A/N: This chapter made me realize I might have been using the word "Madame" wrong in previous chapters. The English "Madam" and French "Madame" have two different meanings. I'm going to go back and edit that.

Charlotte. Élise always thought that was a pretty name, but what did it represent now? Peace was beautiful, but she would have to face her past. Maybe no one she knew closely was there, but the new arrivals were all from the Normandy enclave. Arno had been different, she had to face him as a traitor, but not as a former comrade, as he had not been from Normandy. Neither was Charlotte Gouze, but those who had come down to give her teeth were.

A cold autumn breeze blew past her, cold like the death she had bestowed upon Claude, Marie, Jean-Pierre, Louise, Simon-Jacques, and Jules.

She was coming upon the building. It was a very large establishment, a place of culture, a strange place for an Assassin hideout. It reminded her of the Sorbonne in its construction, with a core that was almost a circular tower with a domed roof. It was very different from the dingy establishment her Normandy envoy had used. It was three floors, with hanging gardens and railed balconies all over.

She wanted to use the main entrance, it felt the least threatening. She believed the front of the establishment was around the next corner.

Her flesh nearly tingled with anticipation. To think of the gazes of Normandy being upon her again. Her legacy was soaked in the blood of her former family.

And around the corner she went. The main entrance was quite apparent: Despite the building's mainly stone construction, there was a large portion of the facade made of red wood. It had a sign above it, the masks of joy and despair that symbolized drama, and an awning. It was surrounded by a slightly raised wooden porch upon which guests were dining.

Her gut was painful and tense. She went up the wooden steps, towards the crimson portal. The people dining merrily on the porch had no idea of her inner anguish. Then she entered the Café Théâtre.

She almost bumped into someone.

They caught each other's eyes. Benoît-Jacques.

"Élise, I...you..."

"Benoit...please...please fetch me Mlle Gouze."

"Yes...I...you just...right away, Élise! Right away!"

He headed towards the back. This had begun worse than she had expected. It was he, the man she had not saved, who had also led her here through her manipulation, who was her first encounter.

She surveyed the surroundings. On the stage, a man and a woman sat on wooden chairs, having a debate. Guests sat at tables in a slightly depressed section of floor, which was tiled in a checkered design, surrounded by pillared wooden railings for the slightly elevated walkway at the periphery. The rails and their columns were painted red, with yellow lines at the architectural joints. The carpet laid upon the walkway bore a similar pattern.

It must have cost a fortune to build such a place, but also-

"Mademoiselle de la Caen."

She almost jumped at the soft female voice. She turned to her left.

Charlotte Gouze? The woman had dark brown hair, a poofy green dress and a fancy feathered hat. She looked to be in her mid to late thirties. Her expression looked to be a strange mix of anguish, confusion, and disbelief.

"Élise..." she said, in a subdued, almost disbelieving tone. " Élise-Emma de la Caen. Before my eyes."

"Yes," Élise said uneasily. "And you are...Mlle Gouze?"

"Oui. Benoît said you were still alive. Most thought you were dead. Others had said you were working with the Templars. And now you're here."

"Yes. It's...it's... Both are true. I am...alive, and I am a Templar."

The words felt like cold stones in her mouth. The woman put her hand on her sternum.

"But I come offering peace." She extended her hand with the papers. "The Templars are at war ourselves, with an offshoot, I mean: A civil war, you might say. We have been for some time. They call themselves the Illuminati. Robespierre pledged allegiance to their cause, as did Jean-Paul Marat. They orchestrated the prison massacres and the recent coup." As Timothee had instructed, she said nothing of the Apple.

Charlotte stood, frozen. The news seemed overwhelming. She then cautiously extended her hand to accept the papers.

She looked down at them, glanced back at Élise, then began reading, glancing back up at Élise once every ten or so seconds.

"I...Why did you...how can I..."

"We found you here, Mademoiselle. If...if we wanted to eliminate you...We would...we wouldn't have come offering peace, announcing our presence and...Please, accept this offer. You have nothing to lose. Neither do we."

She glanced back down at the papers, then looked back at Élise.

There was a few seconds of thick, painful silence.

"Oui...oui. I...merci, Mademoiselle de la Caen," she began stepping backwards. "Now please, go!"

She began walking away, fast, disappearing into the crowd.

Élise stood, not totally sure what to make of what had transpired. Yet in reflection it was the best outcome she could have reasonably expected. She decided to abide Charlotte Gouze's wishes, and turned towards the door. The searing encounter with her past was over. She only hoped it was fruitful.