Edward Falcon collapsed to his knees, horror clear on his face and eye wide in despair as he faced the reality that was his father's study.

The room had been torn to pieces, the walls and door smashed in; the window shattered. The floorboards all had scorch marks across them and the desk itself was blackened almost to the point where it might become charcoal. Papers were scattered in a tangled mess across the floor, ink pots spilled contents staining whatever had been written on them.

"NO!" The young Falcon cried out, smashing a fist on the floor in frustration. He had tried to get back as fast as he could but no amount of speed could have done him any good. He was too late. Valgas had taken Pride.

"Young Master, If I might be so bold…." Apollus started, the old butler standing beside him. "Now is not the time for despair. Now we have to… we have to carry on as best we can."

Georgina Falcon was once more in hysterics. Her nerves had been frayed recently but this final action pushed them over the edge. Reduced to a gibbering wreck she had been confined to her room by her brother, Thomas Archon who had come after news of Pride's abduction had reached him.

He was a tall man with fiery red hair and dark brown eyes. He dressed in fine coat and carried a cane around with him, despite the fact there was nothing wrong with his legs nor his back. He took over the managing of the estate until Falcon came back, almost flinging himself off the edge of Rouge's flying carpet in his desperation to see if his father was alright.

"Nobody saw what happened m'boy." His uncle told him. "The gardener was tidying up the new greenhouse and all he heard was a loud sound coming from Pride's study."

"The man's done for." Gourmand muttered for the first time looking sad for someone other than himself.

"It's all my fault." Falcon muttered as he sat himself down on the edge of his room in the mansion, a large chamber with large wooden shelves laden with old playthings like puppets, wooden soldiers and wind up toys. There were books as well but not many of them. A punching bag hung from the ceiling, suspended by a chain.

Around him, looking at him with mostly sympathetic faces were several of those who had come back with him to England.

Apollus was there of course. Gourmand had returned to resume his kitchen duties. Julia, as always, was by his side. She refused to leave him after the fate of his father had been learned, following him around almost like a lost puppy; refusing to leave him by himself even for an instant. Strangely he did not complain about it.

Ryoma stood by himself, arms folded inside his blue robes as he started out the window with an unblinking gaze.

"You're being too hard on yourself." The samurai told him with a sigh, not looking around. "Pride saved our lives by stealing that stone before Valgas. He did what he had to do."

"But I could have given him more time!" Falcon snapped angrily. "I could have delayed Valgas, given my father more time to get away."

"Oh be realistic." Ryoma retorted, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. "If we'd have fought Valgas he'd have ripped us apart."

As a samurai, it was hard for Ryoma to admit that. There was supposed to be no enemy that a true samurai warrior would not fight. Valgas however was not an average opponent.

It was hard to describe such a vicious monster. Fast, powerful, strong and endurable. It was as if his body had no physical limits. Even without the Power Stone of Darkness, he had beaten off three of them in fusion form and then his own Fusion had nearly killed them all.

"And he'll do a lot more to us now." Falcon muttered in defeat. "Valgas has the light stone… it's over…"

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't think so, darling." Julia stated suddenly as she adopted a thoughtful expression. Everyone looked around to look at her. "Sorry to sound grim an all, but ya'll might think if Valgas had the light stone he wouldn'a had to take your dad. He'd have just killed him.

Plus I think the world would be… ya know…ending if he had the stone."

Ryoma paused for a moment to consider it.

"She's right!" Apollus declared. "Valgas must have kidnapped your father… to force him to reveal where he must have hidden the stone of Light."

"Apollus…if you're trying to make me feel better, you're not succeeding." Falcon warned him.

"But it means he's alive!" The manservant came over a bit too enthusiastic. "And that the Light Stone isn't in Valgas' clutches. All we have to do is find the both of them."

"Oh fantastic, and that's a job that warms the cockles of my heart." He stood up off his bed and paced the room. "Dad could have hidden the stone anywhere and only god knows where Valgas took him, or what he's doing to make dad talk." Falcon stopped and angrily smacked his fist against the shelf. Several of the toys feel off and onto the floor. "I feel so helpless!"

Julia moved to try and comfort him but Ryoma stopped her. The samurai shook his head, giving her a silent message that it would be best to let Falcon sort this out on his own.

Apollus moved to clean up the mess of toys on the floor as Falcon leaned against the wall.

"I think that old puppet of yours is missing." The butler muttered absently but Falcon wasn't listening. He had more things on his mind right now than a missing toy. "Wait a second…" Apollus began again, standing up slowly. In his hand was the largest of a set of wooden soldiers Edward had gotten when he was ten.

"What's the matter?" Julia asked, looking over the old man's shoulder. Engraved into the back of the soldier's hat was the letter 'P'. The letter sat in what looked like a plug, cut into the wood and then replaced.

Falcon, now curious, took a look himself. Realization flooded into his eyes and he snatched the soldier out of Apollus' hand.

"I've seen my father carve wood, that's his initial!" He took hold of the edges of the wooden plug and pulled it out, revealing the inside of the toy to be hollow. "Inside, tucked and folded, as an old sheet of parchment. Carefully, Falcon pulled it out, a smile widening on his face.

"He must have known Valgas was coming for him… so he left us instructions!" He declared, pulling the parchment out and unfolding it. "Instructions on where to find the…" He stopped dead when he exposed the parchment to the light.

"Those don't look like no instruction I've ever seen, mahself." Julia replied. The parchment was not a letter as Falcon had hoped. It was a very old sheet of preserved paper. Drawn upon it was what looked like a map, but of landmasses none of them had ever seen before. Falcon, who had travelled the world, was sure there were no lands like these. There were captions and decorations around the map that looked medieval in origin

Words were written on the bottom, words in old Latin. Falcon was a little rusty and couldn't read any of them. Printed on the top left hand side of the paper was an icon.

It was drawn in a very old style, almost tapestry like. It showed two knights with the red cross of Christ on their breastplates. These two knights were riding the same horse, each holding a lance on either side. Around them in a circle was more Latin writing.

It was a good thing, Mel conceded, that she had so many spare rooms. If she's known she could get workers who would help her run her shop for nothing but room and board she would have started long ago. Ayame returned to her and took up the job of being their waitress, taking the food out to the customers that her brother cooked in the kitchen in the back of the shop.

Kikanojo was, amongst other things, a marvellous chef; so much so that it would probably be in everyone's best interests 'NOT' to introduce him to Gourmand. At the moment in was busy amongst the tables, ovens and work surfaces in the backroom preparing various meals. They had very few customers today but he was making food for their own team more than anything.

The two of them were suffering far more than they were letting on, Mel could sense that the minute they'd stepped through the door. From what she understood, the two of them were the only living members of their family that was left. Their old friends, relatives, teachers and mentors had all been massacred. There was nobody left from their old world anymore.

As such they had thrown themselves into their new lives here, desperately trying to put a happy face on it. While it seemed quite sad, Mel conceded that there was little else they could do.

Gunrock was in desperate need of a cheering up meal. The large Mexican sat by his lonesome in the far corner, looking melancholy and almost desperately sad. His Children had remained behind in the Lupine village, under the constant watch of Galuda's people. There they would be safe, untouchable and out of Valgas' reach. Thus placed, Valgas no longer had any hold over Gunrock.

Still he looked far beyond glum at this point. Mel pitied him.

Ryoma sensei, the silent but strong type as Mel was able to see, often sat by himself, reading the Japanese books she had out in the shop. He cleaned the shop after the customers left. Ganamon did quite a good job of it too. In fact he started doing it even before Mel asked him. He had a strange sort of work ethic that Mel was finding a little hard to understand.

Rouge's own mentor, the small Arabic woman Ghana, was a friendly contrast from Ganamon. She was bright, talkative, cheerful and she brightened up the whole shop with her optimistic attitude. When she arrived, she looked starved and dehydrated but Kikanjojo's cooking soon saw to that.

"And so that's basically what happened." The large red skinned man, Galuda told her, finishing his tale of the horrible events that took place in Egypt. He had his arm in a sling and various other bandages wounds to prove it.

Mel sighed with a shake of her head.

"And so now Pride pays the price." She muttered.

"To save our lives." Galuda corrected gently. "Edward Falcon's father is an honourable man. May the spirits of both his ancestors and mine protect him."

"Amen." The red haired woman glanced up towards the ceiling. "How's your friend?"

The American gunslinger, known only as Accel, was upstairs in bed. Out of all of them, he had been injured the most. He had broken a few ribs and his skin had been badly scorched. He would heal but it would take time. It was best for the sandy haired youth to stay in bed. Galuda had applied a salve to help with the healing but for the short term all it had done had made him scream out in pain.

"He has a strong spirit." The red skin replied. "I imagine he will heal soon. Bodily injuries mean nothing to him. It's the spiritual wound in his soul I worry more about."

Mel looked at him questioningly.

"Spiritual wound?" She repeated. Galuda paused, looking thoughtful.

"It is a long story." He eventually said. "And I'm not sure he would appreciate me blurting it out. He's rather proud and prefers, rather sadly, to suffer in silence." The red skin looked directly at her. "I will say this, for your sake, the presence of older women make him…uncomfortable."

Mel blinked.

"Is he then…like Kikanojo?" She asked with implication, casting a short glance towards the open kitchen door. Sounds of loud clanks from pots came drifting out.

"What… no, no!!!" Galuda added quickly, looking a bit taken aback. "He lost someone very close to him… and people who remind him of her, put him on edge."

"Well I'm not that old." Mel sounded a little offended. "I'm only twenty nine."

"My apologises." The red skin stated, bowing low so she could not see his grim smile.

Rouge, who was sitting at the nearby table giggled briefly and tried to look inconspicuous as Mel shot her a glare.

Mel was almost into middle age but she carried her youth quite well and disliked anything that made her seem older.

Angrily she stamped off and ascended the wooden stairs to the rooms above the shop floor.

Accel has been placed in a bed which had a window with a view of the street on the opposite side of the building, down which one could see the harbour. She pushed the door open and peeked inside. The American was sitting up in bed, looking none the worse for them despite the scorch marks across his arms and chest. What attracted her attention more than the handsome face and straw like, sandy coloured hair, was the metallic plate covering the heart side of his chest.

The plate was round and engraved with the imagery of a skull, its outer edge seeped underneath his skin as if someone had surgically attached it to him. It was an ugly mark but strangely it did nothing to blemish his overall attractive figure.

"Howdy." He muttered without looking at her. "Sorry if this grosses you out." He tapped the metallic seal with his left hand.

"No… it's just…interesting to look at." She replied, coming into the room completely. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Try having a piece of metal lodged near your heart and then you get the idea." His tone was more abrupt than Mel found appropriate. But given his injuries, including that plate, she let it slide.

"Well why get it done?" She asked, coming to his bed side. "Is it some kind of religion thing?"

Accel tilted his head back and laughed out load. His laugh was a rich kind of laugh but still it made Mel a little irritated.

"Good lady, I'm an atheist. I lost mah faith years ago. The reason for this…" The tapped the seal again. "… is personal."

"But why?" She found herself saying.

"This seal is ancient." He told her. "It's survived the times of Ancient Egypt and is older still. I believe it was forged in Atlantis.

Many men have…er… had it over the centuries. Many have born the title of Accel, the fast one, warder of the stones."

"Warder?" She repeated.

"As Accel, I have a duty to perform." He told her. "Our line watches over the stones and the ancient resting place of Atlantis, preparing for the inevitable day that the ancient city rises out of the depths."

"Rises…"

"That is the Acolytes ultimate goal. To raise Atlantis, establish its empire and use the power of the Stones to re-forge the world back to its ancient state."

"It must be a sad life." She commented and Accel finally looked directly at her. "Knowing the pain that plate much cause you, physically and emotionally as you're bound to such an obligation."

Accel looked, briefly, like he was going to reply but then thought better of it and fell into silence.

"It is." He replied. "Very lonely. I'm apart from all other men. That is the duty… and curse of the mantle of Accel. Until the end, this seal must be carried by an Accel. Only when Atlantis and its vengeful spirit are finally laid to rest can Accel rest as well.

I inherited this burden from the only person who gave my life meaning. She taught me how to live after I almost wasted my existence. She taught me much and soon I realised she was grooming me to be her successor.

I accepted without question."

"And you knew what pain it would cause you?"

"I owed her much." Accel replied. "Too much. Even this can not repay her for so much she gave me. When her time came all too soon and when it did, she past me the seal and it attached itself to me." He ran his fingers across the scars around the metallic skull. "Before she died she told me of my new purpose.

I am the last Accel. There will be no more after me.

The line stops here."

For a single instant, Mel felt more pity in her soul than she had in her entire lifetime. This young man was so deadly scarred that it dwarfed her own emotional wounds. She could sense such pain in him that it was hard to bare.

She moved forward almost as if to hug him but at the last second refrained from doing so. It would have been improper. At least right now.

"Soup?" She asked, trying to look a little more cheerful.

Accel smiled.

Falcon arrived with the others a short while later. He was overly excited, talking about half a dozen things at once. It came out in an almost illegible gibbering. He was holding a piece of rolled up parchment in one hand, waving it about as if he'd just found the holy grail.

Gunrock just turned away, trying to behave as if he wasn't there. Falcon paused, seeing this and looked at him. He handed the rolled up piece of paper to Apollus and moved over.

"It's not your fault, my friend." He told the large Mexican.

"I betrayed you." Gunrock muttered without looking up. "I betrayed and lied to you… to all of you." He covered his face with his large hands. "I am ashamed."

"You did it for the most noble of reasons." Galuda told him, stepping forward him and placing his hand on Gunrock's shoulder. "What would any father not be willing to do to save the lives of his children?"

"Dwell on it no more." Falcon added. "We all forgive you and I pray that perhaps you might forgive me for my harsh words."

Gunrock looked up at him surprise.

"Me forgive you?" He asked almost in amazement. He sniffed loudly. Julia handed him her hanky.

It was clear Gunrock was going to need a little time to gather himself and so in the meantime, Mel came downstairs and cleared a space for them at one of the larger tables. Surprisingly, Accel also descended. He had changed his clothes to something more English, covering up the metallic seal over his heart and most of the scorched skin. He looked a little uncomfortable with his broken ribs but he refused to be sent away, insisting on staying to see what Falcon had uncovered.

Apollus unrolled the parchment and laid it across the table. Kikanojo came out of the kitchen with food for them all and he joined his sister as they examined the map they had discovered.

"It doesn't look like any place I've ever seen before." Wang-Tang admitted, looking at the strange landmass on the map. It was a single giant continent without any islands or other land around it. It wasn't a map of a small island either. Somehow it seemed far larger than that.

"How's your Latin?" Falcon asked Mel. "I'm afraid I'm out of practise."

Mel took a look at the writing around the edges of the map and frowned at them.

"Ayame, be a dear and fetch me that large book on the shelf over there." Ayame obeyed and came back with a large leatherback book. The title was illegible.

Mel began flicking through it, using it as reference in order to translate the words. It took her a while but eventually she began to deceiver it.

"The light from the world that was before and will be again." She started, reading each word one by one slowly. "Nine points in the heavens, shattered from the one to be re-forged in the fires of the terrible refiner."

"Well that's vague." Rouge muttered.

"Hold steadfast…" Mel continued, finishing off the translation. "Be true to the teachings of the lord and his son and salvation shall be delivered unto thee, so you are of proven faith."

"So it's a Christian relic." Apollus stated. "Although the two knights kind of gave that away." He added, looking at the icon seal. Mel blinked and glanced at the icon herself. She studied it in depth for a moment.

"Perhaps I should telephone Erode…" Falcon began. "See if he can give us any more information."

"No need." Mel started and everyone looked in her direction. "I recognise this icon."

"You know it, good madam?" Apollus asked. Mel nodded once.

"Two knights riding the same horse. That's the symbol of the Knights Templar, the order of the temple of Solomon." She laid the paper down one the table. "They were an order of knights founded in 1119 AD, to protect Christian pilgrims on their way to the holy lands. Wait… I have another book somewhere."

It didn't take her long to locate a dusty tome on the highest self by the door and return to the table with it. It was a thick book, about the general size of a bible with a featureless leather cover.

She handed it to Apollus. The butler adjusted his spectacles to get a better look, flipping through the old pages. He coughed to clear his throat.

"Indeed madam, founded in 1119 AD by Hugues de Payens, a veteran of the first crusade against the Muslim's in Jerusalem.

Let me flip through this a while…" The old man sat down and started to read, seemingly now oblivious to the rest of them.

"At any rate, to cut a long story short, over the centuries the Templar's became a powerful and wealthy Order. As more and more nobles joined their cause, their treasury grew to maddening heights. Heads of state, even kings, would come to them for loans and other financial transactions."

"So what happened to them?" Ayame asked.

"They were exterminated." Mel replied with a sad sigh. "Thousands were burned alive." Ayame gaped and held both hands to her mouth in horror.

"Why?" Kikanojo asked, seemingly also horrified.

"It's a bit hard to explain that one." Mel admitted. "From what I understand, the king of France at the time was Philip IV or Philip Le Bel.

He was in debt and needed money to bail himself out and to fund his war with England. He looked upon the Templar's with their huge power and influence with envious eyes and yearned to plunder their riches."

"So he ordered their destruction?" Ryoma asked. The samurai had gotten interested in the story as well. Mel shook her head.

"No. The Templar's were not answerable to any authority accept that of the Pope. Phlilp Le Bel could not order their destruction himself.

Fortunately for the king of France however, the Pope at the time was Clement V, a Frenchman. He was Philips pawn, pushed up the ranks in the Papal States to further the king's own political ambitions."

Falcon sighed with a flare of annoyance in his voice.

"I can see where this is going." He muttered to no one in particular.

"The Templar's were arrested by Philip's orders and charged with heresy." Mel told him.

"Heresy?" The Englishman repeated.

"Satanic worship, spitting on the cross, renouncing Jesus Christ; that kind of thing." She told him. "Looking back at it now, it's obvious the charges were trumped up.

The evidence for it is nothing but hearsay and slander put out by the King of France's own court. But to the impressionable people of Medieval Europe it was confirmation enough.

The Templar's including their Grand-Master, Jacques de Molay, were all turned over to the inquisition on Friday the Thirteenth, October 1307 AD. That's why people consider Friday the thirteenth being unlucky.

Forced confessions were beaten, whipped, branded and burned out of the poor souls. They were forced to admit they worshiped some fictional idol called Baphomet, which is likely to be something the Inquisitors made up.

Once it was all over, the Pope banned the Order and those who did not recant the Knights were burned alive at the stake for blasphemy."

Both Ayame and her brother turned pale.

"Rumors are abound of the Templar's still existing in some shape or form today." Mel told them. "Which is not unlikely, as a few of their number did escape to excommunicate Scotland."

"An interesting story." Gunrock stated, crossing his large arms in front of his barrel like chest. "But it still doesn't explain why Pride would leave some map with their symbol on for us. We don't even know what this map is of."

"It's a clue I'm certain of it." Falcon muttered, tapping his finger on the image of the two knights. "But I'll be damned if I know what it is."

Falcon appeared strained. He looked tired, both physically and emotionally. His fatigue was clear for everyone to see. No one could really blame him for it. They'd been trekking across the world; fighting battles with enemies abound and only just escaped death at the clutches of a demon.

And now his father was missing and their only clue was this piece of paper, a reference to an order stamped out of existence over six hundred years ago.

"Edward, why don't you get some rest?" Julia stated.

"Rest?" Falcon repeated. "With my father in the clutches of a mad man? How am I supposed to get any sleep with that in the back of my head?"

It was a fair question.

It began to rain outside, the hard patter of water striking the cobblestones resonating throughout the streets. A bolt of lightning crackled overhead and the sky turned dark as a storm, rolling up the river, began to settle for what appeared to be a while.

Whatever customers Mel had decided to head back to their homes before it got any worse and as soon as they were gone, Ayame flipped the sign in the window around to 'closed'.

As she did, she was watched. She could not see this observer, nor know that he was even there but this watcher observed her closely. A single, blood shot, eye staring out of the darkness.

She had returned to this place, just as expected. It had been a long wait but of course, Jack had infinite patience when it came to something like this.

Just one more look, just one more… he kept telling himself over and over in the chaotic confines of his mind. He needed to see his mother's stone, hold it, touch it, caresses it one final time.

He had to know where his mother was and his only clue to her was that rock.

In truth, Jack was confused and frightened. His world had been that stone. It had been his mother, her phantom keeping him company in his loneliness, his own remaining link to what had been normal life for him.

Now Ayame had broken that link, showing him that the stone was not his mother. But Jack could not let go of it that easily. It had been the only thing to keep him going, to find that stone and claim it as his own. It had been his own reason for existing for so long.

He had waited a long time and was not upon to spurn the opportunity now. Leaping forward, he crashed through the window, blades drawn. In a shower of glass, he caught them all by surprise. Two of them, the first a blonde man in a red suit and another in a blue rode were easily felled by several rapid kicks to the head. Another, a large re skinned man with a feather in the back of his hair, was knocked over by lifting a chair and throwing it against him.

With them out of the way, Jack was free to advance forward; knife in hand, toward the unprotected girl.

"Want Stone!" He snarled. "Want STONE NOW!!!" The Japanese girl staggered back in horror and someone darted in the way, putting a barrier between Jack and his prey. Snarling, Jack looked up to face them.

He had been ready to drive his blade directly into that barrier but stopped dead at the sight. It was a woman, with bright emerald green eyes and short red hair. Her face, her likeness was already burned like a brand into his mind.

His daggers fell from his shaking hands and he dropped down to his knees, his single red eye open in stunned awe.

"Ma…." He began towards the woman. "Momma…."

The woman paused, her own green eyes wide and mouth agape.

In the next instant, a sword blade came hurtling around, nearly slicing Jack's head clean off. If Jack hadn't ducked, doing an intensive acrobatic crouch he would have taken the swing. Retaliating with a twisting kick against the samurai that had come at him, Jack made a break for the exit; bursting out into the street and before anyone could stop him; vanished in amidst a flash of lightning; a single lingering cry echoing after him…

"MOMMA!!!"