It was mid-afternoon when the Templar chateau was finally back in view. Élise was a ragged sight: a giant bruise an her cheek, a deep gash on her right arm that rendered it nigh incapacitated, and a tremendous bloody spot on her sleeve. But finally, she was home.
"Élise!?" the front guard asked in disbelieve.
"Yes, Monsieur. I'm afraid I failed the task I was given."
"Your wounds need tending to! Please, come in!"
He eagerly opened the gate.
The gardens, vibrant but modest compared to Versailles.
Given the scope of her task, perhaps failure was not surprising. But she had never reported a failure before.
Her injured frame caught the attention of some of the others, but she tried to pay them no mind.
She entered the chateau to find Grand Master François chatting with Timothee. They both turned to her, and their mouths fell agape.
"I'm sorry, Grand Master. I failed to kill either of the royal couple."
But instantly, somehow, she knew something was wrong.
"Kill the royal couple? Are you mad!?"
She forgot all about her previous problems.
"Monsieur Robespierre said those were your orders!"
The Grand Master looked back at Timothee, who bared a similar expression, then back at her.
"I gave no such a order!"
There was a heavy silence. This was even bigger than she had imagined. She was not just reporting a failure, but a betrayal within their ranks.
Maybe her failure was a good thing.
He asked, "Have you seen Maximilien since?"
"No, Grand Master."
He looked down, stunned in silence for a second. Élise felt like a scared, little lamb caught in the middle of this. He slammed his walking stick down on the floor.
"Dammit! First those traitors in Bavaria, now this!?"
Denis, who had just entered the room, spoke up: "You're trusting the word of an Assassin over one of our own!?"
"Former Assassin!" François thundered back. "And show some gratitude. Élise rescued you from that terrible prison!"
Élise was shaking from the emotions of the moment.
The Grand Master looked down in distress, shaking his head and scratching his brow slightly. "He was a fanatic, not so different from Weishaupt. I should have known he'd go sour."
Timothee spoke. "Grand Master, respectfully, I could take this opportunity to gloat. I warned you about Maximilien. But I rather suggest we be rational about this. I think we should wait until we have all the facts before jumping to conclusions. Perhaps it was some sort of misunderstanding."
"Right," the distressed man said. Recomposing himself and readjusting the scarf on his neck, he looked back at Élise, solid and earnest. "I'm going to launch and investigation. In the mean time, I'm afraid you'll have to be...detained. Forbidden from leaving this chateau, I mean. And for the time being, you must relinquish your arms."
"I understand, Monsieur."
It all felt like a punch in the stomach, but even she was likely not the most burdened by this news.