Even as the Templars' greatest weapon, much of Élise's time in the chateau was spent like most of her time in Normandy: mundanity and chores. There were no cows to milk or fields to plow: their only agriculture was a small grape plantation in the back. But shopping, delivery, and cleaning all kept her busy when she was not training. Their chef, Henri, had tasked her with picking up vinegar from the market.

During her time in the market, she had heard from a crier that priests were now forbidden from wearing their robes outside of church. The Illuminati's mark on the new France was growing.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw the patriarch of the manor talking to his wife, as well as a more more surprising sight: Arno looking into the pantry. They had not talked since she had brought him breakfast.

"Arno, it's...it's nice to see you walking about."

"If you enjoyed seeing me walk, you shouldn't have inflicted that wound in the first place."

He was still being difficult. "Please, Arno. I couldn't...it's for the best you came under our care."

"Care," Arno scoffed, still having not turned around. "One does not come under the 'care' of an enemy. I'm simply your captive."

He was still so hostile, after all these days. She had naively expected it would fade.

"Arno, if you were our captive..." but nothing came to her. Maybe he was right. That did not change anything. "The real enemy here are those traitors in the Illuminati."

He turned, holding his food.

"I concur. For now."

He began walking away. She called to him, "But will you help us, Arno? Help us in our fight against these mad radicals?"

He stopped, looked down.

"I'll consider it."

Then continued off. She felt like a monster. But she swallowed her situation like bitter medicine, and turned.

He had not closed the pantry. Élise placed the jar in an empty spot on the second shelf. Before she could even close the door, Timothee spoke.

"Élise, it seems another one of ours friends has turned on us." He looked tired, bags under his eyes. "Francois-Thomas Germain."

"I'm afraid I've never heard of him."

"Unsurprising. He hasn't been...overtly involved in politics. He's one of our informants close to the king, serving as his silver smith. Or was. We put him there a long time ago to feed us information and provide what little influence he could. We're now nearly certain he's since turned to the Illuminati."

"What makes you so certain?"

"We found him feeding us false information. When we brought it to his attention, instead of providing a defense, he ceased contact with us entirely. Besides, he was close to Robespierre before his defection."

"I assume you want me to pay him a visit?"

Timothee cleared his throat. "Oui."

"It's been a long time since I broke into a manor."

"Actually he lives relatively modestly due to a falling out with his guild, in an apartment in Le Marias."

That was a refreshing change.

"Hmmm. Then killing him will be relatively easy, no?"

Timothee sighed, looking down, "Hard to say. He'll be expecting us."

He looked back up, adjusted his kravat, and added:

"But I do have some good news: we've put the finishing touches on that augmentation for your bracers! You can test them out whenever you would like!"