Knocking. She was not in her usual bed, and felt some momentary confusion before the events of yesterday came back to her.
"Élise! Rise at once, opportunity presents itself!"
It was Robespierre. She liked him even less now.
Through her window, Élise could see it was still dark outside. Of course, during October, that did not mean much.
She did not bother responding, not feeling courteous, but after a few seconds of staring pointlessly at the nightstand, she rolled back onto her feet and grabbed her key. The floor boards creaked as she headed for the door.
She inserted the key and unlocked the door.
The look on his face told her an entire sleepless night had passed since their last encounter. She could at least credit him with keeping busy.
"What is it, Monsieur?"
"That will have to wait. Follow me, and let's be hasty!"
They exited the inn, Jowls-Man glaring at her.
The air was cold and humid, but no longer raining. The crowd was still copious. A few torches were lit among them to counter the darkness, though Élise's instinct told her the sun would rise in an hour or two.
They began weaving through the sea, their pace just beneath a run. Élise was almost worried she would lose Robespierre amongst the ragged women.
They must have been cold, tired, and hungry standing out for so long. Robespierre looked like he had been up the entire night as well, although he had likely spent some of that time in doors.
But where was he taking her? They seemed to heading towards some side flank of the palace, at a lower altitude than the main courtyard. What could he want to show her?
Their destination appeared to be a second gate. Gilded and fancy, but much smaller than that at the main entrance.
"Splendid! Still no guards!"
There were, indeed, no guards. On the other side was a path lined with potted trees, the gardens of the lower level, and a grand, stone staircase.
"You're asking me to infiltrate the palace?" Élise asked incredulously.
"And kill the royal couple," he added.
Her jaw dropped.
"We must cease the opportunity while it presents itself!" he commanded. "Besides, you won't work alone. Open these gates, and a thousands like-minded women and men will flood the palace grounds."
She looked back towards the innocuous little gate, left unguarded by mere accident, now supposed to be the doom of the royal couple.
Killing the King was one thing, he had the power, but Marie Antoinette? She was just a voice. Although if King Louis were to expire, would she take his place? Élise had assumed women could not become regents in France, though she never actually knew the law.
She looked back towards Robespierre, but he was gone. She was left with only his orders.
She saw opportunities other women did not. With her spider-like abilities, she saw just where to put her hands and feet to make it over the gate, from there she could unlock it for the others.
It was still an intimidating task.
But she was given orders, there was nothing to wait for. This is the path she had chosen, the path of a warrior.
She walked out of the front of the crowd, distinguishing herself, and began exercising her craft, climbing up using the subtle foot and handholds of the architecture. She listened to the crowd behind her, but couldn't make out anything distinct.
Making it to the top, she lept and landed in royal territory, and turned her attention straight to the gate. Opening this would break a dam, and change French history.
She unlatched the locking mechanism, with a memorable click and there was a roar from the crowd. She caught a glimpse of a young blonde woman in a kerchief before turning to begin forward. She was a soldier, leading a charge. Her cavalry, like her, mostly young women. What a time to be alive. She unholstered her pistol.
Up the great stairs, there was much empty space ahead of her, in contrast with the roaring sea of commoner rage behind her. She did not know how long it would stay empty. There was plenty of ambient noise from the front of the palace that they might not realize something was amiss until they saw it.
She thought about those she had been ordered to kill. She only hoped she would encounter the King first.
But she was almost at the top, and so far their journey had been clear. Robespierre's off the cuff orders might have been shrewd tactics. Maybe she should have had more faith in her superiors.
She made it to the horizon. The queer gardens of the Parti Du Midi stood ahead of them, between the cavalry of women and the imposing icon of evil: the palace. She could already see an opened second floor window, her point of entry.
The blue coated guards in the distance had taken notice of them. Rather than firing, they yelled at each other to return to the palace. It was a smart move, given how inaccurate muskets were at such a range. But the people's justice was coming. Some of them behind her would no doubt fall today.
The men would waiting for them, but not likely prepared at her point of entry. She could only wish the rest best of lucky, certainly some would fall. Today, women were the soldiers of revolution.
The palace ahead was once a place of safety, luxury, and power. Now it would see blood.
She was nearing the mighty stone architecture.
Using her honed and unladylike muscles, she exploited the copious decorative ridges to crawl her way up, something none of the other women could never manage.
With a final thrust on a much more welcoming hand-hold, the window railing, she vaulted herself in.
She found herself in a brilliant room: a great unlit fireplace, art on the ceiling, marble coated walls could only begin to describe the sight. She heard muffled yelling, something about barricading a door. She tried to follow its direction.
She barged into the next room. It was almost empty, but no less artistic. The intricate patterns on the walls and ceiling made it almost dizzying. Weapon racks lined the walls, empty. How ironic the guards had left this place.
Élise busted through the next door, scarlet walls and sparkling chandeliers. She kept running.
She burst into the next room. It was most spectacular: gold and white, crystalline chandeliers, and most importantly a bed! But the quilts were ruffled, like the occupant had just departed.
She could hear more voices, troops barking out orders, something about the queen. Following the sound Élise charged for the next door.
She collided with stiff resistance, the door barely budging from its place. She tired to push her way through twice more.
She had to find another route. Élise turned away from the door, just in time to see a with a large candle stick bash her in the face.