Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
Élise awoke to the gloomy pre-dawn, Arno's soft snores lulling her to return to sleep, his arm around her waist. The rain was coming down, casting Paris in a haze of silvery grey. Élise looked around, noting their discarded clothes on the floor, wondering what could have woken her. Arno grunted in his sleep, rubbing his nose against her shoulder. She saw it then, by the bay windows, a note had been slipped beneath one. It brought back memories of the unopened letter in her father's study.
Fear freezing her gut, Élise disentangled herself from Arno's warm embrace and slipped out of bed, shivering in the chill morning. She pulled on a shift and padded over to the letter. She plucked it from the floor and sat in the nearest chair, the muted first rays of dawn giving her enough light to read the note. There was no address on the envelop, just her name and the Templar cross in the corner. Frowning, Élise picked up Arno's letter opener, and slid the thin blade beneath the envelope's flap. She pulled out the single paged letter.
Sister—
Please, do not be alarmed by my contacting you for I write to you in haste. I hope that soon we'll be able to meet face to face as you and I are all that's left of our great order after the fall of that bastard François-Thomas Germain. It grieves me to hear that he was the source behind your noble father's death.
As you prepare yourself to rebuild the Order, a word of caution I give to you: trust no one. Not even those you call friend.
Enemies swarm around you, hiding in the shadows, Templar and Assassin alike. The death of Germain and his inner circle have allowed weaker and more obscure elements of our Order to make a grab for power. They will beguile you with honey tongues and sweeter lies, even attempt to usurp your claim as Grand Master. You are young and naïve, easily blinded by all that glitters and I would hate to have the same fate befall you that befell your father.
Please, sweet sister, I urge you to trust me.
Again, please do not be alarmed and stay on your guard. I wish you all the best as the new Grand Master of the French Rite of the Knights Templar.
May the Father of Understanding guide you.
Arno gave a loud snort in his sleep. Élise looked up watching him roll into the warm spot she left behind. He kicked the blanket until one leg was exposed, the curve of is buttocks visible. She held the letter opener, then looked down at the letter in her hand, reading it again. How did this person know where she was staying? Had Ruddock betrayed her? Was she being followed? Were they the mysterious Lady Eve Kenneth mentioned beneath Franciade? Though the way they spoke of Germain made Élise believe that whoever penned the letter wasn't one of Germain's agents.
Élise looked about the room, searching for shadows, yet finding none. She stood, setting the letter opener down. She began to pace, holding the letter in her hand, rereading it until she could almost recite the letter verbatim. Arno made another sleepy sound, then scratched his back.
Élise looked around Arno's room, kicking at the discarded clothes as she walked pass them. He certainly knew how to warm her up after making their way through the rainy streets of Paris last night. She was sweating by the time they had finished, her heart full to bursting with love and happiness, her emotions reflected in his eyes. She felt safe and warm in his arms. They had fallen asleep in each other's embrace, their heartbeats their lullabies. She groaned, tossing her hands down and glancing at the ceiling. The cryptic origins of the letter caused a flood of nervous energy to rush through her body.
Élise walked over to the desk and tossed the letter upon it. She'll show it to Mr. Weatherall later. She turned back to her clothes, grimacing at them then going to the Arno's wardrobe and opening it. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the wood and his lingering scent. Tucked at the bottom was a fresh pair of her own clothes. She glanced at him, before grabbing her clothes and dressing. Élise almost wanted to wake him up, but last night had been a whirlwind of emotions. No, best let Arno sleep. Blowing him a kiss, she left Arno's room.
Élise wandered down the hall, the café still and silent in the early morning. She heard sound of sword strikes against training dummies, following it Élise found the training room. She watched the man within, his skin dark, his rapier making lightning quick flashes in the gloomy light. Élise entered the room and watched the man train in silence. He stopped after a few heartbeats, his back to her. "What do you want Templar?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"How did you know I was a Templar?" Élise asked, coming further into the room. He turned to face her, body relax yet capable of springing into action.
"Your footsteps," he said, pointing the tip of his blade at her feet, "while light, indicative of someone familiar with the blade are too heavy for someone of the Brotherhood."
"You could tell that by the sound of my footsteps?" Élise asked. The man nodded. "How did you guess I was Templar and not just some swordfighter?"
"Again, your footsteps. A common swordsman would have a light step, a Templar a lighter step, and an Assassin the lightest. Your footsteps weren't the first or the last, so—"
"The middle option, Templar," Élise said, smiling. "Clever, can all Assassins tell the difference in the sound of a person's steps?"
"You speak of Arno, no?" the man said. Élise blushed and he chuckled. "He can. Though I suppose he can tell it's you by more than just your footsteps. I'm rude," he said, inclining his head in apology, "Augustine Grisier. I train the Assassins in combat, er, beyond what their masters already tutor them in."
"Élise," she said, "I thought Assassins were supposed to stick to the shadows."
"Think of what I teach the Assassins as… plan B."
"I see," Élise said perusing the weapons on the wall. She selected a graceful blade with a basket hilt. She hefted it, getting a feel for its balance before giving it a few experimental swings. "Heavier than what I'm used to," Élise muttered, before facing Grisier. "You don't mind, do you?"
He chuckled. "Not at all, it's always more enjoyable with a partner," he said. Élise laughed, taking an en garde stance.
"I know what you mean," she said, smiling as she delivered the first strike. Grisier deftly blocked, their swords meeting, singing steel's song. Grisier disengaged his weapon with Élise's. He swung and Élise blocked, she took a step closer bearing down on him. He laughed, pushed against her, sending her staggering back a few steps. His follow up strikes lashed out viper-swift, Élise had trouble blocking them, and rolled to the side to avoid the final one.
Grisier didn't give a moment to breath, his sword darting in and out like a flitting hummingbird, searching for a weakness in her defense. Élise growled, the thrill of this dance thrumming in her veins. She had always enjoyed swordplay more so than other womanly endeavors. She spun, twirling her blade with a flourish to block Grisier's blade at the side, the steel singing loudly in the early morning stillness. She panted, sweat glistening on her brow, her red hair sticking to her skin, and a large grin on her lips. "You have great skill," Grisier said. "Who—"
"Bloody hell, Élise!" Weatherall groused, from the doorway, leaning on his crutches, "How many times to I have to tell you stop bloody showing off!"
"Mr. Weatherall?" Élise stammered, lowering her sword. Grisier lowered his as well, tilting his head to the side, curious. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to prevent you from making a damn fool of yourself," Weatherall huffed, hobbling to a chair and sitting down. "Alright, continue. Don't mind me, I'm just the old fart that taught her the sword."
"It's just a spar, Mr. Weatherall," Élise retorted, indignant. Weatherall's face purpled.
"Just a spar? Just a spar!" Weatherall thundered, thumping his crutches on the ground. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you? The only difference between a spar and a real fight is that both participants have agreed to not kill each other."
Élise bowed her head, worrying the ground with the point of her sword. "Yes," she acquiesced, "you're right. I'm sorry."
He pursed his lips, flaring his moustache. "Of course you are," he mumbled, then he offered a kind smile. "Anyway, continue." He waved his hand and Élise slid back into a proper fighting stance, acutely aware her teacher was now going to be hyper critical of all her moves. Grisier began to press the attack, pulling her concentration from Weatherall's presence in the room to focus on not allowing Grisier first blood.
The sun began to rise and her arms began to burn with exhaustion. "Move your feet Élise!" Weatherall barked. She grimaced, moving her feet, and when she executed a particularly fancy move he'd bark, "Élise, damn you, I told you how many times to stop showing off?!" She couldn't remember the last time she sparred so intensely and with such a skilled partner. Probably back when she was still training, before her father died and her world came crashing down around her ears, before revenge consumed her. She and Arno will have to start sparring again to keep their skills sharp. Germain may be dead but the mysterious letter writer was right about one thing: Enemies lurked everywhere.
A shadow flickered behind Grisier, near one of the windows. A person, watching them. Élise fixed her gaze for a moment upon the figure. She blinked, and the specter vanished. The tip of Grisier's sword was suddenly too close to her face. She brought her sword up to guard, but it only managed to deflect the blade slightly, scoring a hit. The tip nicked the corner of her eye, stopping at her ear. "Élise, I'm sorry," Grisier said, dropping his blade.
She touched the wound, blood coming away. "Don't be," Élise said, "it was my fault."
"What the bloody hell happened, Élise?" Weatherall asked, pushing himself up and onto his crutches. He hobbled over to her, taking her chin in his gnarled old hands and looking at the small cut by her eye. "Just a cut, nothing too serious. What happened?"
"I… I got distracted," Élise mumbled, glancing at the window. Weatherall looked in the direction as well. He frowned.
"Keep your head about you when you fight," he added.
"My apologies, Élise," Grisier said. "I hope Arno wouldn't be too upset."
Élise smiled. "Arno will understand, but I think that means I'm done for the day," she laughed, smiling at both men. "Thank you for allowing me to spar with you," Élise told Grisier, "even if I am a Templar."
"Arno speaks highly of you," Grisier said, "that alone assures you some measure of… safety from our blades within these walls." Grisier smiled. "Besides, you handle the blade well. Sometimes the way a person wields a weapon speaks louder than their words. You have my respect."
"Thank you, I'm pleased to hear that Arno's wrath is terrifying enough to make you all think twice about trying to gut me," Élise laughed. She handed Grisier her sword. "Next time you won't have such an easy victory."
"I look forward to it mademoiselle," Grisier said. Élise inclined her head.
"And while I'm here, I'll like to introduce my teacher," Élise said, resting her hand on Weatherall's shoulder. "Frederick Weatherall, he too is a Templar, and my guest."
"Augustine Grisier," the Assassin said. Weatherall smiled and shook his hand.
"Pleasure," Weatherall said.
"Well, I'll leave you two to discuss swordplay," Élise said, leaving the training room.
The maids had begun their morning chores, Élise could smell baking bread and bacon; her stomach grumbled in response. One maid passed her in the hall, a basket of dirty laundry in her arms.
"Pardon me, mademoiselle," Élise said, snagging the maid by the arm. "Could you fetch me some hot water for a bath and clean clothes?"
The maid stared at Élise with a mixture of horror and jealousy that was quickly masked with submissiveness. "Oui," she mumbled, a tiny smile gracing her lips.
"Merci," Élise replied. "Bring it to Arno's room if you would be so kind."
"Of course Mademoiselle," the girl mumbled, grey eyes on the floor. She trotted off quickly, not daring to look back at Élise. The redhead snorted, a bit bemused by the girl before entering Arno's room. She found Arno still sleeping, smiled at the sight. She was tempted to join him. Despite a vigorous spar, she felt tired. A knock sounded on the door and Élise turned to see the maid. She smiled at the young woman and watched her pour the bath water. Élise thanked her once she was done, stripped and entered the tub. She washed quickly, she was never a fan long soaks.
She got out of the tub and stared at herself in the mirror. Her breasts have been tender of late, and she had her bleeding last week. Both weren't caused for concern; it was the tiredness she was worried about. Her breasts always got tender around her bleedings. "I'm just stressed," Élise told herself, before slipping on a shift and padding over to the bed. It was still early morning, and she could give herself a few private hours with Arno. She slipped in, snuggling close to him.
He jerked his feet away, opening his eyes. "Your feet are wet," he whispered, placing a hand on her hip and running it up and down her side. Élise gave him a lazy smile.
"Well, you're warm," she said tapping his nose. He chuckled, stretching. He looped his arms around her, kissing her temple. "You're feeling better, Arno?" Élise asked, cupping his cheek. He nodded, tilting his head to kiss her palm. She stroked his cheek, feeling the coarseness of his stubble against her fingers.
"I am," he said, "and I will be." He ran his hand up her stomach and over her breasts, stopping to squeeze one. Élise hissed at the unexpected pressure. Arno smirked, repeating the action.
"Arno, stop it," Élise said, squirming away from him and pushing his hand off her breasts. "They're tender and it hurts."
"I can be gentle," he cooed into her neck and placed a kiss there. "Though you seemed to enjoyed it rough last night," he kissed her behind the ear, "in the alley."
"Arno!" Élise shrieked through her laughter. "I like it when you're gentle too."
"Ah, but you enjoy it when I'm rough," he teased, smiling when she giggled. "You know," his hand snaking back up to her breasts, "I've heard women have tender breasts when they're pregnant," Arno mused, tracing the curve of her breast with a finger. Élise froze.
"I'm not pregnant," she said, swallowing thickly.
"Oh, I didn't think you were, I was just saying…" Arno trailed off. She winced, knowing how strongly he wanted a child. She twisted around to look at him, a smile on her face. She kissed him.
"We'll have a family, Arno. I promise," she said, "we'll get there. We just… I just need some time."
"I understand," he muttered, though his embraced loosened. Élise felt a pang in her chest, wanting to cheer him up, wanting him to smile again, like he did before her initiation ceremony. She sighed, knowing she had to give him some hope.
"Maybe… maybe this spring," she said, tracing his jaw to get him to look at her. "We can try. I… The order should be settled then, well… most of it should be under my control by then. That's not far off. Would that be acceptable?" Élise asked. "I mean; we have a lot to rebuild before we start… building something new."
She felt him sigh, his embrace tightening around her. Élise smiled, snuggling against him. "Spring sounds good," he mumbled into her hair. "Though, what all do you have to do for your order?"
Élise groaned. Not wanting to think about that particular headache right now. "Germain's death has sent the order into complete chaos. There are those that are loyal to him, those loyal to whatever charismatic they've chosen to rally around," Élise said, "and then there are those that are still loyal to the de la Serre name. They're in hiding in other countries or dead or too terrified of Germain's supporters to openly support me."
"Sounds like a terrible mess."
"It is," Élise said. "A mess I could've avoided if I asserted myself after my father's death." But I didn't. "Now that I'm proposing a truce with the Assassins, it'll be even harder for me to find allies."
"You'll find them," Arno said with confidence she didn't feel. "What else?"
"Well, I'm going to need an ascension ceremony. Typically, they aren't required, but I need to make a public statement about becoming Grand Master and I'll need a soirée afterward."
"You think the people will approve of a soirée?" Arno asked.
"No… I don't know. They might, especially if I say all are welcome and this is to celebrate the dawning of a new era for the people of France," Élise sighed. "I'll talk to Mr. Weatherall, I'm sure he'll know what to do."
"I haven't really met him, but he seems like an honorable person… for a Templar," Arno said. Élise giggled, knowing he teased her.
"He is," Élise said, "he's very dear to me. The kindly uncle I never had. I'll introduce you two properly, later."
"He'll be at our wedding I assume."
"The wedding," Élise sighed. Just another thing to worry about. They needed parental consent for a marriage contract, and money for the bans and the official. Not to mention money for the reception, and someplace willing to host it, and food for the guest and money to pay the cook. She needed to make an appointment with a seamstress for a wedding dress, and she had to sew Arno a shirt. Élise sniffed, tears leaking from her eyes. She rubbed at them furiously.
"Élise, it's alright," Arno said, a note of panic in his voice. "We don't have to get married now. I was thinking a wedding in December would be nice."
"December? Yes, that… that would be nice," Élise said, sniffling. "I'm sorry, I'm just stressed."
"Élise, it's alright," Arno said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm here. You don't have to do everything on your own, please," he looked at her, "allow me to take some of the burden. I can talk to the magistrate at the city hall. I can take care of the finances and funding, de Sade gave us the ten thousand livres, we can use some of the money to fund the wedding. It'll be alright Élise."
"I know, I know," Élise took several deep breaths until she got her nerves under control. "I'm sorry, I haven't been feeling myself lately."
"It's alright," Arno said, "the last week has been difficult for both of us."
"I don't know how to be a wife, Arno," Élise said, "I'm dismal at being domestic. I mean, Madame Angélique did try to teach me how to be a proper wife. Well, she managed, but I forgot almost everything she taught me! I was groomed to be the Grand Master! Not… not a wife!"
"Élise," Arno said, cupping her cheek, "I don't want a fancy wife. I don't want a wife that can manage a household and balance the books. I want you exactly as you are, as my wife."
"Arno…"
He gave her an easy smile. "I mean, if I had wanted a fancy wife I could've had my pick of anyone of the noble daughters in Versailles. All I had to do was smile at them and their hearts melted."
Élise pursed her lips together, before cupping his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss, nipping his lip. "Like I'd let one of those airheaded twits have you. You're mine Arno Victor Dorian, now and forever," Élise smirked, "whether you like it or not," she finished. She kissed him again, and he moaned, pulling her hips closer to his.
"Keep this up and my rifle will be primed and ready," Arno purred, grinding his hips against her. Élise flushed.
"So, early?" she teased, pressing a hand against his stomach, and she shifted her hips. He groaned softly, nibbling at her ear.
"Yes," Arno growled. His hips twitched when her hand slipped between them, finding his cock. "Élise," he said in a breathy sigh. Élise smirked.
"I don't mind if you fire my way," she cooed, pressing a small kiss to his lips, her hand running up and down his length. "Though," she whispered, a glint darkling in her eyes, "I have an idea."
"An idea?" Arno asked. He gasped, when her nail scratched the sensitive tip. Élise nodded, smirking in satisfaction at his expression: eyes closed, lips parted and a flush coloring his cheeks. He was at her complete mercy. "Wh-what's y-your idea?" he gasped, bucking against her hand. "Damn… that feels good."
She chuckled. "Well, I think you'll enjoy it," she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm. She slipped his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it for a moment, before peeling her lips to reveal his thumb caught between her teeth. She twisted her hand, and a moan escaped his lips. He pulled his thumb free and traced her lips with it.
"I like that idea," Arno muttered. "Just so long as you don't bite me like last time." Élise chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him before slipping out of the bed. "Élise!" Arno protested. Élise giggled, trotting over to the door and locking it. A lusty look appeared in her eye and she lifted her chin.
"Get comfortable Arno," she said. "You'll be screaming by the time I'm finished." She winked at him, "I promise won't bite... much."
The air in the sanctuary was still, like a trap waiting to be sprung. Élise could feel the eyes of the Assassins lurking in the shadows upon her, eagles whispering to each other, wondering why the mouse had wandered into their eyrie. She pressed herself closer to Arno, finding his fingers, lacing hers with his. Her heart continued its quick tattoo against her ribs, Arno's grip on her hand did little to ease her fears. He led her not to the council chamber like last time, instead he took her down a hallway to the left and stopped before a door. Two guards stood on either side.
"The Mentor is expecting us," Arno said. One of the guards nodded, and knocked briskly on the door three times.
"Enter!" Trenet called and the guard opened the door for them. Élise exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding.
Trenet stared at her from behind her desk, the woman's grey eyes sharp and calculating like an eagle pondering the mouse before her, curious to learn its reason for wandering into the hidden eyrie of the eagles.
Élise was a brave mouse however, and she let go of her eagle's hand and sat down opposite Trenet, though off center, so the Assassin never stared directly at her. Élise saw Trenet shift a bit in her seat; Élise kept her face neutral but secretly she smirked, pleased that she was able to unbalance the older woman. "You have summoned me?" she asked, her voice strong and she stamped her fear beneath her boot.
"Arno leave us," Trenet said, flicking her eyes over to Arno.
"Mentor, with all due respect," Arno said, "I feel—"
"I don't give a rat's ass about what you feel, I wish to speak to Grand Master de la Serre privately, now get out!"
Arno's cheeks colored, and he snapped his heels together and gave a curt bow. "Yes, Mentor." He glanced at Élise and Trenet, "I'll uh, wait outside," he mumbled before leaving. The door shut softly behind him. Élise swallowed, very aware she was in a room with the Mentor of the Assassins.
Trenet visibly relaxed. "Tea?" she asked. Élise blinked, caught completely off guard. "Or would you prefer coffee?"
"Uh…" Élise stammered. She was expecting the woman to be confrontational, unhappy that she agreed to the truce. She was one of the naysayers when Arno brought her before the council.
"I didn't poison it," Trenet added, as if that made Élise feel better. "Horrible way to start off a truce… or rather a friendship, between Templar and Assassin, if I poison the Grand Master."
"It would be an Assassin thing to do," Élise quipped, feeling comfortable as the waters shifted towards hostility. Trenet's frowned.
"It would be the Templar thing to do," she countered. Élise sighed, realizing that this tit-for-tat method would only dissolve the truce before it began.
"I'm sorry," Élise said. "Arno is truly the only Assassin I trust." She bowed her head, collected herself before looking up at the other woman. "Tea would be nice," she said, and forced a smile.
Trenet nodded, pouring from the teapot that sat upon her desk. "I'm only truly considering this because Arno spoke so… adamantly of a truce between our two sides. Though your… desire for the Apple was a bit troubling."
"I don't want the damn thing anymore," Élise said, muttering a soft thank you as she accepted the tea cup.
"Oh?" Trenet arched a brow. "And why is that?"
"It's connected to the man that murdered my father… or rather I fear it may be. Regardless, it'll be safe in Egypt." Besides, Arno is right, the Apple of Eden won't bring my father back. Trenet nodded, sipping her tea and accepting Élise's answer. Élise sipped her own, savoring the creamy taste upon her tongue.
"Well," Trenet set down her cup and folded her hands on her desk, "after much deliberation I have decided to accept your truce."
"Really?" Élise asked. "Well, that's wonderful, yet I feel there's more than just blindly accepting the terms I laid before your feet."
Trenet chuckled. "You are rather sharp witted," she smiled, "I like that."
Élise smiled. "My mother told me that a woman's beauty is only half her arsenal, the other half… the most potent half is her mind."
"Your mother must've been a wise woman," Trenet said. Élise bowed her head, nodding in agreement.
"What are your terms then?" Élise asked, pushing her tea cup around on the saucer. Sharing such intimate feelings with this woman unnerved her. A lifetime of thinking of the Assassins as the enemy was hard to erase in a few moments of conversation.
"We agree that France will remain a non-combatant zone, and with a joint disciplinary council should trouble arise that affects both Assassin and Templar," Trenet said.
"And the new terms?" Élise asked.
"We will hunt fringe members of the Order, as was the condition agreed to by your father and Mirabeau. Positions of leadership will be done as it has always been done within each order, and we retain our alliances previously established," Trenet said, "even if the nation is currently an enemy of France. The war between Assassin and Templar, extends beyond borders and the mechanics of the crown heads of world," Trenet said, "it's only fitting that we maintain such alliances."
"I see," Élise said, mulling over this new information. "I will allow you to hunt fringe members, and I will send word to you of any Templar that has broken the truce. I dislike the fact you insist on maintaining the old alliances, but," Élise held up her hand, "I understand the benefit of it, and thus I'll allow it." Gaining confidence, she set her tea cup down on the desk and gave Trenet a sharp smile. "I have yet to formally announce my ascension as Grand Master, a flaw which I plan to remedy in short order." Élise chewed her lip. "I find these terms acceptable." She looked at the other woman. "Arno and I are committed to peace between Assassin and Templar. We've proven that we can transcend our orders' dogma and rhetoric."
"Indeed," Trenet agreed. She smiled at Élise. "I accept these terms because I wish to see France heal. Continuing the inflame the war between our two sides is folly at the moment, I cannot be sure if the Mentor after me will agree," she took a sip of her tea, "plus as I said in my letter, we Assassins are fond of taking leaps of faith. I trust Arno's judgement and he vouches for you."
Élise's eyes narrowed, a smile still on her lips. "I thank you," she said, "I understand that trust on both sides must be earned through action. I look forward to working with you, Mentor Trenet."
"And I you, Grand Master de la Serre," Trenet said with a nod. "I must implore you to bring to heel your Templars, and quickly."
"I will, I plan to," Élise said. "I doubt the Templars will be giving you any trouble at the moment," Élise grimaced, "considering they are squabbling amongst themselves for my position, but that can easily escalate."
"I know. Such infight is bad for either side, though I feel Templars are more inclined towards it," Trenet said. Élise chewed her cheek, keeping her opinions to herself. "If there is nothing else, you may rejoin Arno. I'm sure he's pacing like a caged tiger on the other side of the door."
Élise gave a snort at that. "Arno knows you won't hurt me. He doesn't worry that much," she said. Trenet arched a brow. Élise bowed her head, dismissing it. "There is one thing," she said.
"Ask."
"Do you know who killed Charles Dorian?" Élise asked. Trenet let out a long sigh and leaned back in her chair, head tilting up to stare at the ceiling.
"Charles death has been a great riddle for us, and we have yet to crack it." Trenet leaned forward, and stared at Élise. "He was on a mission for us, a… certain item from our American counterparts had recently arrived in France and he was to take possession of the item and deliver it to us. We would then hide or figure out how to deal with it."
"I see."
"Clearly, Haytham Kenway had an inside man, and he got to Charles before Charles could complete his mission," Trenet shook her head, "we examined Charles' body. The wound that was made matched our hidden blades. We knew Haytham Kenway possessed his father's hidden blades, but never heard of another Templar, for we assumed it was the Templars that were behind Charles' death, that had them."
"Did anyone try to find the killer?" Élise asked.
"Bellec did," Trenet said, "he tried to find Arno too. For Arno vanished from our knowledge after Charles' death. Alas, Bellec turned up empty hand on both fronts. The killer had to have Assassin training, it was the only logical conclusion as to why Charles was caught so completely off guard. We feared for a while that the killer took Arno, but upon further examination there was no evidence that Arno had been forcefully taken."
"My father took him in upon my insistence," Élise said. "I just wanted to help Arno, so I begged my father to do something. Shortly thereafter my father announced that Arno was going to be coming home with us."
"Did your father know?" Trenet asked. "What Arno was?"
"Yes. He told me too. I was sworn to secrecy of course," Élise said. I was also told to bring him over to the Templar side, but I never did. "One last question."
"Of course," Trenet said.
"Have you ever heard of a man named Shay Patrick Cormac?" Élise asked.
"No… wait," Trenet said, "I have. Mirabeau got a message from Achilles in '57 I think, saying that one of his Assassins had gone rogue, mentioned the name Cormac, I think. Why?"
"Because," Élise said, lifting her head, "Shay Patrick Cormac murdered Charles Dorian."
After suffering from a bad case of writer's block, I finally get my muse back and we can continue to move forward. :D
I know what I want, I know what's going to happen. I hope you guys stay tune for the next chapter and those beyond. I have lots in store: Shay, Marie, weddings, babies.
I'm personally fond of the mouse/Templar eagle/assassin symbolism in this chapter. Not that Élise is mousey, it's just that eagles eat mice and Assassins hunt Templars. :P
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Nemo et Nihil
PS: Edited stuff