"You ther-"
Her pistol bucked and roared, and the musket ball ripped into the poor guard's chest. The sound of the shot echoed residually as he fell his knees, face shocked.
"Élise...is that you?" Martin said from inside his cell. He was far from his glory days: sweat-stained rags, tousled hair, and his previously clean-shaved face had become a scruffy beard.
"That's right. This time the princess rescues the knight from the tower."
She jogged over and reached for the keyring she had taken from Bernard-René Jourdan.
"What's going on out there?"
"The people are rising up. This morning they stormed the Hôtel des Invalides, acquired hundreds of weapons. No powder to fire them though, I'm afraid, but there should be plenty in this building."
The gate clicked opened, and Martin quickly looted the dead man's body for his weapon.
"Where's Denis?" Élise asked.
"Cell at the far end of the hall," he said.
"Excellent, let's go."
Martin was little more than an errand boy, but Denis was one of François' most trusted men. Their arrests had shaken up François deeply. Their honor had been avenged, now to get them to safety.
Élise asked, "So, did they ever tell your the charges?"
"Spying for enemies of the state."
Charges these days were often a joke, but that one was actually true enough.
They came to Denis' cell, and saw him waiting at the bars, but he was a jarring sight: he looked severely beaten, a bruise on his neck right at the end of his long, wavy hair, and a large purple circle around his blood-shot right eye.
"Élise. Good. Get me out of here."
"Are you okay, Monsieur?"
"I'm fine...now. Those royalist scum...they...nevermind. Get me out."