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Aramis silently entered the church and took off his hat as well.

He looked around. He spotted the white-haired assassin somewhere in the front of the church. He walked towards her.

She seemed to be praying, something he found quite odd. He would not have thought she'd be the praying type.

He sat down next to her and assessed her face. Five scars distorted the skin around her left eye. Her face was cold and calm. She was definitely older than him or his friends.

'You're quite the quick one,' he said.

Emmanuelle opened one eye, glanced at him and closed it again.

A few moments later, she made a cross and let go of the pendant in her hand.

'It is not very polite to interrupt someone's prayer, you know,' she said.

'So you were actually praying,' Aramis said surprised. 'I apologise. I didn't think you were the praying type.'

'Oh, just because I am an assassin, I don't get to pray?' Emmanuelle asked offended.

'That's not what I meant,' Aramis said apologetically.

The assassin huffed annoyed.

'What were you praying for anyway?' Aramis then asked.

'Salvation.'

'Salvation?'

'Yes. Not for myself, of course. There is no salvation for the likes of me,' Emmanuelle said.

'For who then?' Aramis asked. He was truly curious now.

'My family. My parents, my two siblings, my brother-in-law and my lover.'

'Why?'

'They're all dead. They deserve salvation. They were good people,' the assassin said sadly.

'What happened to them?' Aramis asked.

'Why would I tell you?'

'You don't have to. I am simply curious.'

The white-haired woman sighed deeply.

'Fine…. I'll tell you…,' she said and kept silent for a moment. Then she began.

'I had a family once, long ago. A father, a mother, a brother and a sister. They were twins. When I was five and they were three, my parents died in a fire. My siblings and I were brought to an orphanage. The two of them were adopted soon after, but I wasn't. I was a devil's child… because of my white hair and purple-red eyes. I grew up there, grew into a thief, a mercenary, a murderer. I became so good at my job that I became the most dangerous assassin in France. My sister was mugged and raped when she was seventeen. She died of her injuries. My brother was killed when he tried to help her. My sister was engaged at the time. Her fiancé grew mad with grief and rode out to avenge her. They slaughtered him like a pig. I could never sleep soundly again after that.'

She kept silent for a moment. 'I met my lover about five years later. He was the first one to make my nightmares end. He took care of me, my Misha…. He became the person people had to contact if they wanted me to do a job for them. He was my everything.'

The assassin paused. She smiled at the memories.

'Sounds like you had a great life for an assassin,' Aramis said softly.

'Yeah, I had…' Emmanuelle smiled. 'Seven or eight years ago however, that life ended.'

'What happened?'

'One day I came home from a job. We had a little house in a small village far away from everything. I couldn't find him anywhere until I looked in the garden. There I found him, pinned to a tree, being tortured by some woman. She had long dark curls, a cold but beautiful face and a smug smile. She claimed she had all the information about me that she wanted; my real name, my weaknesses, my habits, and that she would use all that against me, to bring me down. Before I could do anything at all, she killed my Misha. I was broken, for a while at least. I didn't work for several weeks. I buried him, I mourned him, and I vowed I would avenge him.'

'That is a rather sad story…' Aramis said quietly.

Emmanuelle sighed. 'Perhaps…. She is the only reason I ever came to Paris again. I came to hunt her, to kill her. I will find her. It may take the rest of my life, but I will, and I will have my vengeance.'

'Of course you will,' the Musketeer said silently. 'I hope you do. However, right now, I am afraid I have orders to bring you to the Cardinal. Please come with me this time.'

'I won't. I am sorry, monsieur Aramis, but I tend not to believe anything until I have seen proof.'

'Anything we can do about that?' Aramis asked hopefully.

'Actually it's rather simple,' Emmanuelle said and smiled. 'Bring me proof. Get the Cardinal to write me a note, with his personal signature and his personal seal. And I want the guarantee that I can walk in and out of the palace without being arrested or killed. You think you can do that?'

Aramis sighed relieved. He nodded. 'That should not be a problem.'

'Good,' the assassin said, stood up and picked up her hat.

'You're leaving again?' Aramis asked. 'You know my friends have the exits covered, right?'

'All of them? I don't think so,' Emmanuelle said with a smile. 'Cathedrals are known for their many exits, secret and non-secret. I have been here many times. I know them all.'

Aramis sighed.

'Give that note to the old man at the tavern,' Emmanuelle continued. 'He'll pass it on to me. Good afternoon, monsieur Aramis.'

The Musketeer nodded. He looked up at the famous rose window for a moment.

When he looked back at the assassin, she had disappeared. Again. He sighed and stood up.

Then he left the cathedral and joined his friends.

'Where is she?' Athos asked.

'She managed to elude me again,' Aramis said with a sigh. 'However, she did tell me how to get her to the Cardinal.'

'Did that need to take so long?' Porthos asked amazed.

'No, but we talked about her life,' Aramis said. 'I found her praying and asked her why. She then told me how she had become an assassin. Quite a heart-breaking story actually. And then she told me how we can get her to Cardinal Richelieu.'

'Okay, how?' D'Artagnan asked.

'She will only believe us if we have proof. So, we have to get back to Richelieu and ask him to write a note, to sign it with his personal signature and to seal it with his personal seal. And she wants the guarantee that she can walk in and out of the palace without being arrested or killed.'

'That should not be a problem,' Athos said.

The Musketeer smiled agreeing and returned to the palace.