Fan Fiction ❯ The Duel ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*Standard Fanfiction disclaimers apply. I do not own any of the Soul Calibur characters.

The Duel

Prologue

16th Century London, England
The Valentine Mansion

One of the things Lady Isabella had to admit to herself is that she missed the scores of faceless, nameless servants that used to frantically populate the enormous mansion she inhabited now almost in total seclusion, with only the indispensable and most loyal at her side. Observing the large, dusty looking library that used to be her father's, she realized how their absence was felt in every single detail of what remained as the last vestiges of the once opulent Valentine Mansion. The place really needed a platoon of able hands to make it look at least decent enough to feel like it was still home to her and not a impoverished monument to madness and lost dreams. But as many other things around Valentine Mansion, the now ruined library served as silent testimony and physical remainder of the economical downfall of the once proud Count Valentine. Ivy bumped constantly into those at every inch of the edifice.

-"Well, I have managed to keep the house, for now at least until those barbarian bankers decide to take it away from me and complete their revenge against the Valentines" - Ivy thought to herself, a strange brew of sadness and anger interwoven on her words. Her fingertips lifted deep coats of dust from an old tome of Chaucer's tales. The familiar warmth of tears at her deep blue eyes fought to be set free but she held them furiously at bay as she dusted the dirt off her hands angrily.

The youngest and last survivor of the Valentines wasn't alone in her newly experienced misery; she had kept the essential service to keep the vast place livable. About 10 servants, those who had worked under her grandfather and were reluctant to leave the place they knew as home also, managed to take care of the meager, routine things that could be depriving her of time for her precious research. She never really cared about decorating and making the mansion the envy of the ton, as her late mother Lady Valentine did. Her exquisite touch and taste could be still felt in the elaborate ornaments and rich fabrics, the elegant, fashionable furniture and expensive works of art. Actually, there weren't many of those anymore, only the empty walls that used to display them. Count Valentine, in one of his fits of utter desperation, had gambled away almost all the legacy of hundreds of years of art, including family heirlooms that both her mother's family and the Valentines had proudly displayed as evidence of their antique lineage. All gone now, in a single draw of a hand.

Her mother, God bless her soul on Heaven, had managed to keep Isabella's considerably wealthy dowry in a secret account that only her and the family bookkeeper Davies knew about, fearing her father in one of his fits of insanity, might had tap too into those resources had he'd been aware of their existence. Countess Valentine always kept the secret hope that her daughter would finally come to her senses and accept one of the countless marriage proposals she received on a daily basis. Her mother admitted that her stunning daughter was blessed with unusual qualities that attracted men instantly but cursed with a roguish streak that was more proper for a young rogue than for a lady.

-"If only you had been born male instead of female, you could have been an incredible personality and God only knows what you could achieve" - her mother always said with regret. It hurt Isabella deeply that she could never fit the mold Mama would have wanted her to fit into; that she never managed to please her with the planning of a decadently lavish wedding for her platinum haired child. This is merely one more thing she would reflect upon for the remainder of her life, just one more concern to be piled upon to join a myriad more on her already convoluted spirit and mind.

Lady Isabella, Ivy for those closest to her, had to admit to herself that it was her father's unusual way of seeing life and his completely lack of interest in behaving "properly" like an average noble that enabled her to behave in ways alien to the typical ladies of her age. Her mother had already given up in trying to lead Isabella into conducting herself like a woman of respect in society, but hoped that her incredible blonde, blue eyed looks, refined intellect and dashing personality would still attract good suitors for marriage. And she did get some of the "best", at least for society's mediocre standards that is. On the glory days of the splendid parties and lavish clothes, the parade of young men from the crème de la crème of London aspired hopelessly to be the chosen one to receive the youngest Valentine's affections, just to leave disheartened every time, again and again.

-"Poor Mama, she really thought I would take one of those fools for husband."- The marriage proposals kept trickling after the fall of the Valentine dynasty, albeit not as favorable or enticing as when they were still among the most powerful family of all the king's England. She didn't have the fortune they used to boast about, but continued to be known as one of the most beautiful, noble and enigmatic women of the British Empire. Instead of being a turn off, her age (at her late 20's,she was way past the usual prime age for marriage) was an enticing fact for many who wanted to thread into the shroud of mystery the youngest Valentine offered. Her suitors had kept a secret challenge among them from years and the legend still lived on: who among them would have the privilege of having the pleasure of taming the wild Lady Isabella Valentine?

Mama's dowry instead ensured Ivy a livable, albeit modest life in the Mansion. She could not indulge in vices as she did in their prime years, but Ivy didn't care for none, at least for now. There were more vital issues at stake now. Any sacrifice was small compared to the challenge before her. Her mind was engulfed, possessed into something much more important. It was vital that she succeeded in her quest. After all, it was her very own sanity and soul that were in stake. Nothing mattered but the successful completion of the task that gave her meaning amidst the unfathomable pain of losing the ones you loved so tragically and having the very foundations of your life taken away forever.


To the Countess disapproval, the Count was a silent partner and accomplice, encouraging all her unladylike eccentric ideas and behavior, as her mother considered them. Count Valentine had approved enthusiastically the fencing classes, the advanced studies in sciences, history and languages, even the alchemy and dark arts classes that only he knew about. When she scandalized the whole city of London and nearby towns when her long, platinum blonde tresses gave way to an almost masculine haircut, he had stood beside her faithfully. There were never words of reprimand for any of those events, only loving support. She suspected that he sympathized with her because through her he enjoyed the son he never had.

-"But now he is gone and so my mother and I'm only left with this"- she said looking at the multitude of old large volumes of obscure books around her. A deep anger that had been sowed in her heart kept burning brightly every passing day, kindled by the truth behind her dearest father's demise. The pages of his beaten up leather bound diary had revealed everything to her devastatingly. Line by line, sentence by sentence, word by word the portrait of a man being driven to insanity was being revealed until what was left was the shell of a man once known as the proud Count Valentine. In her eyes her strange yet loving father had turned into a careless dreamer, a fool who traded all his fortune and possessions for a fever dream that became his living nightmare and in the end buried him. In her hands rested the responsibility of restoring the name of her family into its proper place in society.

Her mother had dreamed of her daughter been a part of the Royal Court, but Ivy knew better. She had always laughed and despised the idea of being content with just being another lady at the court. Ivy laughed at the image of herself curtsying at nobles, musing empty babbling phrases to Earls and Princes, begging for their attention.

-"Guess my true origins explains my roguish manners"- she said to herself as a soft, sarcastic smile formed in her plump lips, masquerading the pain the thought evoked. Ivy had always questioned to herself why she lacked all the wonderful qualities the splendid Countess Valentine possessed. At her deathbed and still mourning deeply the demise of her loving husband, her sweet mother had exposed the answer to this. The truth had been uttered simply yet it had been so devastating that it almost drove Isabella to madness. The cute girl that had blessed their home almost 30 years ago was not their daughter in flesh. The revelation brought into painful perspective all the differences that had separated her Mama from her, the abyss that she could never bridge and would never have the opportunity to fill. She stoically accepted her new identity, swearing to find her true lineage, the origin of the blood that ran on her veins that had imbued her with such particular traits that separated her and her adopted mother.

But now, her attention was placed into following her father's research. She wanted to understand how and why he had spent everything he had into looking for this "Sword of Immortality", the Soul Edge. Even if meant giving up her own soul on the quest, she was determined she will find out why. And as in everything else she had pursued before, she did not plan to fail.