Greece, Great Sanctuary, March 5, 2004, 9:00 am (Mar. 5, 7:00 AM, GMT +2:00)

Palace of Elision...

Apollo bowed briefly in front of the throne where sat Persephone. The Goddess returned him his bow by a light inclination of the head, affecting the same indifferent and ice-cold expression she had always shown him.

“O, Apollo, my nephew, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“O, Persephone, my aunt, I came to take news of our "common business.”

“Our common business?”

“I would like to know if your two "guests" are not the cause of any troubles...”

“There aren't any problems to report.”

“You mean you have them totally under your control, don't you?”

“I have them totally under my power, my dear nephew. Do you have some complaints to make on their behavior?” asked Persephone, her voice loaded with impatience. But what was the point of her illustrious guest?

Apollo smiled:

“I have no complaint to make. Almost two months have passed since their mission and their arrival to the Sanctuary, and I just wanted to know how things have evolved.”

“Do you wish to see them?” proposed Persephone, convinced of the negative answer of her nephew, given his hatred for these night creatures.

“Yes, I would like to see them.”

Ishara laid on her back, on a silk sheet, spread at the feet of the statue of Amalric. She gazed at the face of her former lover, who had been frozen for eternity by Adalbert's curse.
Her throat tightened and tears ran on her cold cheeks, while this terrible feeling of despair submerged her again: she would never escape from the curse, this world of the unreal, in which she was falling over ceaselessly. This world where her only purpose was to find Amalric, who appeared to her furtively, before disappearing, such as a shadow on a wall, such as a dream. A world of which she was the prisoner, hopeless.

She squeezed in her hand the blue rose offered by Apollo, while her other hand cherished the ropes of the mandolin that a servant had brought earlier in the morning. She had requested this musical instrument to Persephone the day before, promising to distract her with her music. She played very well this instrument, and even Marius had once declared that a kind of magic was exhaling from her music.
She had acquired this gift in Venice, at the time of the highlight of the doges …

1348. Venice

Gàbor offered a hand to Ishara to help her to come down from the gondola, which rocked slightly against the pier. Ishara took it, lowering eyes, and with her free hand, raised slightly her long black dress not to get entangled in the veils. Her feet touched the ground gracefully, in a wavering of tulles. Ishara loosened slowly the hand of Gàbor.

“Is it here?” she asked, keeping her eyes lowered.

“Yes, mistress Ishara, it's here … Sylvenius is waiting for us.”

It took several minutes to cross the big black marble hall, then endless staircases and corridors in the almost non-existent lighting. They walked without crossing neither living-soul, nor night creature. The palace seemed abandoned by its occupants, although it was far from being ruined.

They arrived finally in front of a big door with chiseled gilts, representing war scenes between humans and devils, which opened in a creaking.

The room they came in was so immense, and so dark, that Ishara couldn't make neither the walls nor the ceiling. Gàbor guided her up to the center of the room, and stopped in front of a majestic wooden and bronze-decorated throne, half hidden under black sails, falling from a richly sculptured canopy. Not far from the throne, a gigantic bronze censer, connected to the invisible ceiling by heavy chains, swung in the dark. It diffused oriental flavors that Ishara believed to recognize: some incense, spices...

She distinguished a high silhouette sat on the throne, and moved back, assailed by a strange anxiety.

“A vampire! Sylvenius is a vampire!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, Mistress” agreed Gàbor, who didn't understand the sudden fear of Ishara.

“He is almost as powerful as Marius … It's impossible!” she murmured, bewildered by the aura that she felt coming from the throne.

“Welcome, Ishara, Princess of Babylon” said a deep voice.

“How do you know my name? Who are you? What do you want?” shouted Ishara, more and more terrified.

“I know your name by Gàbor, here present. And my intention is only to pay my respects to a princess of Babylon” answered the stranger.

Ishara moved a step back again.

“Why don't you show me your face, in that case?”

“I am not afraid of showing it to you, proud princess Ishara.”

The stranger got up, and walked in the weak light created by the bronze candelabrum. He was tall, the slenderness of his body underlined by his black clothes. His face was long, emaciated, marked with wrinkles at the corner of the mouth and the eyes. Dark and slightly graying hair felt on his shoulders.

“My name is Sylvenius, magician alchemist, and master of this place.”

“How long have you been a vampire? Do you know Marius?”

“I joined the reign of night creatures, in a time when Venice was not a republic, but a part of the Roman Empire. For Marius, yes, I know him. And I can tell you that it is thanks to him that you and I share the same blood.”

Ishara felt a little more at ease knowing that Sylvenius was a creation of Marius. She was however going to ask him why he was not in the ranks of Marius' army when he took out from the folds of his cape a curious round instrument, similar to a lute. He presented it to her.

“What is this?” asked Ishara, fascinated by this discovery.

“Una chitarra (1) … It's an instrument that comes from the Arabic civilization … It makes a very beautiful sound.”

Sylvenius left the quitaire1 in the hands of Ishara, who started instinctively pinching the strings.

“It looks like it was made for you, Princess of Babylon.”

Ishara let her fingers run along the strings, which vibrated in melodious arrangements. Gàbor looked at her, subjugated by the virtuosity of Ishara to create music.

“It's so beautiful!” he murmured, kneeling down to the feet of his mistress. Sylvenius approached Ishara, a smile on the lips.

“Yes, this is a beautiful melody … You are a magician, Princess Ishara. Look at Gàbor, he is totally under your charm. You could make whatever you want of him… said Sylvenius, plunging his grey glance into the eyes of Ishara. “This instrument will give you the power, Ishara. On everybody who shall listen to your music...”

A dull noise in the corridor brought Ishara back to reality. Somebody was coming, running in the corridor... Ishara got up and dried her tears. Her face had become almost serene when Glaucus came into the room.

“Mistress, Ishara, I am sorry to disturb your rest. We are summoned before Persephone.”

Japan, Headquarters of Ermengardis, March 5, 2004, 4:15 pm (Mar.5, 7:15 AM, GMT +9:00)

Pavilion Bishamonten, Main Lounge...

Camus pushed the door of the Main Lounge. Most of his former peers were already there, discussing in small groups. Angelo and Aphrodite had taken place near one of the immense picture windows, not far from the entrance. Shaka, Sion, Dohko, Mu and Aldebaran were in the center of the room. Saga and Canon were staying aside, as Milo and Aiolia. But both groups didn't even address a glance. Without hesitation, Camus walked in the direction of Angelo and Aphrodite, who were bickering at low voice.

“Ah, Camus! Happy that you've arrived … Can you tell Aphrodite to leave me alone!”exclaimed Angelo.

“What? Why do you want me to leave you alone! I just said that I found you very handsome in this black shirt, opened just as needed on your gold chain...” whispered Aphrodite.

“It was in Lorenzo's wardrobe! That's all! So please, go away and try to get somebody else!” sighed Angelo, buttoning up the missing button.

“ "to get somebody"? No! What are you thinking of ? I just wanted to compliment you” took offense Aphrodite.

“Yeah, my feet!” answered Angelo, suspicious.

Camus sketched a discreet smile: it was true that Angelo had metamorphosed since the time of the Sanctuary, when he was used to wear almost all the time his armor, and had frankly a terrible look.

“Okay, I am going to reserve my kindest comments for Camus... Look at this fresh face, and this look of charmer... Ah! I can't say such good things about me!” exclaimed Aphrodite.

The glance of Camus slid on Aphrodite's cheek, marked with a big scar. He wondered if the young Swedish had thrown this remark just for fun. Then he looked at Angelo, interrogating him silently about what it was necessary to say and to make. Angelo seemed also surprised by the remark and shrugged discreetly the shoulders.

“And here comes our beautiful hidalgo!” exclaimed Aphrodite, seeing Shura who had just arrived in the lounge.

He made a sign to him so that Shura joins them.

“Hello everybody!” said Shura, repressing a yawn. His hairs were slightly in battle, and he had clearly forgotten to shave. No doubt that he had just woken up.

“Less fresh than the French and the Italian, the beautiful hidalgo!” giggled Aphrodite .

“You're really a bit of flirt, the Swede! Stop it!” answered Shura, almost hurt to be called “beautiful hidalgo “by Aphrodite. He had suddenly remembered the rumors that used to spread about the sexual preferences of the Pisces saint.

“I am not a bit of flirt! Well, actually, not with you... You're men, people; you don't interest me at all!”
Shura and Angelo rolled round eyes, and burst out laughing. Camus couldn't resist a long time neither. The laughter of his companions was contagious, and more of all, the declaration of Aphrodite was irresistible.

“I can't believe you got such ideas about me! And in the situation we are!” protested Aphrodite.

Milo threw a disenchanted glance to the noisy group of Camus, Shura, Angelo and Aphrodite.

“It looks like they've got along with each other.”

“Yes, between bad seeds... ” grumbled Aiolia. He slid a glance on the two brothers who were standing aside and silent, not far from them. “They should join them, and the family of weeds will be complete!”

 

The door opened, letting Ambre come in. Camus was going to make her a sign, when she spoke.

“May I have your attention, sirs? The meeting is going to start now, so please come closer to the center of this room.”

Without a glance to Camus, Ambre went to the center of the group, followed soon by a woman with the hair colored in blond with greenish reflections, then by Marine, Thetis and Sorrente. Behind them, a young man and a woman, both blond-haired, walked gracefully.

Camus followed Angelo, Aphrodite and Shura, his eyes still riveted on the young couple.

“He is the Great Master of Ermengardis”, whispered Aphrodite, pointing discreetly at the young man.

Camus noticed that all, including his former peers, deviated respectfully to let the place to the young man and the young lady. They both sat down on the central sofa, whereas their majors stood behind them, in a respectful posture.
An almost religious silence reigned...

James cast a quick glance to the people around him.

“I declare the meeting opened. It won't take so long, because we all know the circumstances of your return, and there is no need to come back on this subject. And I am sure that the Squadron Masters, here presents, have already told you everything about Ermengardis. Therefore, the purpose of this meeting will be focused on one, and only one thing: your future.”

Some murmurs rose around him, but nothing really distinct. Saga and Canon looked at each other, wondering mutually what to do. Shaka slid a glance to Dohko and to Mu, who returned him the same perplexed glance.

“I leave you the choice between two solutions. The first possibility is that you join the ranks of Ermengardis. We need persons having your knowledge in the Sanctuary. The second solution leaves you the possibility to join the civil life. To continue a normal life, under the cover of your new identity. The Order would understand that after all what had happened to you, you prefer to return to a quieter and less dangerous life, and is ready to help you that way.”

Some more murmurs echoed to his words.

James put an eye on one of the ex-saints and concentrated on his thoughts. He knew that it was not very fair to use this power, but he had to be fixed on the intentions of each.

‘Normal life!? I have never lived a normal life!’ The soul of the young Italian whispered.
James turned his attention on his immediate neighbors.

‘I do not know what a normal life...is. I am incapable to live a normal life!’ complained the soul of the young man with red hair.

‘I always lived in the tumult, and I will continue!’ thought the young Spaniard beside him.

‘What am I going to do in the normal life, with this scar? No idea!’ the Scandinavian sighed.
James put his glance on the two Greek brothers, which were not far from there.

‘A normal life, A quiet and serene life which I could live finally with my brother... It is only a dream!’ The elder brother dreamed.

‘I could finally live with my brother, calmly... But serenity had never been a part of our life. We need danger to exist!’ thought of the second.
James continued the souls’ inspection, penetrating into the thoughts of the giant who was standing in front of him.

‘Let me find the monsters who turned us like this, and...’ his soul was shouting.

James hesitated to continue when his glance crossed the eyes of the young British, which seemed to contain all the wisdom of the world. Shaka... The man who used to be Buddha's reincarnation. Although he had lost all his powers, he still gave a strange impression of serenity. Overcoming his hesitance, James penetrated finally his mind.

‘My life does not belong to me. Even if I am not any more a gold saint, even if I have no more power, my duty is to fight for justice!’
James couldn't repress a smile: he didn't expect less from him. Without anymore hesitations, he allowed himself to slide in the mind of the three men who were standing next to Shaka.

‘I've always served justice. I will continue!’ thought firmly the Chinese.

‘What other choice have I that to join Ermengardis? None... My life is dedicated to the fight for justice!’ the wide-eyed Tibetan repeated.

‘Peace, Serenity... I do not know what it is... I need danger to live!’ roared the soul of the Greek with the long blond hair. Beside him, his young fellow countryman shared the same thoughts.

James put back his attention to the oldest Tibetan, who had staid aside from the beginning of the meeting, and who was looking at him intensely since he had entered the room.

He penetrated his mind without apprehension.

‘May, 1742.

Sion was coming back from a visit to the nearby village. He was walking slowly on the stone-paved road leading to the Sanctuary.  His glance was lost on the night-landscape of the Greek countryside, and his thoughts steered towards the war preparations against Hades. The next holy war was imminent, spreading its alarming shadow over all the Sanctuary of Athena. Suddenly, shouts pulled him out of his dark thoughts: it was those of a child, coming from the undergrowth, by the roadside. Without hesitation, Sion dashed in the vegetable darkness, fighting with branches and foliages which blocked him the road. The shouts became more and more piercing, more and more terrified. And more and more terrifying.

Pushing aside the foliages of a willow, Sion found finally the origin of the shouts...

A little girl was roaring, knelt down near the corpse of her mother, she was shaking to awake. The woman was pale, and her neck was marked by a big bite, from which was running down the last drops of blood remaining in her body. A man and a woman, dressed with rich travel clothes, were standing by their side. The man had the face and even his blond hair stained with blood, and was kissing with ostentation his partner, covering her face and her bodice of blood.

They stopped their animal kiss and turned around the girl.

“Her turn!” murmured the young lady.

Her face transformed into a horrible bloated mask with striking teeth. She abandoned the arms of her companion, and walked straight to the girl. She seized her roughly and forced her to get up. The girl roared even more with terror.

“That's enough, leave her!” shouted Sion, unveiling his presence to the two monsters.

The female monster froze, letting escape the girl who ran away in the wood. The man immediately tried to dash to her pursuit.

“Stay there!” roared Sion, blowing up his cosmos.

The man turned around to Sion, and threw him a sarcastic glance.

“You are one of the saints of Athena, aren't you?” he asked.

“Yes, I am Sion of Aries. Who are you?” answered Sion. “Would you be too coward to give me your name?”

“Coward?” The jaw of the man shook, while his blue eyes threw flashes of lighting in the direction of Sion. “Coward...? Beware to what you say! The Knight James Gladestone does not know neither cowardice nor fear!” he answered, furious.

“Knight? I did not know that this title applies to monsters who murder women and children!”
Sion knew that his insult had hit the vampire: in front of him, James Gladestone was boiling with fury and was ready to jump on him. His accomplice, whose face had had returned to her sweet features, slid a hand in his arm.

“Come, you have no chance against him. Let's catch the girl!” she murmured with a sweet, but firm voice.

Sion grimaced: it was exactly what he wanted to avoid! He had to leave enough time to the girl to run away.

James Gladestone moved back, ready to follow his partner.

“Will you flee, knight Gladestone... Show me that you deserve your title!” shouted Sion, challenging him.

He continued to make burn his cosmos of all its intensity, which pushed James Gladestone to turn around once again in his direction. His face had transformed, taking the same bestial face as his partner some minutes before.

“I am going to make you swallow these words, sheep!” he roared.

His partner caught his hand and pulled him back with all her might.

“James, please, don't do that!”

Gladestone looked at her, then let his face resumed his quiet appearance. He moved back, then ran away in a flash of lighting in the wood, following his partner.

“Stay here, cowards!” roared Sion.

He ran to their pursuit, but both creatures were out of sight. They had skipped without difficulties between branches and foliages, like the night shadows they were.

Sion turned several hours in the undergrowth, in search of the little girl and the two creatures. At the sunrise, he finally found the body of the girl, two bites printed in the neck. He collapsed next to the small body, drunk with anger against his helplessness.’

“James! Great Master of Ermengardis! Are you feeling okay?”

James extricated himself from the thoughts of Sion. His head was spinning.

“James! Is Everything Okay!?” asked again Eleny.

James looked at her with surprise, and then noticed that everybody was looking at him, slightly surprised by his blank. How long had he stayed there, diving in the memories of Sion?

“What was I talking about?” he asked, obviously lost.

“The possible mission of these men for Ermengardis, Great Master!” answered the woman with blond and green hair.

“Yes... And it is directly connected with your return. To bring you back to life, the Great Sanctuary of Olympia didn't hesitate to awake two extremely powerful vampires, two of those we call “the Great Ancients ". Everything allows us to believe that their awakening is the fact of another vampire, almost as old as the two other vampires. A vampire who has the keys opening the coffins of the island.”

“What are exactly the risks if the other "Great Ancients" are also awoken?” asked Dohko.

“To see Marius reconstituting his army of vampires and wreaking havoc around him. Marius likes domination, and takes pleasure in destruction and death.”

The silence felt again. Thirteen glances were wondering to each other, in search in the eyes of his neighbors an answer to the terrible question: what am I going to decide?

“When do we have to give you an answer?” asked Saga.

“The sooner the better!” answered James.

“You mean... Now?”

“For example.”

Saga sighed and walked forward.

“Then allow me, Saga, to join the order of Ermengardis, and to put my strength at its service”, he declared with emotion.

“It's an honor Saga” said James, nodding the head.

Canon put a hand on the shoulder of Saga, then walked forward.

“Allow me, Great Master, to follow the example of my brother. I am Canon, formerly called Canon of Gemini.”

“It's a pleasure, Canon.”

A murmur crossed the assistance at the right of James: the black-haired man with blue eyes walked forward.

“I was formerly known under the frightening name of Death Mask, the Cancer Saint. Now, I wish to serve Ermengardis under the name of Angelo, and to buy back my past faults.”

“Welcome to Ermengardis, Angelo.”

The blond young man who was standing near Angelo walked forward too.

“Of my years of glory and vanity, I have kept only my name, Aphrodite. I wish to join the Order and to serve it too.”

“Welcome to Ermengardis, Aphrodite.”

“Great Master, allow Shura, the former Capricorn Saint, to join your ranks!” exclaimed the young Spanish, who walked forward to find himself in the same line as his two companions.

Following him, the red-haired man moved in the line in his turn.

“Great Master, I was formerly called the magician of water and ice. My powers have flown away, and I wish to be known now by the name of Camus, and to serve the order of Ermengardis.”

“Camus and Shura, I am glad that you have taken this decision.”

Camus tilted the head in sign of thanking. He threw a glance to Ambre, who answered him by a smile, then to the blond young man, who was standing not far from the two Tibetans.

James also threw a glance on him, and saw that he had walked forward.

“Great Master, Milo, the former Scorpio Saint, is ready to serve the Order of Ermengardis as faithfully as he had served Athena in the past!” declared Milo. He couldn't refrain throwing a glance to Camus, who shook the head in approbation and sketched a smile. Milo pretended to look somewhere else.

“Thank you, Milo.”

The young man next to Milo walked a step forward.

“Great Master, I, Aiolia, the former Lion Saint, I am ready to put the few strength staying in me at the service of the Order of Ermengardis.”

“Welcome to Ermengardis, Aiolia.”

“Great Master!” called Dohko, “I, but also Shaka, Aldebaran and Mu, are ready to take oath of fidelity to Ermengardis, and to serve the Order, like we had formerly served the Goddess Athena.”

“I thank you all of you for this decision.”

Only Sion had remained dumb. All the glances set on him, encouraging him to join the new ranks. He finally walked forward.

“Knight James Gladstone...” he began to say.

James frowned, listening to this name. Eleny cast him a surprised glance.

“I am ready to take oath to Ermengardis. It's not that I believe your words, or even trust you. But I think that my duty is to serve justice. And I hope that Ermengardis represents Justice”.

Murmurs rose among the former peers of Sion, surprised by the tone of challenge with which he had expressed himself.

“I am glad that you had finally taken this decision” answered James, without any comments on his unfriendly behavior. Casting a glance on all the new members of Ermengardis, he added: “I am happy that you all decided to put your trust in the Order. I shall set your mission tomorrow, with your leader”.

Rumors rose again.

“Our leader?” asked Canon.

“Yes, I would like you to elect a leader, to be my interlocutor in the future. You are too many so that we organize effective meetings” explained James.

“Yes, of course, a leader...” repeated Dohko.

“I declare this meeting over... Please give me the result of the elections before one o'clock!” announced James.

He greeted briefly the assistance, and then giving the arm to Eleny, went to the door of the room.

Aiolia skipped towards Marine.

“Who is she?” he asked, indicating the woman with blond and green hairs, who was talking with Ambre.

“You don't recognize her? It's Shina!” exclaimed Marine.

“Well, you know, without her mask...”

“You want to see her?”

Marine took Aiolia by the arm and pulled him in the direction of Shina and Ambre. Aiolia didn't protest but stopped when he saw that Camus was heading forthe two women.

“No, it's OK, I will catch up with her later...”

Camus approached Ambre, trying to make his best charming smile. The illusion which he had "suffered from" at Onimura was still fresh in his memory, and he felt blushing as he approached the beautiful red-haired woman. A new characteristic inherited from Gabriel...

“Ambre, take care, Camus is not as angelic as he looks like!” warned Shina, pinching the arm of Ambre.
Ambre looked at her with surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I was in the sanctuary at the same time as them, Ambre. I can tell you that Camus and his best friend, Milo, were not hesitating too much when it was question to seduce the young apprentices... Mask or not, nothing could stop them!”

Ambre had a derisive smile:

“You're kidding! Camus is the perfect example of the guy who is still virgin because he doesn't' dare to speak to women.”

Shina smiled:

“I tell you once again: he's quite different from what he looks like. Okay! I let you speak with him, but try not to be too long and join us at James'office.”

Shina had just gone away that Camus stood in front of Ambre, a smile flickering around his lips, and his cheekbones slightly red. The blue sapphire color of his eyes stood out only better.

“Ambre?”

“Yes, Camus?”

At this precise time, Ambre was hesitating between two choices: snuggling up between his arms, or sending him a slap, just in case that what has said Shina was true. She pulled herself together:

“Yes, Camus...”

“I would like to find a friend... His name is Philippe de Grandfort. He used to live in France, near Lyon, between 1967 and 1986. He had a son, Anton... I would like to know what had happened to them.”

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends...”

Ambre looked pensive.

“It's strange; I have the feeling that I've already heard this name somewhere...”

“Really?” asked Camus.

“I don't know, but I'll try to find something about them.... Sorry, but I have to go now...”

“Okay, no problem. We'll catch up together later... ” sighed Camus.

But Ambre hesitated to leave: a question was burning her lips.

“Can I ask you something, Camus? Do you know Shina?” she finally asked.

“No... Why?” answered the young French.

Ambre examined his glance: Camus seemed sincere.

“No, nothing.... Just forget what I've said” she apologized, leaving the lounge.

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