It was likely a mistake to kill Guy-Marcel Rodet's auxiliaries first, a mistake Pierre or Uncle Augustin might not have allowed to be made. Rodet had grown paranoid, and as such he was now nearly invincible. Arno had attended two more of his practices since killing Boze and Vives, and neither had provided an opening. Instead, Rodet has lectured them about enemies of the people, chalking up the death of Vives to foreign spies.

Élise was out doing reconnaissance, likely to be as fruitless as the last time, leaving Arno with the mundane chores on this foggy February afternoon. In this case, he was purchasing a fish for supper. Denis suggested something big, so they could eat half for dinner and salt the rest for tomorrow. Food prices across the board were starting to pinch. There had even been a riot two weeks prior, and at the same seaside market he was heading towards.

Fish had been the main staple of his diet since coming to Marseille. The fish-monger he was heading to was a man Arno had purchased from several times. He was an unfortunate looking man, with a large, witch-like nose, balding at a seemingly early age, but friendly enough, and a good source of small talk.

Arno stopped abruptly as someone emptied a chamber pot three paces ahead of him. Thankfully, he was able to avoid a repeat of the incident which got him his beloved nickname. He stepped around the musty puddle, and could see the stand ahead. Despite their small talk, Arno had never asked the vendor for his name. Maybe he would this time.

Several fish were hanging behind him, small and colorful, but the one splayed in front was quite large, probably just what Denis wanted. If he recalled correctly, it was called -

A lanky, young man with dark hair snatched the fish from the front counter and started running!

Dorian bolted after him! Hopefully, he would get at least a discount for stopping the thief. Bystanders gasped and jumped out of their path. The bandit was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a trained Assassin's legs. He was closing in fast.

Arno pounced, making contact, and the thief fell hard upon the dirty, cobble-stone ground. He grimaced. Blue coated guards had closed in on the scene, muskets trained on the criminal. Arno simply raised himself from his catch and pried the fish from his clammy fingers. The poor young man was probably hungry, but Arno knew the necessity of order in civilization. He left the rest to the guards began walking his way back, onlookers seemingly impressed and a little rattled by the display.

A fifty-percent discount is what he expected. If he was an especially kind man, he would get the fish for free. Here came the moment of truth.

"Here, I got your fish back," Arno said, slapping the large, dead sea creature upon the counter where it had originally rested.

"Thank you, Arno! Please, take it for free!"

"Thank you!" He was a good man. "I never got your name by the way."

"René," the fish seller said. "René Saint-Lô. Let me just wrap that up for you." As he got his paper, he added. "By the way, have you heard the big news?"

"I don't believe so. What is it?"

"War's been declared. Austria and Prussia."

His previously high spirits sank.