his speedy demise. It was during this trying time that Raphael found Amy. While perusing through an ancient encyclopedia, Raphael thought back to only a few weeks ago…
Lying in a gutter, on a grey lifeless day, Raphael had just about given up all will to live. The stench of the slum he had been hiding in was so putrid and foul any normal person would vomit upon entering. Sadly for the ex-noble, such places were now his home, and the crows that picked at the garbage his dinner guests. The sun had faded awhile ago, wrapped away in swirling grey clouds. It was when Raphael had almost willed himself to die, that a young girl handed him an apple.
"Tu veux une pomme?"
Immediately taking the fruit, Raphael ate it like a ravenous dog. An apple…who knew such a simple fruit could taste so sweet? Looking up at the girls face, the young man thought he saw an angel of mercy.
"Merci, what is your name little girl?"
"My name is Amy," she said. Amy wasn't a sweet child, and any joy or playfulness that she might share with other children her age had long died in the slum she had been living in. Raphael stood, no longer longing for death, but instead longing to understand what he felt when he saw the innocence in Amy's eyes.
It was for her sake he was searching for the 'evil seed'. After meeting the little girl he spent a lot of time soul searching. Given his experiences in the slum, Raphael saw that there are millions of people who died in the gutter without hope. The only reason for this is because they lived for the purposes of the aristocrats, who had no other desire in their life than to consume and destroy themselves and others in petty wars and secret plots.
"I can't let that kind of power land in the hands of some noble or aristocrat. No, they'd use it to continue their pointless existence until everyone was consumed by their desire for destruction. I will find the evil seed and use its power myself to protect Amy and all other children like her from the cruel fate life had in store for them," resolved the young fencer.
Snapping back into reality, Raphael single mindedly continued his search through the library, picking through volume after volume of texts and books. While reading through another encyclopedia, Raphael was interrupted by the sound of a little girl.
"What are you looking for?" asked Amy, a young scrubby looking red haired girl. She was dressed in a nightgown Raphael had found for her in one of the many rooms of the castle.
"Amy…you surprised me. No, it's nothing. I'm just trying to see if there is anything interesting in the library…" Raphael was terrible at dealing with children, especially small ones. Most of the nobles were all raised by their nannies, and the parents were more like banks than objects of nurturing. Rubbing her eyes, the little girl raised a small brown teddy bear in the air.
"I found this in my room. Isn't he rather adorable?"
"Yes he is. Aren't you tired … sweet heart?" The word didn't seem to come out right, but at the very least it was worth the effort.
"Well I am tired, and this place is kind of scary at night. Will you tuck me in? It helps me sleep at night."
"Of course, here, let's go back to your room together," said Raphael climbing down the ladder and approaching the little girl. Taking her hand, he led her down the many hallways of the dark mansion back to the girl's room. Raphael felt a little odd holding such a small hand, but he knew he would get used to it as time passed. Lifting Amy up, Raphael placed her on the bed and covered her with the dark blue down comforter.
"Good night my little princess," said Raphael, kissing the girl on the forehead.
"Good night Ralphy," said the little girl closing her eyes and falling into slumberland.
Raphael never had a nick name or a pet name, and Ralphy was hardly to his taste. But when Amy said it, oh when Amy called him that, his heart soared. She was the innocence Raphael never had, and he wanted to protect her.
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Paris was a beautiful city during the day, but rather mysterious once night fell. The many back alleys and narrow streets indicative of the capital of France blanketed the city in mystery. Wrapped in a dark grey cloak, Ivy Valentine was making her way through the foggy city, her weapon concealed in a sheath beneath her cloak. Ivy was no stranger to the darkness; in fact she often welcomed it. Hearing footsteps, she hid behind the wall in a back alley, waiting for two drunken sailors to pass. The lone woman was on a search for a shard of Soul Edge she knew to be in the city. Problem was, the vision from the talisman didn't give her an exact location or enough clues to really track it down in the large city.
"This is really starting to become a headache," thought Ivy as she held her fingers to her forehead. She really couldn't handle stress all that well and often got tension headaches.
Wandering the city for a few more hours under the cover of shadow did little in the way of providing her clues. Just when she was about to give up, Ivy overheard two patrolmen chatting. Ivy, like most of the upper class she belonged to, learned French. She was perfectly fluent. One of the guards took out a cigarette and lit it with a match procured from his pocket. Taking a long drag, he let out a great puff of smoke.
"C'est incroyable, Pierre. Did you hear about that old mansion on the northern hill?"
"Non, Jacques, why?" said the other guard, taking out a cigarette of his own and lighting it.
"The old man that lived in that mansion was said to be a hermit. Never left his house in over fifteen years, had his servants do all of the shopping. The man used to be in antiques, built up a fortune selling whatever he found,"
"Yeah I hear you can make quite a pretty penny doing stuff like that."
"Well no one has heard from him in awhile. A little birdy tells me he invited someone to come live with him. Quite a shocker too, they say the old boy isn't very personable."
"Probably some broad trying to move in on the old dude's wealth. All she'd have to do is show the old man some leg, and bam, she'd be in."
"Something tells me that's not the case Jacques. The man is old, besides, if you were rich enough to maintain your wealth for so long, you wouldn't get tricked so easily."
"Well anyone know who has moved in?"
"No one's seen anyone come or go from that place in awhile, but some of the neighbors say they hear strange sounds at night. Kind of spooky really."
Ivy had heard enough, this might be the clue she needs. Walking rather boldly towards the two soldiers, Ivy pulled back her hood and stated quite plainly "Where is that mansion?" The soldiers were taken aback by the woman's brash manner.
"Well where did you come from? Have you been listening the whole time mon petit chou?" said Pierre, flashing a smile, trying his best to flirt. Ivy was totally unamused.
"I will ask again, where is the mansion? I do not have time for these silly games." If there was anyone that totally lacked tact or the ability to banter, it was Ivy Valentine.
"It's on the north side of the town on a big hill, you really can't miss it. But forget about that, what's say you and me go to the tavern down the street and get us some wine. I'm sure once we've had a few drinks you'll be more interested in visiting my house than that old mans…" said Jacques trying to put his arm around Ivy.
"Don't touch me vermin," replied the angered woman, knocking the man's arm away.
"I don't take no lip from a woman! Learn some respect." replied Jacques, angrily slapping Ivy across the face. Not letting up, the patrolmen prepared to deliver another blow.
Seemingly acting on its own, Ivy's whip blade extended out from its scabbard and pierced the hapless patrolman straight through the stomach, jutting out his back. Moving away, Jacques quickly fell to the floor grasping his wound, and was slowly dying. Pierre pulled out a hand gun, but was stopped when the whip blade cut off his hand. Screaming in pain, the handless officer fell to his knees, staring at his stump in disbelief. The whip blade retracted neatly back in its scabbard. Smirking, Ivy left the scene, and made her way across town where she would investigate the mansion. She had no idea what was waiting for her.