Assassin's Creed 3: Unity Chapter 60: A Man On The Inside (1791), an assassin's creed fanfic

They had discussed the plan over breakfast. Arno was to be their man on the inside. He would join the Fédérés, or whatever they had been called. According to Denis' mother, recruiting booths were all over the city, usually decorated with the tri-color cockade. He had thought it through, and decided there was no harm in using his real name, either.

He had only exited the salon a few minutes ago. The salon itself was at the north most end of the city, and the city stretched southward along the coast. That's the direction he was walking now.

His accommodations the previous night were not luxurious, but he had dealt with worse. Denis and Élise had been given bedrooms, Arno slept on a couch, with a blanket kindly provided by Denis' mother, who he knew now was named Madame Dupuis. He had never know Denis' surname prior.

The streets were narrow and crowded, but amid the bustle, he believed he could make out some demagoguery.

"A foreign enemy looms over us, eager to invade and take out hard fought liberty! Let the future of France be in the hands of all its people! Come, join the Fédérés! Open to men of all ages and economic standing!"

Yes, a man at a stand just like Denis' mother had described, with the tricolor banner. Arno eagerly walked over. The speaker, young and wearing a red liberty cap, turned to him.

"Bonjour, Monsieur! Interested in joining?"

"Yes, I believe so. The Fédérés, correct? A militia standing at the ready to defend l'France?"

"Precisely, sir! Just sign your name here, sir!"

Arno paused. Should he use his really use his true name? He had no reason to believe the Illuminati would know it, but there was no harm in picking a fake. But what would he pick?

He did not want to hesitate any longer.

Arno Dorian

Finishing, he felt pinch of discomfort. Was it unwise to use his real name? If he had chosen another, there was a slight risk in forgetting it, but -

"Tres bien, Monsieur! Join us for practice this Sunday! We've set up our training grounds on Endoume Island. A barge will be leaving at noon, from le port de Malmousque. Bring your musket rifle if you have one! Practice should last a few hours, so come with a full belly."

Only a few hours of practice per week? No cafeteria? This was not what Arno anticipated. He had expected to be part of an army, with an encampment of tents somewhere in the woods at the very least, not a social club that met once a week. The stranger seemed to read Arno's face, his previously robust demeanor fading a little. "Monsieur, we are not a standing army. We are a militia. 'Minutemen', as they are called in Amerique. Citoyens soldats. We will provide some communal resources but don't expect this to be your nouvelle carrière. This isn't a salaried position. We don't have barracks, a mess hall...You'll have to keep tilling your fields."

"I'm not a farm-"

"I was speaking metaphorically, bien sûr. Were you expecting -"

"It's fine." Arno was a little irked, but felt a fool for expecting otherwise. "Sunday, you said. At noon?"

"Oui. Bring any arms you have."

"Merci, Monsieur. I look forward to it."

Arno walked away swallowing a bit of disappointment. If they only met on weekends for a few hours, it would be all the more difficult to get at this Guy-Marcel Rodet.

He would return to the others with the news. They probably would not be surprised. Not Denis, at least.

As he walked, he began to make out of the voice of a crier.

"Good citizens of France! It is my duty to inform you, as an impartial dispenser of information, of an edict recently put out by the King Of Prussia, William the II, and Holy Roman Emperor, Leopold II, in response to France's recent political upheaval. Please, take a copy of this statement, that you might all stay informed on current events, and the threats that may face the future of France."

Arno stopped in front of the crier, a man with a thin mustache and bicorn hat. The man noticed him.

"I'll take a copy, please," Arno said.

"Ah, yes, good sir! Staying informed is always a noble act! Take a copy."

He handed Arno one from his thick stack of papers.

"Thank you, sir.".

The Assassin made his way around the crier, and continued on his way. He began reading as he walked.

Their Majesties, the Emperor and the King of Prussia, having heard the wishes and representations of Monsieur, the Count of Artois, jointly declare that they view the situation in which the King of France currently finds himself as a subject of common interest for all of Europe's sovereigns. They hope that this interest can not fail to be recognized by the powers from whom assistance is being requested. Consequently, jointly with their respective Majesties, they will use the most efficient means in relation to their strengths to place the King of France in a position to be totally free to consolidate the bases of a monarchical government that shall be as amenable to the rights of sovereigns as it is to the well-being of the French nation. In this case then, their said Majesties, the Emperor and the King of Prussia are resolved to act quickly, in mutual agreement, and with the forces necessary to achieve the proposed and common goal. Meanwhile, they shall issue their troops the necessary orders to prepare them for action.

Political speak was always a bit hard to decode. Arno read it over again, even though he got the general idea the first time:

The final lines were the hardest to decipher, but it sounded like a half-baked threat. Threats were bad, of course, but the meekness of the language meant foreign powers were feeling a little scared, a little reluctant to intervene; That was good.

Arno weaved past a couple of patrolling soldiers, and then a pruney old man with a cane, and once against found himself at the door of the salon. He entered.

Élise, Denis, and his mother were at the table, playing cards, the plump woman farthest from his approach, Élise and Denis equidistant from his left and right.

"Welcome back, Arno," Élise said. "Do you bring any news?"

"Oui. I signed up for Guy's little army. They're holding some kind of training session Sunday, on Endoume Island, leaving from le port de Malmousque on a barge." Do you know where le port de Malmosque is?"

Denis spoke. "Ouais. It's at the southern end of the city. Old Rolly was in charge of the town port that mostly controlled international shipping. Le port de Malmousque is mostly for traffic with the nearby islands."

"How big is Ile d'Endoume?"

"Tiny, Dorian. Maybe big enough to hold a village, if that."

"Hopefully Guy-Marcel will be waiting at the harbor. Killing him and then escaping the from a tiny island..."

"No! We shouldn't kill Guy yet, Arno. He's surely not the only Illuminati conspirator here. We have an opportunity to get inside. Feel out their presence. Find out how deep this rabbit hole goes."

Arno had been thinking more along those lines before, but once he had learned the disappointing scope of the Fédérés -

"So it sounds like that island is some kind of militia headquarters," Élise said. "Maybe one of us should do some snooping before your training."

"But sneaking onto an island would be difficult, if not impossible," Denis added. He thought a moment. "Maybe its best to just go to training and see how things fare."

Then his gaze shifted slightly. "Now what's that in your hand, Dorian?"

"This?" Arno held up the paper. "Some statement from the foreign powers, Holy Roman Emperor and the King of Prussia I believe."

Denis held out his hands and wiggled his fingers. Arno handed it to him. He snatched it and began reading.

His face grew stern and angry.