CHAPTER SEVEN: Enlistment.

"Tell me, boy. Are there Heroes in this age of the world?"

Raphael shuddered slightly at the icy voice of Jack, somewhat beginning to regret his decision to side with him. "Heroes? I'm not familiar with the term. But if ye mean folks strong wi' the blade or bow, aye. There be folk like that."

The pair fell into silence again as they walked along the path towards Bloodstone, Jack's evil mind working double time.

"Wait a mo'…" Raphael muttered, thinking on the word 'Hero'. "Aye, I be hearin' that term before, from a fellow who lives atop the hill in Bloodstone. The way he tells it, he's a survivor from the old days." The pirate shook his head, a wry smirk touching his lips. "But that's bollocks. Reaver only looks a few year older than me self."

"This Reaver… Has he ever mentioned the Guild?" Jack asked, his intrigue growing.

"Guild? Nay, not a guild. But he calls himself the Hero of Skill, whatever that may be." Where was Jack going with this? Did he truly believe that Reaver was a Hero from the old times?

"Hmm… The Hero of Skill… Could he be the one who slew Lord Lucian? Surely he died when the Shadow Court was destroyed… Unless of course… Yes, that must be it." The demon seemed to be thinking aloud, and Raphael didn't want to interrupt him in his musings.

"Yes, I will go see him. And if he is indeed the Hero of Skill, the Reaver of the old stories, he will be a very valuable ally."

Something wasn't sitting right with Raphael. Working up the courage, he asked, "Forgive me, cully. But how can ye be knowing about Reaver if ye spent the last 3,000 years in a chest?"

Jack turned his dead eyes on Raphael, chucking his cold laughter. "Jack always knows, boy. Jack always knows. Now, run along to Bloodstone, and find me a group of the best fighters in town. I have a meeting with the Hero of Skill to attend to."

The Demon was suddenly bathed in a red glow, and with another cackling laugh, he disappeared from the cliff side path. Raphael felt a chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with the icy wind, and set off down the path towards Bloodstone.

Reaver, meanwhile, was enjoying a glass of brandy by the fire in his stately manor atop the hill in Bloodstone. He wasn't as rich, nor as famous as he'd been in the days of Reaver Industries, but he was still rather well to do. And the bandits and thieves of Bloodstone new not to trifle with him, even if they didn't believe his stories.

A knock at the door brought Reaver out of his musings about the old days, and after quickly checking his appearance in a small hand mirror, he strode to the door and pulled it open. "Hello hello!" he said pompously, leaning in the doorway, his ruffled white shirt unbuttoned down to the chest and his most charming smile fixed to his features. "What can Reaver do for-huh?"

He blinked a few times, looking out into the courtyard. The empty courtyard. "Hello?" he called, taking a few steps out along the cobbled path, keeping a hand on the door. "Hmm." He said with a shrug, and walked back inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Such a charming home, Hero." Came a cold voice from all around him, and Jack of Blades stepped out of the shadows, cackling as usual.

In the blink of an eye, Reaver had drawn both of his Dragonstomper pistols and pointed them at Jack's heart (or where a heart would be). His voice was calm and quiet, his face passive. "Rather rude, entering someone's home without permission." He said softly, thumbing back the hammers. "Horrible manners indeed. I should blow you away."

"You could try." Jack tittered lightly, his red eyes boring into Reaver's dark brown ones. "You'd fail, but you could try. Go on, pull the trigger."

Reaver raised his eyebrows, gripping his pistols tightly. 'What are you afraid of? This mask wearing freak? Come now Reaver, you've taken down more impressive than him.' He thought to himself.

"Oh but that's where you're wrong." Jack said lightly. "You've never faced anything as deadly as this… what was it… Mask wearing freak?" He paused for a moment, then let out a cold, high cackle at Reaver's shocked face. "Why don't you put those admirable little weapons away and take a seat. There's much I'd like to speak with you about."

Reaver held his pistols for a moment longer, then slipped them back into their holsters with a flurry. "You have some nerve, offering me a seat in my own home." He muttered, but took the seat indicated nonetheless. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jack, Jack of Blades." The demon's eyes flickered wickedly. "And you are Reaver, the Hero of Skill, slayer of Lord Lucian. We seem to know of one another, don't we?"

"Y-yes." For the first time since… Well, he couldn't remember the last time his composure had been shaken so much. He wondered how Jack had managed to return from death, but in truth, it didn't really matter. The devil was in his home. "And what would one such as yourself ask of me? For you surely didn't come here to admire my rather gorgeous manor."

"Straight to the point, I see." Jack said with a slow nod. "I'll be blunt, then. I'm in need of warriors, Reaver. I have a plan, for Albion to fall at my feet. And as incredibly powerful as I am, I cannot do it alone. I'll need soldiers, and Heroes like yourself to lead those soldiers."

"Mhmm…" Reaver sounded almost bored. "And what would I get out of an allegiance with you, pray tell?"

"Anything you desire. Your old fame and fortune back, all the gold you could spend, all the women and men you could ever lust for." Jack leaned towards him, and even though his face was hidden, Reaver knew that the devil was smiling. "All of it could be yours again."

"Intriguing." The Hero muttered, stroking his chin with his delicate fingers. "And what guarantee do I have that you'll come through, if I agree to help?"

Jack pondered this question for a few moments, and when he spoke, his voice was full of that icy cold calculation once again. "Think of it this way; You can take me at my word and stand at my side. Or, you can oppose me, and burn with the rest of this wretched world."

Reaver needed no more convincing. "Very well, you shall have my assistance when the time comes."

Jack cackled evilly, gripping Reaver's shoulder in a cold, vice-like grip in one of his gauntleted hands. "The time has already arrived, Hero of Skill."