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When they stepped outside, the old man looked up for a second, to return to his wine immediately after. He did not want to have anything to do with it.
The Musketeers walked past Emmanuelle and turned around to face her.
'So how are we going to solve this?' Athos asked.
'Oh, you'll see,' the assassin said calmly.
'See what?'
Emmanuelle said nothing and smiled.
'So who sent you?' she then asked.
'Cardinal Richelieu,' Aramis said. 'He wants to employ you.'
'The Cardinal wants to employ me?' Emmanuelle asked. 'Forgive me, but I am not inclined to believe you for a second. That man wants my head. On a plate.'
'Well, he changed his mind.'
'Got anything to proof that?'
'No,' Athos said. 'But we do not tend to lie to ladies. Whether or not they dress like one.'
'Why would you think that I am a lady?'
'The way you talk when you are not in disguise,' Athos said. 'And your accent.'
'My accent?' Emmanuelle asked, raising an eyebrow.
'It is familiar somehow.'
'Well, it's my accent. Unless you are from the same province as I am, I have no idea how you would be familiar with this accent.'
Athos said nothing.
'So are you?'
'I don't know where you are from,' Athos said. 'We don't know anything about you.'
'That's true…. So what are you? A Count? A Baron?' Emmanuelle asked calmly.
'I'm afraid that is none of your business,' Athos said.
'Oh, right. Of course not. Apologies.'
'There he is!' a man suddenly cried out.
Emmanuelle looked at him and smiled almost invisibly. The man was standing at the other end of the street. Five or six men quickly gathered behind him.
'That's the man that killed my brother! Get him!' the same man cried.
They charged at her, their swords drawn.
'Not a step closer,' Athos said. 'You are not taking this man anywhere.'
'And why is that?' the man asked angrily.
'Because the Cardinal's wishes are of greater importance than yours. Your vengeance shall have to wait until His Eminence is done with this man,' the Musketeer said calmly.
'I ain't gonna let you walk off with that murderer,' the man snapped.
He charged at Athos, furious, and possibly drunk. Athos simply leaned to one side. The man tripped and nearly fell. His friends immediately charged at Athos as well.
Aramis and Porthos drew their swords and went to help him.
'Keep an eye on our friend here,' Aramis told D'Artagnan.
'Why me?'
'Because you're the youngest,' Aramis smiled. 'Now keep an eye on 'him'.'
D'Artagnan sighed. 'Fine….'
Emmanuelle smiled. She watched the three Musketeers fight the six, seven men at once. Impressed by their skill, she huff amused.
She continued to keep an eye on D'Artagnan as well though. He had trouble focusing on her.
He really wanted to join the fight.
Emmanuelle smiled and winked at him.
Only for a few seconds, the young man looked away, at the fight.
Immediately, Emmanuelle disappeared behind the old man. She pulled a dagger out of her boot and held it against Jean-Luc's back.
'That point you feel in your back is a poisoned dagger,' she hissed. 'One scratch and you're history. So keep quiet.'
The old man trembled slightly, but did not make a sound.
'When they realise I'm gone, they will ask you where I went. Point in the wrong direction. One hint at my real location and you are dead. Now pretend that I am not here.'
Jean-Luc exhaled slowly.
D'Artagnan looked back at where the assassin had been standing and turned pale instantly.
'Guys! Guys, stop!' he shouted. 'He's gone!'
The men immediately stopped fighting.
'What happened to 'keep an eye on him'?' Aramis asked angered.
'I'm sorry; I only looked away for a second. He can't have gone far,' D'Artagnan said unhappily.
'You, old man,' Athos said to Jean-Luc. 'Did you see where he went?'
'Y-yes…' the old man said a bit startled and pointed to the left street. 'H-he went that way….'
'Okay, let's go,' Porthos said and ran into that street, followed by the other Musketeers.
The angry man, whose brother apparently had been murdered, followed them with his friends.
'They're gone,' Jean-Luc said softly.
'Good,' Emmanuelle said and stood up.
She then walked in the complete opposite direction.
'Wait, are you not done with me yet?' the old man called after her.
'You wish. They are still after me, old man. Just stay there.'
The Nameless Assassin disappeared into the maze of streets called Paris.
She knew where she wanted to go.
At this moment, it would be the only place safe in all of Paris.
When she crossed the bridge to the Ile de la Cité and looked up at the magnificent cathedral in front of her, she smiled.
It had been too long.
She took off her head and entered the church.
Aramis watched her through his spyglass from across the bridge.
'Gotcha…' he muttered.
He returned to the other Musketeers.
'Any luck?' D'Artagnan asked.
Porthos shook his head.
'Nothing,' Athos grumbled.
'Me neither,' the young man sighed.
'Gentlemen,' Aramis smiled. 'I have found our lovely lady.'
'Where is she?' Athos asked.
'Notre Dame.'
'What is she doing there?'
'I don't know. But I'll go in to find her and talk to her,' Aramis said. 'You three shall keep an eye on the exits.'
'Why are you going to talk to her?' D'Artagnan asked.
'With all due respect, my young friend,' Aramis said. 'I believe I have the most people-skills of the four of us. And the lady seems to be… moody, to put it nicely.'
Athos nodded. 'Sounds good. Let's do it.'
'Yes, let's,' Porthos agreed.
The four Musketeers crossed the same bridge the assassin had crossed earlier on.
In the meantime, Emmanuelle walked to a statue of the Virgin Mary and lit a few candles.
'Father, mother, brother, sister, in-law, lover,' she muttered, one name per candle.
She then made a small cross while mumbling the usual prayer that went with that, and dropped a few coins in the collection box.
'Thank you, my child,' a priest said.
Emmanuelle looked up and smiled briefly.
'Do you wish to confess, my child?' the elderly man asked.
'Do you have all day, Father?' the assassin asked him.
'Is it that bad?' the priest asked.
'I'm afraid so, Father. Don't waste your time with me. There is no salvation for my kind anyway.'
'My dear, I believe everyone can be saved.'
'Not me, Father, not me.'
'Then for whom did you light those candles?' the priest asked curiously.
'My family. They all died long ago. They were good people, every single one of them. They deserve salvation,' Emmanuelle said softly.
'Ah, I see,' the priest said and smiled. 'God bless you anyway, my dear.'
The assassin smiled. 'God bless you too, Father.'
The priest smiled again and walked the other way.
She then walked to the front of the church and sat down in a pew. She laid her hat down next to her and pulled the cross out from under her shirt. Then she kneeled down, rested her elbows on the back of the pew in front of her, her hands folded around the cross.
She looked up to the rose window for a moment, sighed deeply and closed her eyes.
Then she began her prayer.
A/N: the Ile de la Cité is one of the two small islands in the Seine, the river that flows through Paris. The Notre-Dame, famous for its rose window, is located there.
