I can go on all day about how much I hate writing action, but I'll spare you. I do the best I can and if it wasn't necessary to the plot/story, I would not write it. So, if this chapter seems not up to par with my usual stuff, well, it's the same old crap. Action is not my strong point.
Also, want to point out I have done a crap ton of research for this story and I do not care if no one reads it, I am writing it for the simple fact that I love the franchise and history. I also love that people do read this and I hope they do find enjoyment in the story and it gives them an escape from all the crap going on in the world right now. That is the purpose of this story really.
"I don't like how quiet it is." A guard said rubbed his hands together feeling the chill in the air as he stood next to his fellow guard. The stillness of the night would normally not be an issue, but there was a strange feeling that crept up from the shadows surrounding him. He did not know what it was exactly, but it was unnerving.
"You worry too much, Renee." The older man said slapping a hand on Renee's back with an encouraging smile. "Just think, a few more hours and we can go warm ourselves with a nice bottle of brandy." He moved the lantern he held in his hand to see the immediate area they were in. "See, nothing to worry about." With a smile on his face he unknowingly had illuminated the face of the man hiding in the shadows a few feet away.
"Wait! What was that?" The young guard's voice rose in fright as the older man swung the lantern back again to see what Renee had seen, but there was nothing there. "I thought I saw a face."
"How much sleep did you get last night?" The older man asked before something moved out the corner of his eye and he paused to look around him. The sound of a body hitting the ground on the other side of the road made him swing around in order to see what was going on. It was too late. Before he could realize what was going on, his light came across Renee who was holding his throat as blood dripped down his hands and his strangled gasps alerted the older man to something else entirely. "Get back Unholy Demon!" Some dark figure rose up before him and he dropped the lantern just as he felt a drop of blood land on his other hand.
Arno watched as the man in front of him had not yet realized his life was draining out of the deep gash across his jugular. There in that suspenseful moment shrouded by darkness yet illuminated by the dying light of the lantern at his feet, Arno could see the questions in the man's dark grey eyes. There was no time to feel guilty though as there was more to do, so Arno simply walked away as the man fell lifelessly to the ground in a puddle of his own blood. As soon as he was in the clear, Arno crouched as he made his way behind the next group of guards with Raphael doing the same on the other side of the road.
The two guards in front of the younger assassin were speaking to one another about their wives back home in Paris. Arno almost felt a little sympathy for them, but then again, they chose to help a madman destroy everything they held dear. He did not hesitate to quickly end their lives with next to no regret on doing so. The moment they knew they were dead it was too late before Arno had followed Raphael into the trees that lined the road to hide again. Seconds later a gunshot was heard in the direction they had left Francois and Jean.
"That isn't going to draw any attention." Arno said sarcastically while taking cover against the thick trunk of an oak tree.
"Leave it to Francois to cause panic." The other assassin said from across the narrow road as another shot went off. "Two men on the bank." He moved to look around the tree. "Two men going to the bank to investigate."
Arno looked up at the entwined branches of the trees then moved to peak around the trunk. All the trees had been planted in a line to where their branches touched each other forming what he could only guess as a possible path in. He did not think twice before climbing up the what he could only assume was a hundred-year-old oak and leaving Raphael on the ground to deal with the guards. Raphael looked up at the younger man who had become almost invisible up in the bows of the trees.
"Frimer." The Spaniard said to himself before moving silently on the ground to where the two men were crossing the road ahead of him and quickly dispatched them with the use of the Phantom blade.
From his vantage point in the trees, Arno could easily see how far he needed to go before reaching the gate that surrounded the fortress. He could also see the number of guards posted at the gates as well. He was underwhelmed at the number of men standing at the open cast iron gates having expected at least six, but there were only two men with rifles in their hands. Both of them likely to shoot anyone they saw that was not wearing what they were and both men were not likely to aim very well in the dark. At least the two men posed little to no challenge for him and that was the positive side of this endeavor.
He eased his way through the branches to where they hovered over the gate and stayed perfectly still long enough to see Raphael merge with the shadows against the wall. Arno waited for his friend to make a move before dropping out of the trees onto the man directly under him and with the help of gravity, he managed to dispatch the guard with ease. Raphael had done the same, only he had swept the other guard's feet out from under him and went for the man's throat which rendered him silent forever. The assassins did not waste any time in taking cover on each side of the gate, keeping quiet as they did so.
Arno managed to peak over the wall to count the number of men that were surrounding the building ahead. He slowly crouched down after counting and held up nine fingers to Raphael and then pointed to the building before holding up four. The Spaniard nodded as he pointed to the roof signaling for Arno to cover him as he took on the men within the walls. The younger assassin breathed in before following Raphael into the compound. His first thought was to get onto the roof of the building as quickly as possible, but there were obstacles in the way, and he would likely be seen if he went right to it. The men were still unloading the wagon at the large door at the front of the warehouse which made the situation a little difficult because there was no cover for either assassin between the wall and the building.
The next step was getting into the building without being noticed and thankfully the only light available was lantern which only allowed for immediate lighting of space. Arno quickly went for the nearest guard after seeing his path to the building clearly while his assassin brother worked to gain entry as well. A quick slice to the jugular at a sprint did not give the man a chance to react as the young assassin's blade silenced him.
"Nice of them to leave a window open for my convenience." He said as he climbed up the trellis on the side of the old fortress as he heard bodies dropping from the roof. Once he reached the window, he silently dropped in to keep out of sight. Surprisingly, there were no men inside, only barrels and barrels of gunpowder stacked up along the walls. There was enough to blow the palace in Versailles to nothing, but there had to be a darker intent behind it.
"Load a boat for Paris." The unmistakable voice of Denard Arceneaux said as he strode into view down below with papers in his hand. "I want this next shipment sent tonight." He spoke to the two men following behind him as Raphael watched from the opposite catwalk.
The two assassins looked to one another before dropping down from the catwalk, completely taking the mission into their own hands. The two men that were behind Arceneaux did not know what had happened to them, but clearly the man was not fazed by the intrusion as he held the paper up to his eye level and read the words. He was by all means an aristocrat, but only on the outside as he amassed his fortune from playing both sides of the Jacobin faction. He smelled, acted, talked, and walked like an aristocrat, but on the inside, he was just a low-class man from the gutters of Paris.
"I should learn to hire more competent men to guard my belongings." He was also a pragmatist. Everyone else was a peon to him, including those in the royal family. "Competent men cost a lot more than incompetent men." He said turning around to see the two assassins who stood there with stoic faces.
"You know what they say." Arno said with sarcasm dripping in his tone. "You get what you pay for." Both assassins walked forward and grabbed onto the lanky man in front of them before dragging him to the stack of gunpowder barrels.
"I could use men like you." Arceneaux grunted as Arno practically tossed him onto the barrels while Raphael picked up a roll of fuse. "Whatever they are paying you, I'll triple it!" The fake aristocrat said gulping as he saw the green clad assassin hold the fuse up with a smirk to show Arno.
"Oh, that will do nicely." He said taking the dowel from Raphael and began to unwind the fuse. "Hold still." The assassin started to wrap the fuse around the man's wrists.
A few minutes later after Arceneaux had been tied to the barrels and the fuse dragged out to the door where a half empty wagon sat, the two assassins admired their handy work. This was not the usual way of getting answers, however, with a man like Denard Arceneaux there had to be more at stake. Considering he was now holding onto a small barrel of gunpowder, the man looked absolutely terrified which was the opposite of what the assassins had expected of a man like him. A fanatic who was hellbent on destroying the monarchy, although who encouraged him to do so was yet to be revealed.
Arno looked at the papers he had pulled from Denard's hands and reading them carefully. Mentions of the Duke of Orleans where placed here and there, but the context of the letters did not seem to make sense as the Duke was clear he wanted nothing to do with any of Arceneaux's plans. He handed them over to Raphael who had just gagged their target with the wooden dowel that held the fuse. They did not get to speak when Francois walked in from outside with a rifle cradled in his arms.
"I can see you started without us, again." He looked displeased, but when he saw the man tied up to the gunpowder, he chuckled. "Is that your work Raphael?"
"Arno's actually." The Spaniard said looking at the papers that were handed to him. If the youngest assassin were in a different mood, he would have accepted the praise, but the odd feeling he had just did not sit right with him. Clearly the letters were having the same effect on Raphael if not a little more as he walked to Francois with a concerned look on his face. "You are not going to like what is in these letters, Mon amie. You might want to have a talk with your good friend the Duke of Orleans." He handed the letters to Francois as Jean came in to start loading the half empty wagon at the entrance. "Arno and I will go help Jean." Raphael put a hand on the older assassin's shoulder before leaving him alone to deal with the man tied up in front of him.
Francois looked up from the letters to the dainty man in front of him tied to a lot of gunpowder. He waited until Arno and Raphael were out of earshot before moving to sit on a barrel next to Denard as he looked helpless. The grey clad assassin sat his rifle down next to him, making sure that it was stable, so it did not fall and accidentally misfire. He reached over to take the wooden dowel out of the lanky man's mouth and set it down next to him. There was a small dusting of black powder on the fine blue silk of Denard's dinner coat and in his grey wig, which made the assassin smile.
"I've seen you before." Denard said looking up at Francois with familiarity in his green eyes. "You were at Palais-Royal when the Duke returned from exile." Francois sighed before getting down to business.
"Why I was there is no consequence to you." He preferred to keep his private life exactly what it was; private. Just like most of the Assassins did. "What is of consequence is who you were going to install on the throne of France after the gunpowder did all the work?" The answer was obvious as there were very few people in line for the throne besides the Premier Prince du Sang. Louis-Phillipe II, Duke of Orleans was also not very supportive of the current king and had been suspected of encouraging the Women's March on Versailles.
"There is only one choice." The devious smirk that crossed Denard's face gave Francois the answer he needed before he picked the dowel up and shoved it back into the man's mouth with an angry feeling in his gut. He was getting tired of cleaning up the Duke's messes.
After filling the two wagons with now stolen gunpowder barrels, the four assassins looked on the building for the final time before Francois put a torch to the fuse on the ground. This would give them enough time to get out of the gate and at least to the bridge before the explosion went off. As soon as the fuse was lit, Jean and Raphael put the horses into a gallop as Francois was barely able to jump into the second cart. It would not be long after the explosion that the authorities were going to be investigating the entire event. Luckily, Arceneaux could no longer be a problem as he would likely be nothing but ash when the smoke cleared.
"To think I almost missed that crate of bourbon sitting there in the corner." Jean held up a bottle in the air as he galloped the horses across the bridge as the building blew causing all four men to turn around sharply and look at the brilliant fireball rising above the tree line. "Mon Dieu!" The axe man said as the shockwave hit him nearly knocking the air out of his lungs.
"Perfect." Francois said from his position next to Raphael on the bench. "I couldn't have pictured a better ending to this mission." Arno looked back at the oldest assassin and saw the satisfied expression on his face. He had a feeling it would be a while before the four of them were going to be doing a mission together again, but for now he was going to savor the enjoyment.
Evangeline looked up at the clock on the mantle above the fire in the dining room while she polished the pewter candle holders in front of her. It was nearing two-thirty in the morning, but she could not sleep. Not after the nightmare that drove her to stray from her bed at night and walk down the street to the cafe, which was becoming a habit lately. She never went anywhere else in the building because she knew that if Arno saw her there, he would likely send her home, but she was defiant. Keeping herself busy allowed her not to think about the dreams she had of the past and if polishing pewter candle holders did just that, then so be it.
The moment she got out of bed, she did not bother to wrap up her long locks or put on a corset. Instead she put on her dressing robe and quietly left her mother's home across the street and past Monsieur Mirabeau's home without being seen. This time of night the streets were mostly empty except for officers doing their rounds on the island. The moment she stepped into the dining room she lit the fire and grabbed the candle holders throughout the cafe and sat down to polish them.
She had been so focused on her thoughts that she had missed the commotion going on in the courtyard outside and it was not until she heard voices that she noticed. She recognized the voices immediately and did not bother to get up to investigate on what kind of trouble the four assassins could be getting up to. As long as they did not notice she was inside the building, she was going to let them continue doing what they were, and she was going to continue polishing pewter. As soon as she heard the door open to the foyer she knew that Arno had stepped inside and the fact that she heard his footsteps walking towards the wine rack told her that he was going to notice her there.
"What are you doing here?" She heard his voice say from the door but did not bother to look up from her polishing.
"I couldn't sleep." She told him and she could smell him from where he stood in the doorway. The distinct smell of black powder and musk that she had smelt on her father's coat when he came in from his own missions and then a much darker memory.
"Did you walk here?" Arno asked the most redundant question she had ever heard him utter from his mouth and looked at him with sarcasm. "Before you answer that in the way I know you will, please keep in mind I had a decent amount of bourbon on the way home and I am not entirely sure if I am capable of comprehending anything you say." He held up a hand.
"You seem capable of knowing what comprehension is at the moment, so I will say that you aren't entirely drunk yet." Eva said before adding another insult his way. "Maybe you should drink some more since that is the only thing you seem capable of at the moment as well."
"Do you ever shut up?" He was pretty sure he had a headache coming on and coupled with the explosion nearly deafening him earlier, he knew it was a headache. "Everything I say to you is thrown back into my face and it's irritating." He pinched the bridge of his nose. In that moment Arno was positive he was looking at a woman who was ready to kill him with the candle holder in her hand. He had to admit there were worse ways of dying and the dark-haired woman in front of him was not one of them.
"Have you ever considered simply not talking to me?" She asked him with the most unfazed look he had ever seen. What had happened to her to become such a cold person? Arno had no idea, but he was sure there was no place on Earth that could withstand her freezing heart. He looked down at the bottle in his hand and realized he had something in common with her.
"Go home, Evangeline." He did not want it to escalate further before he said something that would haunt him. "Or stay here." Arno did not care anymore because he had his own problems stirring inside that alcohol normally brought out. "I don't care." He said before walking away, leaving Eva there to continue polishing.
Once he was gone, she set the candle holder down and sat there in silence for a moment. Other people did this to her. Other people turned her into an untrusting, cold, and unfriendly woman. She thought it was better to protect herself from them by keeping them away, but lately she had started questioning everything. Seeing Claire so happy with who she was, and Fleur's innocence made her question letting anyone in. Claire was so eager to love because she knew who she was and what she stood for. She defended it with everything she had, but here was Eva not willing to trust anyone besides Raphael and her mother.
She stopped thinking about it for the moment and reflected on Arno's words. He treated her differently. He was in between wanting to be her friend and at the same time her enemy, which confused her sometimes. He was not interested in her past like most people were, maybe it was because he had his own, he would rather not talk about. She did not like him because he challenged her at every word or instance, and she was not used to that sort of resistance. Even though he spoke the truth, it hurt harder than the sugar coating that most people did around her. Arno was not afraid of hurting her, that was for sure.
Standing up she left the candle holders on the table before walking out of the dining room with her robe wrapped around her. Taking up a lit candle from the table beside the door in the hall, she walked towards the door that lead out to the courtyard to where an empty cart sat by the storehouse. Curious she walked up to it and looked in it for any sign of what could have been in the wagon to begin with. The distinct smell of gunpowder had her scrunching her nose as she saw the minimal traces of the black substance on the boards of the cart. The powder was all over the ground in that area and she was able to make out a trail going to the door to the storehouse that glowed in gold.
She put the candle down on the back of the wagon before following the trail to the door and pushing it open. Eva was not surprised at all to see the barrels of gunpowder lining the walls and neatly stacked in the room she was standing in. If anything, she was angry that the four assassins believed this was the best place to store sixty barrels of gunpowder without consequences. She was at a crossroads with herself that moment. Eva could either keep it to herself, or she could go to Monsieur Mirabeau and tell him about her discovery.
