A/N: Lafayette, Commander and Chief of the National Guard, is a character I should have built up earlier in this story. I hate to go back and change my work, but I added mentions of him in earlier chapters before releasing this one. Unless you started reading this story very recently, I'm aware bringing him in now might seem a bit jarring. I admit I feel this story has in large part been sloppily written, because I was just eager to get back into writing, where as all my previous stories I stewed over for many months before beginning.
Also, I changed Guy-Marcel's real-name reveal. Originally it was Frédéric Rouille, an allusion to the original Assassin's Creed: Unity, as I figured it feels good to readers to read allusions to the original even in reboots. But now, as I'm approaching the September Massacres, I'm thinking I want to keep Rouille's assassination sequence to make this important moment in French history feel more ingrained in the story. So now Guy-Marcels' real name is/was Frédéric Pons.
Even though she and Arno had escaped hours ago, she could still feel the excitement of today's working lingering in her system. She read over the letter one last time:
Monsieur Pons,
I, our lawyer friend, and Brother Spartacus would all like to congratulate you on all you've accomplished. It sounds as though you've established an impressive militia, a perfect way to counter-act the power of the king and conservative aristocrats. I know it has not been easy, and has cost our cause dear friends, at the hands of Assassins or royalists or Templar loyalists we may never know. Vives and Boze will be honored as martyrs in the annals of our illuminated order.
Obviously you know Prussia and Austria have declared war on our country, but Marshal Rochambeau has already taken the offensive into the Austrian Netherlands. Once we are confident we have nothing to worry about on France's southern flank, I will give the order to bring your Fédérés to Paris. The biggest menaces in the National Guard will not cause you any problems. Dillon has been dealt with. Lafayette should be dead or disgraced by the time you arrive, we will see to that. With two thorns in our side removed, your men will have the honor of dealing the Ancien Régime its killing blow. As you'll see, I've included a map of the Tuileries Palace with this letter.
May the Father of Understanding Guide You
-S
This was such juicy information. Denis would be very proud. Elise was waiting outside of the room that had become his office. He was attending to some other work while she waited outside.
"Bien," Denis said from behind his closed door. "I'm done now. Come in and show me what you wanted to show me, Elise."
She eagerly entered. He already knew about their success with Rodet, but had insisted on finishing up his paper work before looking at any intelligence she had recovered.
She handed him the letter. He began to read. She watched his eyes scan to and fro. Tuileries, Lafayette, it was all so incriminating, and seemed to be right out of the mouth of Servan!
He put the letter down and looked at the map.
"Interesting," Denis said. It was a more subdued reaction than she expected.
"I'm guessing their 'little lawyer friend' is Maximillien."
"Of course. And 'S' is Servan. That's obvious." He paused for a second. "What's not obvious is where we go from here."
That was a strange comment.
"What do you mean?"
"Do we return to Paris now, or wait for the Fédérés to be called over?"
"Why wait? We've killed Rodet, that's why we came here to begin with. Unless you plan to thin the ranks of the Fédérés further -"
"I want to take advantage of Arno's position of trust in the Fédérés, but I don't want to leave him here alone either."
That was, unfortunately, a fair point, but it hit her like a punch in the gut. It hurt to be reminded of who Arno Dorian really was, especially after all these months.
She looked down solemnly, and spoke without looking back up:
"To be fair, Monsieur, we haven't been keeping him on a very tight leash. He's had plenty of opportunities to run back to his people, where ever they are."
"I know but...it's not the same. Not by a long shot. Here he knows an extended absence would raise our suspicions. He knows we would try to track him down if he deserted. If we leave for Paris..."
This talk hurt her.
"I'll need to think on this. Long and hard. I'll have this document mailed to Paris at once, but whether we return is another matter."
"Yes, Monsieur," she said quietly, and turned to leave.
As she exited, she felt like a hurt little girl. She walked back down the stairs, to the main chamber, to take a seat on the nearer couch.
A year they had worked together, from one spring to the next. The first few months had been hostility or chilly indifference. After that, it had been intentional distance with wisps of friendship.
She remembered the day they had met. She had run away, fearing her life as killer and Templar was incompatible with a man. Now it turned out they were kindred spirits in one regard, but diametrically opposed in another.
She could feel a sharp lump forming in her throat. What a tangled mess her life had become. She had been a turbulent spirit, never complicit with the path set before her: first she had rejected her womanhood, then her place in the Assassin Order. Had she seen the end of such things? Would she swerve from another path put before her.
She thought back to Normandy. What would she say to her father and sister now?