Japan – March 6, 2004, 10:30 (March 6, 1:30AM +9:00)

Ermengardis Headquarter, Bishamonten Pavilion, Room 419

A sunbeam cherished the cheek of Camus, forcing him to open the eyes. He slipped a glance through the pane: a beautiful sun radiated outside, making shine the sheets of the cherry trees, which budded already. He sighed, remembering his night: once more, he had hopelessly called sleep, until the early morning. He had even left his bed-room a short moment and been to the corridors, with the hope that this exercise would enable him to find sleep. He had seen the silhouette of Shura, wandering　like him. Poor Shura! It looked worst for him than even for himself! Camus wondered besides if it had a relationship with their return to life or the adventure at Onimura. He had also tried to speak with Angelo, but the Italian was not really talkative since his arrival at the headquarter. He passed most his time locked up in his room, and only Aphrodite could manage to communicate with him, although he was often rebuffed. Camus rose and was going to move towards the shower, when he saw a paper slipped below his door. He collected the envelope, of a respectable size, and unsealed it, drawing a file, on the cover of which was written: "Philippe de Grandfort". His heart started to beat wildly just by reading this name. He opened the file feverishly: on the first page, a post-it was hung, that he tore away, without paying attention to it. Under the blow of emotion, he saw the text shady first, , then he finally managed to decipher:

“Philippe de Grandfort. Born on June 11, 1944, in Saint Alban de Montbel, Savoy. Married. One child, born-out of wedlock, on February 7,1967, of Caroline Pascault, and legally recognized in October 1973.”

Camus felt like a pain blowing in his chest. " A child out of wedlock ". It was of him it was question about... ‘My father legally recognized me?!’ he thought, a little bewildered.

“Status: first contacts as applicant in 1973, then in 1985. Active member since 1988, several collaborations with squadron # 102, based in Paris (leader since January 1995: Shina Montalbetti). Master of the escadron103, based in Lyon, since January 1993.... Request D008930: Search for his son, Anton de Grandfort, disappeared on December 25, 1972, at the age of 5. The body of the mother was found under a porch, without life, but never the child. Research still in progress.”

Camus felt that tears were going up to his eyes : was it possible that his father continues to look for him him, after all these years?

“D09876 Request: Inquiry regarding the murder attempt against Lady Mathilde de Grandfort, on January 3, 1985”.

The heart of Camus fluttered again. “Attempted murder?”… Would it mean that his mother-in-law had survived to her aggression?!

“The body of Mrs. de Grandfort was found cold in the garden of the De Grandfort property. This one was revived on time and recovered 3/4 of her mobility after one year of rehabilitation. She made a request for investigation to the Order of Ermengardis in February 1986. This request was withdrawn by her husband in March 1986. File classified without continuation in January 1987”.

Camus carried a hand to his mouth, retaining a cry: how could it be that Mathilde has survived? He felt like a weight was released from his shoulders, and from his heart. Could it be that he had failed in this odious attempt? This act of revenge his conscience had never accepted? This act for which remorse had removed the little of joy he had in his life, seventeen years ago? Could he not be considered as a murderer anymore? And could he have the hope that his father...?

Tears rolled of his eyes, burning his cheeks. Through this beater water, he finally noticed the post-it that he had screwed up between his fingers. Repressing a sob, he opened it, and read: "Courage. I will be always there to help you. Ambre."

Tokyo, Minato District, Roppongi area

Shina, Ambre and Thetis agreed on a short and quiet lunch at the Sun Set Coffee Shop of Roppongi Hills, while discussing their battle plan for the evening.

"We will go each on a different club, to multiply our chances to catch him. We slip into the crowd, and we show of... It’s necessary that the vampire sees nothing else but us. "

"For Ambre, it’s easy, she has red hair!"

"Thetis, don’t worry ! You, with your mop of blond hair, you’ll be noticed from three kilometers away…"

"Stop talking to me like that! You, your hair are so red that it looks like a wig!"

Ambre proudly passed her hands in her fire colored mane.

"Not my fault... In the lineage of Hademar, we all have russet-red hair! For centuries! It’s the distinctive sign of our family"

Shina clapped her hands.

"Oh, girls! I am serious! We have to prepare our plan to stop these slaughters as quick as possible."

Ambre and Thetis looked at her, then raised a hand and outlined the "V" of victory.

"Always ready!"

Shina sighed and carried a hand to her face, as if this scene had caused a sudden headache. Would Ambre have been of bad influence on Thetis? Already?

Ermengardis Headquarter, Bishamonten Pavilion, Room 418

Angelo had waken up hardly half an hour ago, and already, he was "ready", and inhabited of a “good-mood”, as sudden as unexpected, which he hadn’t felt since his arrival at the headquarter. He had a quick shower, then had put one of these black trousers and colored shirts the wardrobe of Lorenzo was full with. Then he had taken care of his hairstyle, his "signature, his distinctive sign".

Now sat down on his bed, his glance was lost in the vacuum. Why this haste? He had to go nowhere in special. No place would put him safe neither from his doubts, nor from his remorse. From all the interrogations left without answer, of which one more than the others almost killed him: was Maria still alive? Without thinking so much to what he was doing, he extended the hand towards the phone, and picked up the handset. His glance slipped on the alarm clock, set on the night table: it was to be 6 :30 in the morning in Italy. Angelo dialed the phone number feverishly: he knew it by heart, having dialed it many and many time, before hanging up, abandoned by courage. He heard three ringing before a familiar voice answered.

"Pronto?"

"Tognazzi? It’s Angelo..." he whispered.

"Figlio mio! I was looking forward to your phone call! Why have you waited a so long time to call me! "

Angelo pushed almost a sigh of relief just by hearing these magic words:"figlio mio".

"I am sorry, but I had just some jetlag…But I’m doing fine, now" he apologized.

“Well, if you feel Ok, the rest doesn’t matter so much… Do you feel better ? And your migraines? "

"That’s better. Much better. I don’t have anymore than one every two days."

“Good! Do you eat normally?"

Angelo raised the eyes heavenwards: ‘that was a bit too much! Tognazzi was not acting as a father, but as a mother. Well, actually, as a motherly mum!’

"I’m fine! I’ve already told you!! "

"Yes, I know… I hear that you still have your bad character... So, what can I do for you?”

"I would like to find a person, who’s coming from Palermo..."

"Somebody of your family?”

Angelo swallowed his saliva with difficulty. What should he answer?

"No, just a friend... Her name is Maria Baldassare. She must be in her 42-43 years now, I think."

Baldassare... Angelo sought in his memory when he had pronounced this name for the last time.

"Angelo! You hear me? Angelo!"

"Eh, yes!"

"Is it okay?”

" Yes."

“I will make some investigations, figlio mio. And I’ll phone you as soon as I have information."

"Thank you!"

"My pleasure! And I hope that you will quickly come back here and visit us! You know, all my little family hope to see you again... Especially my elder daughter."

Angelo reddened at the remembering of his two visits to the Tognazzi family: the elder girl, Celesta, had not hidden so much that he was her type, providing him with a great many smiles, winks, and other delicate attentions.

"Me too, Alessandro... "

“What time is it in Japan?"

"1:30 in the afternoon."

"Already the afternoon? I guess you’ve done already a bunch of things!"

"Yes! I ran in the park, and then I went to lunch with my friends..."

He was telling lies. But it was better to lie, rather than to worry Tognazzi by confessing that he was at the edge of depression. And especially, that almost everyone hated him and avoided him... 10,000 km away, nothing worse than the feeling of helplessness.

"I’m so glad that everything goes so well for you!”

"Thank you!"

"I won’t bother you too long! Ciao, figlio mio!”

"Ciao!"

‘Ciao ... Padre mio!’ thought Angelo. He hung up, reproaching himself he couldn’t pronounce these words. However, he felt released, almost happy... Angelo turned his glance in the direction of the window: the sun was shining outside and seemed to call him. He raised his bust, and went back in sitting position. He thought that he could perhaps call Camus, Aphrodite and Shura, and organize one of these micro-activities which would get them busy during this shiny day...

“Yes! It is the best thing I can do ! It’s time to leave this room, and enjoy a bit my new life!"

He rose, and, determined, left in the corridor.

Tokyo, Minato District, Roppongi area

Thetis rose, and went to the immense picture window to admire the unspoilable view on Tokyo, leaving Shina and Ambre alone.

"What do you know about Camus, Shura, Aphrodite and Angelo?" asked Ambre.

"Almost nothing... answered Shina, finishing her green tea milk shake. Why?"

"For nothing…"

"For nothing? I know you too much to know very well you never ask a question without having something at the back of your mind..."

Ambre sighed: Shina was right. They have been working together for more than ten years, and it was useless to try to hide the bottom of her thought to her: Shina knew her too well.

"You told me that Camus and his best friend Milo were the masters of breaking hearts of the apprentices and of the female knights... I guess you know something about them..."

"That’s right... But there was not only them... The other gold saints did all the same thing... They were men after all... When they need it, they were used to ask to have a girl brought to them, an apprentice or a maidservant for the night."

"I can’t believe it! And it happened on hearth, in the Eighties? Not in antiquity, or in a sect、or in parallel dimension? "

Shina remained quiet. Ambre understood that she was upsetting her.

"Okay, I am sorry, Shina, I didn’t mean to hurt you... How do you know the story you told me yesterday? On Camus and his good friend Milo? "

"One of the girls of my camp was brought to Camus, one evening..." began Shina.

Ambre retained her breathing before daring to ask:

"And then?"

"The girl refused to yield to this habit, considering it was degrading. Fortunately for her, Camus understood. Neither did he insist, nor undertook reprisals against her."

Ambre pushed a sigh of relief:

“You’re not lying to me?" she insisted.

"No... No! You know me, how can you ask me that?" exclaimed Shina, indignantly.  

"I'm sorry! ... And Shura? "

"I don’t know so much things about him. Except that he was a man rather wild and proud of him."

"And he also "fished in the pond" of the apprentices?”

"Yes.”

"And he was also behaving like a gentleman?"

"I don’t know anything of it... But no girl complained... "

"I see... And Aphrodite?"

"People said that he preferred young men..."

"Good for you ! And Angelo?"

"You mean Death Mask?" asked Shina, almost surprised by this name.

"Yes!"

"He has never claimed any girl. But... "

Shina obviously hesitated to carry on her explanations.

"But?" insisted Ambre.

"But... Rumors spread that he preferred dead women... "

Ambre made a grimace of disgust.

"Sanctuary of Athena, Ground of hope! Besides that, what do you know about their childhood?"

"I’ve got no idea... "

"You sure?" insisted Ambre.

Shina looked at her team mate, almost running out of patience in front of all her questions... She didn’t like to discuss with Ambre about the Sanctuary, because she seemed to scorn deeply its rules of life, finding them old-fashioned, and even degrading. Shina was not far from thinking like her, but the Sanctuary had been her country of adoption, and she put a point of honor in defending it...

"Listen... One of the precepts that I’ve learned at the Sanctuary is that sometimes, it’s necessary to make a clean sweep of the past... And it seems to me that it also prevails at Ermengardis."

Park of the Headquarter of Ermengardis...

Angelo sighed and sat in the grass. He drew a puff from his cigarette, pensive. Finally, nobody had wanted to come with him. Camus was not in a very good mood. Shura had not answered - undoubtedly he was still sleeping. And Aphrodite had also declined, asserting that the sun was very bad for his scar. Angelo had not dared to ask to anybody else. Apart from Camus, Shura and Aphrodite, none of his pars seemed really to appreciate him. But he could not completely give them wrong : he had been such a monster in the past. Angelo closed the eyes, trying to drive out his sad thoughts, and let the sunbeams caressing his face and warming his body.

He started, hearing a wood cracking, and looked around him : his glance went almost instantaneously on one of the pines of the garden, cut in a perfect round. He finally made out a little girl who looked at him with a sad expression.

"What are you doing here, you’re lost?" he asked.

The little girl didn’t answer.

"Don’t be afraid. What are you doing here?" he insisted.

"I am looking for my daddy!" answered the little girl. Her voice had a little strange crystalline tone.

"Do you know where he is?" asked Angelo.

The little girl stepped back and shook the head.

"No... Mister! There is somebody who’s coming!" said the little girl while moving aside.

"What!?"

Angelo turned around and saw Canon walking on his direction, a smile on the lips.

"Angelo! You smoke? It’s not good for health..." he called joyfully.

Angelo wrinkled the eyebrows. ‘Kill-joy! Was it his business?’

"I know… I am shortening my life expectancy, once again..." he answered mockingly. “What are you doing here ?”

"I am having a walk. And you, Angelo?"

"As you see, I am in great conversation with this little girl!"

Angelo turned around, pointing at the pine, but the little girl had disappeared, to his great surprise. Canon made a constrained smile.

"Eh... Angelo... Do you want to join to us? Saga and I are trying to work out…"

"For what?"

"Nobody knows to which danger will have us to face to, now that we have joined Ermengardis..."

Angelo looked at him, throwing a bored glance.

“I see! Where did I have the mind? You’re training to fight…"

Angelo was dragging his feet behind Canon. The second-born of the Geminis threw a glance over his shoulder: the former knight of Cancer looked quite mindly disturbed. Actually, he had never found him completely sound in mind, but not at the point of speaking with an imaginary child... As far as he remembered, Death Mask was used to talk with nobody - even with ghosts, he was pretty sure of that - and stay aside from everybody. Canon wondered whether Angelo were not suffering from schizophrenia, an illness which he knew quite well since Saga had suffered from it during thirteen years. And had made suffer all the Sanctuary by the same occasion.

They arrived finally on a tennis court. Saga was on the ground, doing push-ups.

"Tell me, you don’t stop any more!" threw Canon.

"That will be hard to catch up with seventeen years without exercise!"

"And you plan to catch up today!?"

Saga froze on his front armlevers and looked at his brother.

"And if you stopped boasting? And if you put yourself at it, instead of going away for a walk every five minutes? Eh !"

He suddenly noticed the presence of Angelo, who was throwing a dubitative glance to him.

"You came to work out, you too?"

"In a sense... It’s Canon who proposed me to come..."

"Ok! On track!"

Angelo sighed: really, he would have better staid on his bed! He started to take off his shirt, under the surprised glance of the two brothers.

"What are you doing, Angelo?" asked Saga.

Angelo suspended his gesture, while he was to remove his shirt

"What? It’s easy to understand : I am taking off my shirt not to soak in!"

The two brothers smiled to each other.

“You, you see too much Aphrodite!" slipped Canon, trying not to laugh.

Angelo affected to ignore the mocking smiles of the two Greeks, and laid on the ground, resting against the heels and the hands, the body right above the ground. He was going to start a series of push-ups when he made out the little girl, a hand clutching the netting of tennis. She made a sad smile to him.

Ermengardis Headquarter, Bishamonten Pavilion, Room 424

Shura woke up slowly. His head was painful : certainly, one of these migraines, caused by the ritual of resurrection, was starting again. Or, perhaps, this was a sign of Armando, showing that he was still there, somewhere in this body. Or maybe, quite simply, the lack of sleep... Shura rubbed his eyes, and sat down on the edge of his bed. The light coming to him from outside was sharp and obliged him to fold the eyes. He slipped a glance on the alarm clock set on the bedside: 2:00 PM. He sighed, thinking that, when he was a knight, he used to wake up with the rising sun and train himself until the sunset. He rose slowly and was going to move towards the bathroom when he noticed an envelope on the carpet, close to the door, certainly slipped under the door during his sleep by somebody. He leaned and collected it, drawing a hard-bound file, on the cover of which was hung a yellow post-it. "It seems to me that Adrian Candelas is more than a « remote friend ». If you want to speak about it, call me. Ambre." Shura swallowed with difficulty : Ambre had understood everything... He opened the file feverishly, and deciphered the text with difficulty, his glance being too much disturbed by the emotion.

“Adrian Candelas, born on March 19, 1939, in Lisbon, Portugal. Only son of Josepho Candelas, doctor, from Salamanca and Maria Alvario, from Lisbon”.

Shura felt like his breathing being cut. No doubt that it was about of his father: he had actually been born from a Spanish and Portuguese marriage.

“Grew up in Salamanca, where he lived until the age of 20. Left for his studies in medicine to Madrid in February 1957, then, just graduated, in October 1962, established in Ortega, a small village, 100 km north of Pampelune, Navarre. Wed Marry Alexandra Cavanillas, in March 1963. Birth of their son, Shura, on January 12, 1964”.

Shura believed that he was going drop the file : it was all the history of his family that was written, there, on this fine and white paper, in square and black letters, summarizing the tragic destiny of people, destroyed a so long time ago.

“D008101 Request: asked for investigation on the origins of the family of his wife, Alexandra Cavanillas. During the discussion with Giulio Hernandez, leader of Madrid Squadron, in May 14, 1968, Adrian Candelas declared that his wife was a witch, and that his son was possessed by a demon. The investigation was closed by Hernandez in February 1969, for lack of evidence proving the accusations of Candelas. ... I017693 incident: February 3, 1969, firemen of Ortega rescued Adrian Candelas from the fire of his house. The calcined body of his wife was found later in the debris. Adrian Candela stated he had been struck by an attacker, who had put fire to his house after killing his wife. The investigations carried by the police of Pampelune, then by Ermengardis, confirmed his statements”.

" Lies! Lies !" he repeated, his fingers contracted on the paper.

“D008146 Request: asked for investigation on his son, Shura, disappeared after the fire of the residence of Candelas. Research still in progress”.

Shura blinked eyes under the surprise : was it possible that his wretched father was still looking for him?  

“From 1970, involved completely himself in Ermengardis. Joined the squadron of Barcelona in March 1974. Became lieutenant of Hernandez in June 1976. At the death of Hernandez in 1978 (C00187373 file), replaced him at the head of the squadron of Barcelona. Appointed officially leader of the squadron in December 1979. Still in position.”

"No!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Shura howled. He threw the file against the wall, opposite to him, and stood there, breathless and almost dazed. Anger, as much as dislike, went up abruptly in him: not only his father had lied about the death of his mother, but he had also become one of the dignitaries of the Order of Ermengardis! This same Order to which Shura had just lent oath...

Ermengardis Headquarter, Bishamonten Pavilion, Room 426

Shaka raised the head from his computer, hearing a deaf noise coming from the wall of the room of Shura, his neighbor of the Room 424.

"What...?" he asked at high-voice, his heart beating widely. He even smiled to him, thinking that he was now worrying for nothing. He closed the eyes, trying to find the calm he used to be inhabited by. He, the man nearest to the Gods. He, the reincarnation of Buddha... But his eyes reopened almost in spite of him: in front of him, a splendid landscape taken close to Stanley, on the island of Hongkong, was posted on the screen. A split, luminous, was piercing through the clouds. A decoration worthy of "Tiger and Dragon", the film he had seen on the aircraft bound for Hong Kong.

"May 14, 1995...” read Shaka.

It was a picture taken by Calden, the man of which he lived from now on the carnal envelope. Shaka slipped a glance on the digital device: it was neither the only camera owned by the young English, nor the first one that Shaka saw. He had seen so many tourists with such devise hanged at their neck, on the banks of the Ganges, many years ago. But this one was special: it was the last one that Calden had handled... Shaka seized the camera and pushed the lever: the screen illuminated on a welcome message, and then the photograph appeared... The last one that Calden had recorded: behind the features of the head of Buddha, the face of a woman, beautiful and charming, appeared. Shaka shivered and felt pain invading him gradually. Contrary to Camus, Shura, Angelo or Aphrodite, he had never had to face his « ghost »: Calden. But every time he had looked to this picture, he had always felt a nagging pain, as if he lived again, at a less degree, the aggression of Calden, and the last moments of his life.

Shaka shook his head, dragging himself from his thoughts.

“Let’s delete this picture..." he murmured.

He tried to press the button and send this cursed picture in the digital oblivion, but didn’t manage to do it. Instead, he turned the button in manual mode, and targeting the window, tried to capture the sunbeams that delicately lit the sheets of his bed. Shaka came back in vision mode, avoiding looking at the dreadful picture of the Buddha’s head. He threw a glance to the result, and made the pout.

"What a vanity to claim to capture the solar star... Let’s take pictures of live subjects...?"

Ermengardis Headquarter, Bishamonten Pavilion, Room 420

Aphrodite beat eyelids, and threw a glance to his alarm clock.

"Oh no, already two in the afternoon! I can’t believe it!" he sighed. He sat down on his bed, trying to give some order to his hair. He felt a little hungry, and thought that it was time to leave his bed room and have lunch. He hadn’t eaten anything since the previous lunch. However he felt anguish seizing him: leaving this room meant showing his scared face to the others, and bearing their glances, constrained or sympathizing. Their pity.

Unable to face this torture, he rose and went straight to the bathroom. He carefully avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror above the wash-hand basin. He caught the small bottle that was on one of the rays: the doctor had prescribed this drug to calm pain, but also his anxiety crisis. But, Aphrodite had to acknowledge it; he had already absorbed the prescribed amounts earlier in the morning. But this bad feeling was too strong; without anymore hesitation, he opened the bottle, and swallowed two pills. Then he closed the cupboard and came back to his room. When he reached his bed, he felt that already the drug seemed to make effect. Aphrodite felt a soft languor seizing him, and he laid down, forgetting hunger that held him five minutes ago. He closed his eyes, and slipped again into this sleep that haven’t left him for days.

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