Élise's gloved hands were deep in warm and bubbly water as she, Henry, Arno, and Martin had been enlisted to help wash the dishes after the massive Templar luncheon. She had not been able to attend, the table being reserved for those of power and influence to discuss current affairs.
Jean Sylvain Bailly himself had been there, and several others she did not recognize, including two women. Roasted goose, fish, sauteed vegetables, and desserts had all been served to the guests. She had been forced to take a meal outside, a humble, stale half-baguette and cheese wedge.
As summer had turned to autumn, the mood had been tense. Arno's disposition had thawed slightly, as no more tragedy had occurred since the Champ de Mars massacre, and Bailly's despotic declarations seemed to be so far inconsequential. But no one knew what to do about the king. Treat him too generously, and they invited the wrath of the common people of France. Treat him too harshly, and the other Europeans might invade. And either outcome seemed to set the stage for an Illuminati power grab. Although an anti-royalist uprising seemed the most obvious way for the likes of Marat and Robespierre to take power, Timothee had warned the risk of Ceasarism a foreign invasion could bring. Their only hope was for slow, sober change. That really had defined their conflict with the Illuminati since day one. The Assassins fought for nothing. The Illuminati fought too hungrily.
She heard the kitchen door open. The Chobat patriarch entered.
"Élise, Arno, I think it's time to combine your talents. Come."
Hearing their names together was poignant. Were they about to have their second mission together? It felt like an eternity since their stay together in the prison, yet she paradoxically remembered it like yesterday. Élise hung up her gloves and eagerly followed Timothee out into the main chamber. She wondered what Arno was thinking as he did the same.
He gestured them to take a seat on the couch, as he took a seat on the chair across. She felt extremely conscious of Arno's presence as her butt settled on the scarlet cushion.
Timothee, hands on his thighs, leaning forwards, began.
"Élise, Arno. I'm sorry you missed out on such a delicious feast, but believe me, I would have rather dined with you on cheese and bread than have to eat discussing the current affairs. In fact, there was guest that didn't come to our lunch today at all. I long suspected him of having switched his allegiance to that damn Weishaupt. This seems to confirm it. He likely thought the invitation was a trap."
Timothee continued, "He...his name is Joseph Servan. Joseph Marie Servan de Gebey. Colonel in Le Gardes Françaises . Experienced war veteran. As if by divine insult, Joseph serves in the halls of our knightly fore fathers, the Templar fortress in the Square Du Temple. I began to suspect his disloyalty when Martin turned up evidence he had been illicitly moving weapons and ammunition out of the fortress without my knowledge."
"To whom?" Arno asked.
"That's just it, Monsieur Dorian." Monsieur Dorian, things really had changed since Élise first brought him in. "We don't know. That's why I want you two to investigate, and just maybe turn up some answers. If not, at least disrupt the operation."
"You don't want us to just kill him?" Élise asked.
"Even the two of you, I would not trust to infiltrate such a place, I'm sorry to say."
"Why not simply inform the authorities?" Arno asked.
"They would wonder why it was my concern what went on in the Temple in the first place. Not to mention any information a legal investigation turned up would be strictly out of my reach, and might even implicate us. Keeping an ancient trans-national conspiracy under wraps is more difficult than you give us credit for, mon garçon."
"Where is the fortress?" Arno asked. Élise already knew, roughly.
"Le Marais district. The tallest building. Gothic in appearance. There are two exits on opposite sides from which I'd expect him to move supplies."
"And we each watch one of those exits?"
"Precisely."