Chrétien Lafrenière touched a hand to his bleeding chest, sighing, before looking up at the hooded assassin looming over him."So, this is how it ends," he murmured. "I suppose this is my penitence... divine retribution for my sins."

Arno's eyes narrowed. "Call it whatever you like," he sneered. "But I want answers. Sivert. Le Roi des Thunes. Why enlist them? Why orchestrate the death of Monsieur De la Serre?!"

Lafrenière was speechless for a brief moment, before bursting into a bitter laugh. "Oh you foolish child," he chuckled. "Grandmaster De la Serre was a luminary, and a true friend. We did not always see eye to eye—I warned him against trusting that fop, Mirabeau—but I would have happily laid down my life for him, had he given the word. What reason would I have to kill him?"

"Power, no doubt?" Arno retorted, but with a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Isn't that what you Templars are all about, amassing power over others, even if it means stabbing those who trust you most in the back?"

"Power is nothing without structure," Lafrenière replied evenly, like a teacher educating a student. "And since the Grandmaster's death, the structure of power has been crumbling in France. The Jacobins, the Parisian mob... they would burn down the world if it meant they could feel an ounce of strength for a few brief moments. This chaos is antithetical to everything the Templars stand for." He closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yet, I am still guilty in Grandmaster De la Serre's death. I learned of the plot against him, but instead of speaking with him face to face at Versailles, I trusted in a letter to share my words for me. I should have never left his side..."

Arno's eyes widened in realization. The letter flashed through his mind, the signature at the end: "-L"

"It seems..." he began, "that we are both responsible for what happened that night." Arno took a deep breath. "If you are the friend of Monsieur De la Serre that you claim to be, help me make things right. Help me avenge him."

"I do not know their false grandmaster's name," Lafrenière began, "but I know where the traitors are. Hôtel de Beauvais. The Jacobin Club."

Arno bowed his head. "I will finish what you started, monsieur. I give you my word."

"The word of an Assassin, to avenge a Templar?" Lafrenière chuckled. "Perhaps... the Grandmaster was right. Perhaps... there can be peace... after all."

The old man's breathing stilled, a small smile upon his face. Arno gently closed Lafrenière's eyes, murmuring, "May you find the redemption we both seek. Repose en paix." He slowly stood up from Lafrenière's body, and began to make his way out of the graveyard.