Raoul watched her leave with a slight smirk but did not pursue her, he would have his chance again he knew.  After all the guards were always buzzing of news about the Scarlet Arrow; he could simply interrogate them, they were simple enough. He turned and walked back home in contemplative silence.  Once he got there he went to his father speaking his mind once more about the unfair treatment of the commoners.  The king, not used to having his views objected twice in one night, struck him hard across the cheek leaving a good sized cut and making him spit blood to keep it from filling his mouth. "Thank you for your understanding ear," he said sarcastically as he held his cheek his lip curling in distaste as he turned and left the room his foot steps echoing loudly on the floor of the deserted stone hallways.  That night he opened the red leather journal he kept in a locked roll top desk and began to write.  He poured the secrets and scandals of his family into the pages with an untold passion and sealed them in an envelope for later use should it be needed and fell asleep looking out the window and wondering a little about the masked vigilante.  The next night, his face black, purple, and angry looking he went out once more hoping to see the Scarlet Arrow once more, with a determination to find out just who she was.