Arno ran. He was good at that, after all. He ran as Paris blew past him in a blur. He stuck to the rooftops to avoid the patrons of the city below. He needed to be by himself, to think. After his interesting conversation with the Templar, Shay Cormac, he had to think about what kind of Assassin he was. He didn't even know if that was true anymore.

"Nothing is true," Arno halted for a moment breathing heavily, "Everything is permitted." He didn't even know what that meant anymore. Arno had closed his eyes tight, hoping that when he opened them, everything would make sense. As he slowly raised his eyelids, he was disappointed to see that everything was the same.

And he was still lost.

Finally feeling fatigue from the long and hard run, he collapsed on the top of an old church. The church itself was barely standing, its bricks worn away by years of exposure. There were holes in the building from riots and canon fire. Looking down at his makeshift seat, he realized he and the church were connected: they had both tried to do good, then the revolution destroyed them.

"Things were so much easier when the Assassins were good and the Templars were evil," Arno groaned, face dropping into his hands. He messaged his temples as he ran through his conversation with the Templar over and over again.

They're monsters, all of them.

But she wasn't.

But the rest were.

She wasn't like them, neither was her father.

But they still bore the name.

That doesn't mean they were the same.

Does it?

Arno sat there for a while, running through his own personal struggle in his mind when he heard light footsteps coming up behind him. He bristled at the fact that someone else was going to sneak up on him today, and he was not going to let that happen. He swiftly stood and drew his sword on the unknown assailant.

His eyes grew wide from embarrassment as he realized he was holding his sword to the neck of a fellow assassin, one he had actually completed many missions with. His tan hood covered his eyes, but his grin was clearly visible in the light. The large axe he favored lay secure on his back. He held his hands up in mock surrender as Arno quickly sheathed his weapon and turned away.

"A bit jumpy aren't we?" He said with a chuckle. Arno just sat back down on the roof and slumped forward, arms resting on his knees.

"What are you doing here, Antoine?" Arno was not unhappy to see his old camarade, but he had hoped he would be able to sort through this issue of conscious alone. Antoine dropped next to Arno on the decrepit church looking out at the city in front of them.

"You hadn't responded to the Council's letter," He said nonchalantly, "So, they sent me to see if it had gotten to you." Arno pulled a crumpled letter from his breast pocket and handed it to the Assassin without looking at him. Antoine took the ball of parchment and looked back at Arno, "Obviously you weren't thrilled with what they had to say?"

"No, not particularly," Arno said coldly, it was an understatement after all, "They kick me out of the Assassins, I do their work for them, then they have the gall to 'allow' me to return to the Brotherhood. No thanks, no apologies, just a letter to say they'll let me back in, and all because I cleaned up their mess!"

Arno looked at Antoine who had removed his hood and was staring at the other with a slight amount of shock on his face, "You have been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"

Arno dropped his head in his hands again and groaned, "Not just this," he began. Should he tell his camarade about the run in with the Templar? Unfortunately, either Arno is terrible at hiding his emotions, or Antoine is very good at reading them because he waits for Arno to elaborate.

"Do you think we are doing the right thing, Antoine?" Arno said after a long stretch of silence. Antoine looked at Arno curiously, "I mean as Assassins. Are we truly helping the people of France?"

"Of course!" He exclaimed with a wide grin,"In spite of this revolution, we gave the people their freedom from the Templars!" There was so much pride in Antoine's voice that Arno was jealous. To be so sure in one's self, in one's beliefs. He wanted that so badly.

"Can they handle it?" Arno quietly asked.

"Can who handle what?"

"The people," Arno replied, "can they handle that much freedom?" He sighed and dared not look at Antoine, but he knew the shocked look that painted his face. Quickly he shook it off and put a comforting hand on Arno's shoulder. Arno continued, "I mean, look at what has happened since Germaine? More death, more poverty, more destruction. Has nothing changed?" They sat in silence for a while, Antoine looking for the words to say while Arno waited for his response.

"When a master attempts to teach his student a lesson, he does not tell him the correct path. He gives him the tools necessary to make the best choice possible. Whether the student makes a mistake or takes the wrong path, he has still learned," Antoine gave a comforting squeeze to Arno's shoulder. Arno looked up at the Assassin's face. His features were softened, not at all what he had expected. He had expected his friend to scold him for asking such questions. He continued, "We gave the people the freedom to choose which path to take. It is up to them to learn from their mistakes."

"At what cost?" Arno asks, "I mean, should there be some form of control? To save people from themselves? To make this city safe?" After the words left his mouth he realized that he was repeating the same words the Templar had spoken to him.

"Arno," the other said sincerely, "What is the real problem here?"

"How can you be so sure that what the Assassins are doing is best?" Arno was envious of his friend in this respect, he needed to know. Antoine did not answer right away. He sat and thought for a good amount of time. He then looked back at Arno with a somber grin.

"I know what I am fighting for," He said simply. Arno sighed again. Antoine pat Arno on his shoulder, "I know that was not the answer you were looking for, but it's true. You are still caught up in the pain of the past. Eventually, you will have to start looking ahead. You can't cling to the past and continue living for the future. " Antoine finally stood and made to leave. Arno stared at his friend, shocked at how wise his words were. Before Antoine stepped off the roof of the church, he turned back, "Just remember Arno, to let go is not akin to forget." And with that he leapt off the roof, leaving Arno with his thoughts once again.

Hello world! This is back after literal YEARS. I forgot I had written this and kind of fell off the writing bandwagon. I had found this chapter written and another chapter outlined for this fic and figured I should post since you guys seemed to enjoy the first two chapters. Not sure when the 4th chapter will be up but enjoy this little tidbit in the meantime. As always, let me know if you want to see more.