"Well," Martin said with an amused huff. "All this should send a message to the royalists."
"The Bastille in the hands of the people, a battalion of gardes françaises has switched sides, I suspect King Louis is shaking in his boots right now," the former Assassin said.
"Yes, a message to the royalists. That reminds me, Élise, I have one more task for you before you retire for today. Jacques de Flesselles, the provost of the merchants. He agreed to help this revolt. He broke his promise. He needs to be punished."
"You mean killed," Élise said coldly, more of a statement than a question.
"Yes. He agreed to provide the location of weapon stores. He lied to the us."
"Sounds like as good a reason as any to want a man dead. Do you know his present location?"
"Start at the Hôtel de Ville. I am going to return to the chateau and inform Timothee of the good news."
"It will be my honor, Grand Master. It is great to finally make such a difference."
She and the other three parted ways.
For so long, Élise had begged her Assassin masters to use their powers of deathcraft to fight for the people of France, but they had rebuked her again and again, told her it was not their war. So she had left them for the Templars, and the Templars had manifested their good will with the strength of a thousand fireworks this day.
She had even seen the infamous Apple of Eden in action. Grand Master François had used it, but not to enslave mankind, simply to give the powers that were a small push in favor of the people.
Was that worse than the Assassin method of warding off tyranny and war, ending lives?
She could feel her decision to betray vindicated in full. It had hurt to leave her family, but she had shed her shackles, shed the veil the Assassins had put over her eyes, and become a flaming sword for justice.
The gritty city streets were now crisp with the air of revolution. She strutted to the Hôtel de Ville with a swagger.