Le Marais district was a hodge-podge: the seriousness of war, the flashiness of wealth, and the modesty of middle class shopkeepers selling everything from fruits to hammers. It was also usually the first district she entered after leaving the chateau.
The sky was still gray, the street still a little bit damp. They had left the chateau just after waiting out the afternoon rain. They were arriving just short of sunset, not to begin their mission, but to scout, as Assassins often did, while it was still light and easy to see. It had been years since Élise worked with someone else raised in the creed.
Arno had provided some conversation on the way. It had been sporadic, but he was not overly hostile anymore.
"So how did you convince them to train you?" Arno said asked after a few minutes of silence.
"What do you mean?"
A clacking, horse-drawn carriage passed them.
"The Assassins. I assume it wasn't anyone else's idea to train a woman."
This was a subject she had not broached in a while. It took her back to her time first getting integrated with the Templars.
"No, I had to nag them for almost a year. They finally agreed to start when I was sixteen."
"But...why?"
"Why did they train me, or why did I desire training?"
"Both...I suppose."
They entered a narrow stretch of street, she knew they were close. She could see the outer wall ahead.
"I always had a fondness for boyish things. My father didn't like it, but my brothers indulged me when we were children. Then when they started training they let me watch, answered my questions, a couple of times let me fire a gun."
Old master Dellile hated Assassins wasting ammunition. Her brothers had to be conservative about that.
She weaved passed an old woman in a bonnet.
"My father and I grew distant after my mother and eldest sister's death. That brought me even closer to my brothers. But then my brothers left Normandy for where they were most needed. We saw Templar influence was growing across the world at lightening speed." It felt odd to refer to the Templars as the enemy again. What a stormy sea her life had been.
"I think they ended up in the New World. For a while I felt like my younger sister Eléonore was the only person I had in life..." she drifted off morosely. Eléonore had always been so content with her place as a woman in the order, yet always so supportive of Élise. She missed having someone with such an upbeat attitude.
She continued. "I knew they were desperate for more fighting hands. I confronted them, reciting the tales my brother told me about Annetta Marci da Firenze and Hope Jensen, women who had killed for our order. I showed them my talents. Eventually they gave in."
They passed a boutique, selling the same kind of clothing her father wished she wore more often.
"Annetta Marci and Hope Jensen. I've never heard of those two."
"They say Annetta died fighting in Rome, and had a hand in bringing down Pope Sixtus the Fourth. It's hard to believe the Templar Order used to have a place in papacy..."
Now the Templars were the Pope's most hated adversary.
Arno replied, "I wonder where they'd be if they still did..."
They. Arno still referred to the Templars in third person. Not first person, not even second person; It was almost as if even he did not see her as a true Templar.
Talking about this all felt so strange. They had both lived two worlds.
The pair finished the long stretch of narrow street and arrived at a long wall. She lifted her eyes to see the mighty Templar relic.
"There it is," she said. The historic site. The tall and proud remnant of a brutally extinguished, or so the public believed, order. As the Assassins had Hulagu Khan, the Templars had King Philip the Faire. Hopefully the Illuminati would prove a lesser threat than either.