More than a month had passed since Arno had slain Andre, the young traitor who succeeded Harbor Master Roland. Arno came in with Élise from a heavy, chilly rain, a gust of wind howling behind him before he shut the front door. In Paris, it would have been snow.

Denis was waiting at the table.

Arno spoke first. "It turns out those weren't Illuminati agents at all. They were spies for the Austrian royalty."

"Really? How do you know that, Arno?"

Arno took the letter they had recovered from his satchel, and handed it to the Templar. Denis began reading, with stern and hawkish eyes.

Élise explained, "They were spying on Rodet, not working for him. Respectfully, Monsieur, this proved a tremendous waste of time."

"And this is the only intelligence you could find on them?" Denis asked dourly, putting the paper down upon the table. "Nothing that might help us put the swine down?"

"That's it, sir."

"Damn it."

Then he interlocked his fingers and looked at them both.

"Illuminatis or monarchists, they both deserve the blade. Did you deal with them?"

What was the proper plural for 'Illuminatus', Arno wondered.

"No, Monsieur," Élise said "They escaped."

"Then how did you get this letter?"

"It's...complicated."

Denis looked ahead, frozen deep in thought. Thunder broke out in the distance. Then he finally looked up and said, "Fine, that's as far as we'll go down this path. We need to focus on Rodet directly. Just give me some time to think."

Glad to be done with business, Arno looked to Élise. "I'm going to go warm up by the fire, care to join me?"

"Most certainly," she said.

They began making their way to the main chamber when Denis called from behind:

"By the way, did you two hear the news?" They turned. "Bailly resigned."

"Jean Sylvain-Bailly?" Arno clarified.

"Oui. Never much liked that couillon anyway." Couilllon. He wondered how Élise would feel about that word, as if he recalled correctly it was Bailly who had swayed her to join the Templars. "The new mec's name is...Jerome Petion, I believe."

"Is he one of yours?"

"I won't confirm or deny that, Assassin."

'Assassin.' Even after all these months, that's still how he saw him. But he was correct, was he not? These were the kind of questions that kept Arno awake at night, that he tried to put aside when focusing on his work.

That had soured Arno's mood considerably, but he and Élise went to gather chairs to sit by the blaze.

They planted themselves.

"A remarkable year, hasn't it been?" Élise said.

"Indeed."

Not only did he have conflicting allegiances, but he could not deny tender feelings for the woman beside him. When they worked together, or ate together, those feelings always started to resurface. He watched the crackling fire destroy the log, smoke and the occasional spark drifting up the chimney.

"I know what you're feeling, Arno. I...Let's just...be grateful we can be allies for now, that we have a common enemy in the Illuminati." Arno felt both profoundly uncomfortable and deeply touched with these topics in the sundry. "But I hope...when the time comes...you'll...join us."

Arno felt so self-conscious, his chest felt tight. The fire danced. So many thoughts swirled through his head. He almost felt like he could weep.

She then said, "Let's not trouble ourselves with such things now."

"No," he said in immediate agreement. "Let's not."

But how to fill the silence? Such heavy thoughts were hard to wash away.

Dorian had an idea:

"So...Christmas right around the corner. What does a Templar Christmas look like?"

Élise chuckled. "I supposed that depends on the Templar. Timothee always liked the garlic soup and roasted capon."

"Roasted capon?"

"I believe its a neutered rooster."

"How do you...neuter a rooster? I thought birds..." He was not sure how to say it properly.

"...what?"

"I thought they had everything on the inside." He was thinking back to the pet parrot Pierre had kept, the one he had reluctantly inherited from a fallen comrade in the New World.

"I guess not all of them."

Getting one's testes chopped off was an unpleasant bit of business.

Élise continued, "I suspect here with Denis it's going to be a lot less about fine dining, and a lot more about the bottle."

Denis did not drink like Pierre, but Arno could see where she was coming from.

"Speaking of which..." Arno said. "...have you noticed the food prices recently? It seems the price of coffee and sugar has damn near doubled since we got here."

"It's Saint-Domingue," she responded. "The slaves rebelled. Maybe they've taken inspiration from us."

"Us?" The Templars, or...

"The men and women of France, I mean."

Dorian supposed that was something to be proud of, although he had never given the issue of negro slavery much thought. He had been raised to only think about the Assassin and Templar war: The Templars were evil because they sought to control mankind, if not through evil magics than through conspiracy. That's all he had been taught to care about.

That reminded him of another topic, one he had had trepidation bringing up, but had ultimately decided was minimally risky. It was time to manifest that judgement and break that barrier:

"Élise...do the Templars ever speak to you about...The Father of Understanding?"

The words felt funny exiting his mouth.

"No. It's a cryptic thing. Only the highest ranking members of our order are even allowed to understand what it truly means."

She seemed to take the question well, which was a relief. But unsurprisingly she provided no answer.

He figured there was no point prying any deeper.