Élise shoved the pistol into the holster where it slid home. She grabbed the weighted bullets and packs of ammunition into her belt and tied her sash tight around her waist. The Templar cross seemed to weigh heavier than before, but she could not find it in her to remove it. Though she was on her own now, with no place to call home; though she had lost everything and everyone she loved, she would not go down like a dog. Her heart was like a slab of concrete in her chest and it throbbed every minute she breathed.

This burden is mine. I'm going to find Arno. And take back what is mine.

Élise stomped down the steps, heading for the door, only to find Weatherall standing there, leaning against his stick. Élise stepped down the final step to meet him with a heavy heart. No doubt it was going to be words of wisdom – do not be reckless, use your wit and brain, trust your instincts or never overstep the sword… Élise barely needed to be reminded. But after Arno… Élise sighed. She realised she needed wisdom more than any steel or fire in this world. Standing before him, she recalled how tall and handsome he was in his younger days, when she was but a girl and learning swordplay was thrilling and tiring. Though she grew in stature, somehow he still towered over her. Now, as they stood facing each other on the step, he barely met her nose in height, so bent and weak, as well as old with years.

They met on the landing and Élise looked him in the eye. The old man instead raised his hand to offer her a gift. "What's this?" she asked. The object in question was sheathed in a hilt of fine make. The craftsmanship was one Élise would recognise. Few swords and scabbards were made with this unique pattern, for select members of the Order. She remembered seeing it on her father's wall. Weatherall lifted it and placed it Élise's outstretched palms. It rested there, fitting snugly and shining with its splendour, more so than it gathering dust in Weatherall's keeping, he thought.

"Your father gave me this. I have used it to defend your mother, your father…and then you." Weatherall said.

"Mr Weatherall…" Élise muttered, shaking her head.

"I cannot use it anymore. Now it's time you wielded it…" He pushed the sword further into her hands, where she gripped it with a renewed fervour. The wood creaked with the strength of her grasp and Weatherall nodded as if in answer. "Go, and find him. Fight for what you both need and deserve."

"I will."

"Élise." He whispered. "Be careful…"

/

Alarmed voices and shouts rang through the cavern space, and Élise marched through the throng with determined strides. A hooded Assassin walked forward holding out a palm. "Mademoiselle, you can't—''

Élise flicked out her arm, and the barrel of her gun was positioned between his eyes. "I can, and I will. Let me pass."

A murmur of unease and caution ran through the crowd of Assassins, many reached for their weapons, while others watched and eased around her to get a better position. "Mademoiselle…" The man pleaded softly.

"Let me through! I must speak with your council. Now!" Élise demanded. She grabbed his shoulder, which stood taller than her a good foot, and pressed the barrel to his temple. She nudged him forward, towards the open area she had remembered being brought before the leaders of the Brotherhood with Arno. He was not there to protect her anymore. Though she had been blindfolded, she trusted in Arno. She knew he would never let any harm come to her.

How true those words rang… Élise lamented.

"Mademoiselle De la Serre." A voice called. Élise raised her eyes to see 3 familiar figures step out over the audience of tensed Assassins. Hervé Quemar, whom Arno had once described as firm but fair, was a lawyer by trade, but though she did not know him besides his slight altercations with Mirabeau over Templars, she understood him to be trustworthy. Sophie Trenet; whom Élise would've disliked anyway even if she were not scowling down at her like a queen whose youth had been upstaged by a younger woman, was doing just that as she peered down with much disdain. And the tall, dark and imposing figure of Guillaume Beylier, who Élise could tell held the respect of more than just the council.

"Mademoiselle, please lower your weapon. We wish you no harm if you do not do so to ours…" Beylier called.

"No harm? She is threatening our people at gunpoint! How is that meaning no harm?" Trenet bellowed down. "Get her out!"

"Sophie, please…" Quemar pleaded gently.

"No! Every time that girl steps in here, one of our brothers dies!" She screamed.

Élise felt her heart shake with grief and an equal amount of anger at her words. She remembered the last time she had set foot in the Saint-Chappelle, was the last time two Master Assassins, Mirabeau and Bellec were seen alive. Although she was not involved in their deaths per se, it was undoubtedly a point of tension, as she was the one Arno had brought to the council, she was the one Arno had protected at the cost of his own mentor's life. And now, Arno himself…

Arno… Again, Arno… Élise cringed.

"Masters of the Brotherhood. I assure you, despite my appearance, I come in peace." Élise addressed in a clear and loud voice that rang through the domed room. All in attendance heeded her words, as they rang with authority and majesty. "I only wish to speak with you. After I have sought the answers I need, I shall leave you and never parley with you again. I swear it."

There was a rumble through the crowd. Though Élise could not make it out, she could surmise that the Assassins were very much wary of her, which they should be. But somehow, there was doubt among them. A chance; that was all she needed. Élise did not let down her guard as the 3 masters looked to each other.

"Mademoiselle, if you would please release our brother and come forward. We will discuss this privately, if that is indeed your intention." Quemar offered.

Élise cautiously and slowly lowered her pistol, releasing her silent hostage. None attacked her or advanced on her. As she ascended the velvet steps up to the council chambers of the Assassins Brotherhood, she could not shake the small feeling in her gut of a sense of awe at the premises. Not only was she, a former Templar and enemy, stepping freely into the headquarters of a Brotherhood, but she was doing of her own volition. Well, almost entirely free - as two assassins walked behind her slowly, like sentries for a glorified prisoner. Another part of her, which Élise recognised as the part of her that was constantly thinking of Arno – so often she did, it almost took on a personality and voice of its own, she could almost recognise it in her head – was wondering if these were the steps Arno trod when he reported to his superiors. These halls, he trained in for the two years he was separated from her, while she herself underwent a training of sorts on her own. These rooms, which Arno slept in – would he have been thinking of her? Did he lay awake at night thinking of her as much as she thought of him now? She despaired a little on the inside again, thinking back to that period of her life, when almost nothing save the vengeance she sought was all she had on her mind. It was not Arno that consumed her. And she clenched her fists in anger.

Yet another reason to regret everything.

She was led into a small room which walls were lined with books upon books. Idly, her thoughts wandered to Arno – would he have read these books in his time here? Oh, stop it Élise…focus. And she looked up to find herself being offered a small seat away from the 3 master Assassins which seated across from her at a table scattered with loose papers. The room was dimly lit with candles and a globe dominated the centre of the room. The two 'bodyguards' assumed their posts behind Élise's chair, where they remained silent.

"So, mademoiselle de la Serre…" Master Beylier said conversationally, or at least Élise hoped he did. "What is the purpose of your visit?"

Élise half expected the hostile Trenet to turn on her at this point, like Bellec had quailed at every word she had said those months before, but she remained silent but still equally hostile. At that, Élise began to speak. "Where is Arno?"

The Assassins looked to each other, wordless communication running through them. Their silence grated on Élise's nerves and she coiled against it. "Is he here?" She demanded again.

"Mademoiselle," Trenet spoke calmly, "I'm afraid to inform you that Arno Dorian was expelled from our-''

"I know he was expelled." Élise interrupted impatiently. "And I know, that you know, that Arno and I have been working together on our own. So spare me the pleasantries, please, for all our sakes!"

Trenet snorted and shook her head, while Masters Quemar and Beylier looked to each other cryptically. The elder Quemar, with his sandy hair and light robes stood from his seat then, and circled around to move towards Élise. "Mademoiselle. I understand the two of you were close, and were in tandem to achieve a private goal you shared. As we understand it, the Templar Grand Master, one whom young monsieur Arno had tried to inform was behind a conspiracy involving your father, is apparently dead beneath The Temple."

Élise turned her chin towards the man, and nodded. "Yes."

"As you probably already know, we have searched the area and upon finding no traces of both you and Arno, had assumed that you were together. We were hoping to garner some information to Arno's whereabouts, in fact, from you."

Élise felt a cold sensation stab her. So… They don't know where he is either… Élise stood from her seat then, earning movement from her two bodyguards. She turned to Quemar, "If you think I would give you any information to Arno to punish him for something he doesn't deserve, you're wrong. I'm leaving, and I suggest you let me do so."

Beylier and Trenet stood then, but Élise could see their postures were not aggressive, but passive. Quemar gave a shared look between the three and nodded to Élise. "Very well, mademoiselle. But please understand, though we search for young Arno for different reasons, I can assure you we mean no harm to him, or you for that matter. We hold the greatest of respect for you both."

"Really..?" Élise said, bleeding steel into her voice. "Like the last time I was here? I almost became guilty for a crime I did not commit… So, excuse me if that does not instil any of confidence in your word. Good day monsieur." She said coldly. With a brusque turn, Élise exited the council chamber and hastily but careful descended the stairs, under the watchful eyes of a dozen or more Assassins, until she had exited unto the street again. The throng of everyday French life surrounded her again; a woman selling her wares, a man in street corner doing the same and more people streaming in from across the bridge and from the streets. When the cool air hit her face, Élise finally took a breath, gasping like she had been holding it in the entire time.

What had she expected? The Brotherhood to be cooperative or that Arno was there? Élise was shocked to discover she honestly had not expected him to be… What choice did she have? She had had to start somewhere, and Arno…was always loyal to the Brotherhood. It was a reasonable assumption for Arno to return to his comrades for help.

But…if he had…did he not trust her anymore? Leaving her in favour of them?

Élise gasped a breath to steady her, and a hand to straighten her heavy body which had flopped over the railing over the river. A footstep alerted her senses to a presence, and she whirled, with sword drawn faster than she had ever done before to meet the masked eyes of an Assassin. The man raised his hands, in a gesture of peace and surrender. Élise glared at him and spat, "What do you want, Assassin?"

"You're looking for Arno aren't you, mademoiselle?" He said.

Élise's eyes widened, but she quickly recovered herself. "Do you know anything about Arno? Do you know where he is?" The Assassins wore robes of pale white and red, in the kind common to the Brotherhood it seemed, but for one blue sash on his arm.

The stoic assassin seemed to measure her for a second, "I was sent to the Temple to understand what had happened there. When we arrived, I saw Arno dragging himself away."

Élise's heart stopped and in the next moment found her hands grabbing him by his collar. "You saw him? Where? Where did he go?" she shouted. The Assassin backed away under her weight, stunned by her urgency.

"He disappeared down the street…."

Élise's eyes were wide and her chest felt like it was pressed with bags of sand. Arno was alive! He was alive! But…where was he now? She turned a heated gaze on him. "Why didn't you help him?"

The sudden turn to rage startled the Assassin. "I was there for a different reason…"

Élise sucked in a sharp breath and released the poor man. She backed away into the ledge and sat down, breathing hard. Keep in under control, she told herself. "Did you see which way he went?"

"Yes" he said. "After we scanned the area, I followed his trail. It disappeared in the tunnels, towards Saint-Dennis"

Saint-Dennis… The Franciade they were going to call it… Now Élise had a lead…finally.

"Thank you." Élise muttered and turned away, already planning out her next move, anxious to get moving…

"Mademoiselle…"

Élise stopped and looked back, surprised. The Assassin spoke softly and sincerely, though his voice was devoid of seemingly any emotion, like what Élise had always seen Assassins as, masked and hooded, and killers, the lot of them. But she could feel behind his mask, the expression he would have made. "If you find our brother, tell him to come home." He then turned and disappeared into the crowd.