It was just starting to get dark. They had endured a long, hard walk through the city, trying to trail Robespierre through nothing but local witness testimony. They had faced countless dead ends and two late arrivals. They were on the other side of Paris now.

So many thoughts she could not share had buzzed through her mind. How poignant was it she was working with an Assassin. But he did not know. How would she finally confess? Would she finally confess? Or would she simply put a bullet in his brain after she was done with him? Turn the man she had bonded with that night nearly a year ago into a mess on the ground? It was a horrible thought, but she had already betrayed ones she held dearer: her sister and father. Still, she had never needed to kill them.

What was stirring in Arno's mind? He had not asked questions, simply accepted the opportunity. But he was no fool.

They arrived at Holy Innocents' Cemetery entrance (one of them). The iron gate was opened. Robespierre? Just cemetery workers? But it was quiet. Dead quiet. Combined, this was unsettling.

"D'accord, let's head in," Élise whispered. "You watch the right, I'll watch the left."

"Bien."

They both withdrew their pistols from their holsters, and proceeded with soft foot falls. Élise could not deny she was scared. Robespierre and this pair of foreigners had exterminated the other three Assassins.

The cemetery was foreboding looking enough. A broken wagon, a cloth sack, a pile of -

"Rebonjour, Assassin." The familiar voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She turned to see who had spotted Arno.

"Élise? Well, this is pleasant surprise." It was Robespierre, in the same tasteless coat he wore to the Women's March, hands smugly behind his back. He was with three others she did not recognize, two of them armed with pistols pointed at her and Arno. Her gut told her those were the two foreigners she had been briefed about. "We haven't seen one another since that business in Versailles."

At this range, both sides were too afraid to miss to fire.

"When you betrayed us," she growled.

"Hmh. Betrayal? Speaking of which..." He returned his focus to Arno. "Assassin, did you know you're working with a Templar?"

She felt a flash of heat and prickles all over her face. The truth was out in the air.

He continued, "Élise-Emma de la Caen, the defector from Normandy."

An ocean of dread washed over her. She felt the spirit of herself and Arno drift a mile apart.

"And then who are you?" Arno shot back. She was pleased to still hear vigor in his voice.

"Someone who yearns for the days before the Templar Order became so weak and meek, when we had real ambition. My loyalty lies with Adam Weishaupt, now: The visionary of Bavaria."

He brought his hands forward, revealing a large metallic ball. "Lower your weapons, plaît."

The Apple! They had finally brought it back! And she realized that is how they had killed the three in the cottage: turned them against each other! Its crevices began to glow. Now, was this her final moment as a free-

But her mind felt her own. She kept her weapon steady. And Robespierre's smug expression began to melt away. She was almost certain Arno, though out of her line of sight, was equally defiant.

The immune. Like the legendary Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. Both she and Arno were among them. What fortune!

Footsteps from off to the side caught their attention.

"What the devil is going on here!?" Two blue coated soldiers had entered the scene, strides hot. "You, all of you, put down your arms at once!"

Maximilien's confidence seemed to return. The ball glowed again.

"Men, soldiers, do you not recognize these two? It is them, the ones behind the cottage murders in Le Quartier Latin!"

She looked back towards the soldiers, who were now looking at her and Arno with a tiger like fierceness.

"He's right, Simon! I saw them do the deed myself!"

The guard raised his gun, and Élise dived behind the nearest gravestone as the gun thundered and shattered a piece of stone wall.

Élise heard Arno's pistol fire, and the grunt one of the guards. Élise rose from her cover, and fired at the other. The musket ball hit Simon's chest, and he crumbled to the ground.

Robespierre and the other Frenchman were already running, but her immediate instinct to pursue was thwarted by the two pistol wielders were covering their escape.

Élise felt frustratingly at loss for an immediate course of action. Charging them would be a death sentence.

"La razza umana sarà un'unica famiglia e il mondo la dimora di uomini razionali!" one of them said.

Time was being eaten away, Robespierre getting further step by step. She glanced over at Arno very quickly, but he did not seem to have any better tricks up his sleeve.

It was so simple, just two men with pistols. Yet so frustratingly effective. Maybe she could circumvent -

Then the two began to slowly back away, keeping their pistols trained on the Assassins. Then they turned and broke into a run.

Élise began to give chase.

"Wait!" Arno cried.

She stopped and turned around, baffled anything could be more pressing!

Before she could speak, he spoke. "What was that about- are you - are you really a Templar? The traitor from Normandy? The one who gave away our secrets and-"

"There's no time for this, Arno! We have to-"

"You expect me to the ally with a Templar?"

Robespierre gained more distance with every word. She was furious. "Yes, now-"

"I won't!"

Somehow those words broke through to her. She had little hope of catching Robespierre now, and no hope of doing so with Arno accompanying her on the task.

She could turn and run, leave the Assassin unaccounted for, but her chances of catching the traitor now were small.

Her muscles loosened.

She was a fool to think this would be easy. Maybe it was impossible. She had brought herself to work with Templars, but she prided herself on her rationality. And even she had had to conquer a wall of emotions to do so.

She walked over, boots crunching the dirt that sheltered a hundred rotting dead.

"All your friends from Orléans are gone. My fellow Templars and I only hope to catch their killer."

"I-"

"On top of that you'd have two enemies to oppose. We can't let an Assassin simply wonder the city unaccounted for."

"I-"

She had an idea. A way to make this much easier.

Recounting her books on human physiology, she released her hidden blade and stabbed into his thigh. The femur was narrow, and she had purposely missed the bone, but surely broke a generous portion of muscle.

He grabbed his leg, cried out, and stumbled to the ground. He clutched the wound with both hands, face anguished.

"Te salope!"

"I made this decision easy for you. You wouldn't want two enemies in this condition, would you?"

"Putain de chatte!" he said, rocking back and forth. The words did hurt her. This was the man she had danced with, laughed with, dined with. But she knew she had done him a tremendous favor.

"We'll tend to that wound. Two weeks of hospitality and that leg will be back in working order. But for now you need us."

She looked towards one of the wheel barrows. They would probably not miss it much if she borrowed it for the night. "Come on, I'll help you up. We should leave before more guards arrive."

She offered her hand. He glared at her. Things had greatly changed since the festival. But he took it. With great vigor and a wince, hoisted himself up.

"Nom de Deiu ça fait mal!"