It had been a week and a half since she had been back in Paris. This was her third time checking up on Arno, posing as his wife. She was heading towards the vast encampment south of the city.

She was starting realize how much she missed being away from him. During the ride from Marsielle back to the Chobat chateau, her spirits had been low. At first she assumed it might be Cabin Fever, being stuck in a coach so long. But now she really looked forwards to their brief interactions, even when they were, on the surface, very business like.

That is not to say the climate in Paris was pleasant. The tension between the Fédérés and National Guard had been palatable. She had heard them shout each other, curse at each other, heard stories of fighting.

Over the past two months, the war abroad had not been going well. The enemy forces had secured the Rhine River. No one seemed to know whose side the king was on. The city had never seemed this angry since the Tennis Court Oath and the Storming of the Bastille. Mayor Pétion had done his best to keep the rowdy crowds at bay, so far it had worked. It was curious they could be losing the war, even with the Apple of Eden somewhere in French hands. Was Robespierre so selfish he would rather keep it here, so his persuasive powers could be used in Paris? Then again, she had to remember it was not truly Maximilien calling the shots, it was the traitor to the east.

Élise exited the southern outskirts of the city, making her way into the militia encampment. What a sight it was. The king must have been terrified. Of course, that was the point. Arno was deep within the encampment, so she had a substantial long walk to get to him. The Fédérés were a rough crowd, gambling, drinking, whoring, and occasionally littering, but they seemed to respect her enough to stay out of her way. Maybe it helped she had a pistol and a sword. Still, she could not help but feel uneasy. She never knew what drunkard might get the idea in his head to grab her rump. The smell was bad, especially the deeper one got into the camp. Flies were more ubiquitous every visit. And she constantly got eyed.

Yet despite their lack of culture and propriety, she did remember the beautiful song she had heard on her last visit.

Arise, children of the Fatherland,

The day of glory has arrived

Against us tyranny's

Bloody standard is raised

Do you hear, in the countryside

The roar of those ferocious soldiers?

They're coming right into your arms

To cut the throats of your sons, and women

That was the first verse, the only one she could remember clearly.

She was nearing Arno's tent. Smoke was rising from the area. She saw some kind of pork roast was happening. Arno himself sat away from the fire on a chair, alone. When he looked up to see her approach, he smiled, and patted the chair next to him.

She sat.

"It's good to see you again, Arno."

"Likewise."

"What have you learned?"

"There's not much to learn from this crowd," Arno said. "But I heard a man named Danton, Georges Danton, has returned from Arcis. He's apparently popular with the people here."

"Danton...that name sounds familiar. I believe Monsieur Chobat has mentioned him before...Now where did you say he returned from?"

"Arcis."

"Where is Arcis?"

"I haven't the slightest clue."

She chuckled lightly.

"How are you finding the company here?" she asked.

"They're young and angry, mostly. But I've found a pair who are likable enough. Their names are Edmond and Isaac, and seem to be of the opinion -"

She heard some indecipherable voice in the distance, the sound of a speech. She motioned Arno to silence. She stood. Yes, a speech. Her eyes found two men on horse back, their animals walking slowly through the front edge of camp. She recognized both, and the one in back was holding the Apple.

Arno, who had also stood, asked, "Is that...Robespierre?"

"Oui! And Marat, he's got the Piece of Eden!"

"What the hell are they doing here?"

"We need to find out."

She began power walking forwards. Arno was in tail. Her mind buzzed with worry, what disaster they were about to cause, and what she would do when she got close. Firing upon them in an encampment like this would be a death sentence. But maybe it was time to be a martyr.

She was beginning to make out some of what he was saying: 'The king', 'foreign invaders', 'Commander Layefatte'. Some of the Fédérés in the distance were raising their muskets and cheering.

She weaved through the crowd, most of them having turned to the speaker. The Apple of Eden was clearly being used upon them.

"...liberty!" Applause and cheers from the front of the encampment.

"The selfish aristocrats, who dine...while...They sit in the company of the...and his Austrian queen, who's nation today butchers the...French people! People who simply seek...in peace!"

Élise hoped they would leave before she got close enough to perform her duties.

"...and speeches do not atone for these things! King Louis is surrounded by foreign guards, for he knows...us! Trust is...If a leader does not trust his people, it is an obvious conclusion the people should not trust him!"

Raucous cheers.

"The French nation is in our hands! It is the common clay of France, who today should rise and...liberty's blessing! Is it not self-evident..."

She was getting closer, though still not in a range for firing. Was her life worth that of Robespierre or Marat? And if so, who should she shoot? It did not matter. If she shot one, Arno would shoot the other.

"...ignorance! The Holy Roman Emperor, and the arbitrary impositions and superstitions of the church, would have you believe medieval, barbaric ideas of what should govern our lives!"

She was deeply dreading the coming moment.

Should she consult with Arno? She could stop and whisper, perhaps, but what could they accomplish with a brief discussion? And that would delay things. No, she had to keep going.

"They have imposed laws which cause strangulation of progress and suffering which is indefensible, so they hide behind tradition! But tradition is no master of man! It is time we break this cycle of endless absurdity!"

Thunderous cheers.

She might be walking to her black doom. But what purpose could either Assassin have if they would not shoot the greatest menaces in France? And the Apple? Maybe with no one to claim the Apple, Marat and Robespierre both dead, it would indeed be lost to from Illuminati possession, at least for a time.

Maybe this was their end, their ultimate sacrifice for the cause. If their lives were not worth this, then what?

"While our heroic soldiers are dying abroad to the east, it is disgraceful we should sit idle while the king and his sycophants, and slaves of the church, continue to live in luxury in the Tuileries Palace, unable to look their subjects in the eyes! This day we show we no longer bow before the arbitrary traditions of these self-servers! The common man can see and reason! Better, perhaps, for he endures the grit of life of common life! Today, let us take our mite to this palace where cowards and traitors hide, so you may secure your rights and your dignity!"

There was a deafening cheer. Arno and Élise perhaps fifty paces away, when both men took off, their horses galloping off into the city.

That felt like a tremendous relief to her, her spirits rising euphorically. But:

"Tuileries and their rats will feel our righteous wrath!" a near by Sans-Culottes cried.

The boisterous horde began to charge.