Élise was sharpening her saber on the grindstone in the backyard. Sophie was gardening. Arno was practicing his marksmanship in the woods in the back, his musket cracking like thunder in the distance.

Locating Cloots' prison had been of little difficulty. The prisons in Paris were so overcrowded they had stuffed him in a prison in the countryside. The Templars happened to have a man on the inside serving in the guard. They had leveraged this to exchange letters that would not be intercepted.

Timothee had not involved her in writing the letter, but promised he would share the response with her. That was two days ago.

She looked at her blade, gleaming in the sun of early spring. She could see her distorted reflection in it. How many men had died by this weapon, and the blade she kept on her wrist, and the gun she kept on her belt? She could not know, truly. A man bleeding on the ground was not always dead. But she had killed far more than she had fingers to count. And what had it really been for? She had used her weapons to fight the aristocracy, but that only opened the door for the Illuminati to cease power. She had fought the Illuminati, but they had grabbed the minds of Paris and turned them into monsters none the less. They had hated her when they sent her to the gallows, after she had fought for them with all her heart.

The only ray of hope, a bizarre one, was coming from the treachery within the Illuminati Order, the strange arrests ordered by the National Convention.

She heard the doors open. It was Timothee.

"Our response has arrived, Élise," he said, heading down the patio steps. "This is his letter, Élise, tell us what you think." He handed her the letter.

It is with a deep sense of irony I write these words, but write them I shall.

I admit I was a zealous member of this secret brotherhood, the Illuminati. I believed deeply in their cause, or so I thought, and the cause believed deeply in me, or so I thought.

Maximilien Robespierre seemed to be my immediate superior in the Order. I was not the closest man to him, but he seemed greatly enthused by me. But over the past few months, he became insular. He was uninterested in assisting with our war against God.

But it's not just the likes of myself who was betrayed. His allies on the left and the right have tasted betrayal. Even poor Danton's been given a knife in the back, taken to prison and soon to be executed, no doubt. I never liked the man, but he was closer to Robespierre than I.

Maximilien's motives are a mystery to me. Perhaps Danton would have better answers. After poor Marat met the blade, Danton became one his favorite confidants. He likely knows more than I do. There's also a young man Max has recently taken under his wing named Louis Antoine Saint-Just, but he would not tell you anything willingly, I'm sure.

I apologize for my ignorance. There are only two other names I can point your towards: Theot and Gerle. I overheard Robespierre speaking of them. Both their names sound familiar to me, but I am not sure from where I have heard them.

Your present friend and former enemy,

Jean-Baptiste du Val-de-Grâce, baron de Cloots

'Your present friend and former enemy.' That was the story of her life, was it not, seeing people turn from foe to friend and friend to foe? It always cut somewhere deep and uncomfortable.

"What does it say?"Arno asked. Élise had been so immersed in the letter she had not even noticed his return.

"Cloots doesn't know why he was betrayed. But Danton's been arrested too. He thinks he might know more. He was closer to Robespierre."

"The other names are worth mentioning," Timothee said, as he had read the letter first. "Catherine Theot. She's a mad woman spouting religious non-sense about the revolution! She's been on the people's tongues quite a bit lately!"

"A conservative?" Arno asked.

"I don't think so. Ironically, think she's been preaching in favor of it."

"That's strange."

"Oui, but these are strange times. And Gerle, I believe he is an associate of hers. Christophe Gerle I believe is his name. And both of you know about Louis Antoine de Saint-Just, oui?"

"Only vaguely..." Arno said.

"A pretentious young man who's made quite a name for himself. He was commander in the National Guard before earning a seat in the National Convention as soon as he came of age. He's served in that blasted 'Committee of Public Safety' and even as President of the National Convention for two weeks. I believe he was at the frontlines, overseeing the war effort until roughly a month ago. Robespierre's brought him back."

"Sounds like quite a repertoire."

Chobat huffed. "The Illuminati has been pulling strings in his favor for quite some time, I'm certain. He was allowed to join the National Guard without even meeting the legal requirements, and rose to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in a matter of months."

After a brief pause, he spoke again, "We will try to locate Danton. I have a feeling contacting him in prison won't be as easy. In the meantime, I think both of you should investigate Theot and Gerle."

"As you command, Monsieur," Arno said.

"Élise, talk to Sophie when you want to venture back into the city, we'll dress you in a way which will make you a bit harder to recognize. Then you can attend one of Theot's little meetings."

He walked up the stairs, back inside.

"Strange times, aren't these?" Arno said. "Even stranger than they've been over the past few years."

"I used to think I knew what tomorrow would look like," she replied. "Now I just don't any more."

There was silence, before Arno decided to depart, heading back up the steps like Timothee.

Her feelings for him, when would she confess them? She knew it was coming soon.