Chapter Text
28 July, 1794
The day had finally come.
Every assassination, every sneak in and eavesdrop had built up to this very moment.
Arno climbs the highest tower of the temple swiftly, a trail of bodies behind his back. All his doing. Nearly nothing in comparison to the path he built to get where he is tonight. Much like a thief in the night, he had sneaked through the shadows until all the unlucky guards inside the temple had met their fate.
His palms are sweaty from the excitement, and the inside of his gloves is sticky and slippery, but he manages to keep his balance and momentum. His heart rate shoots up when he finally manages to reach the top and sees a familiar silhouette ahead.
Germain stands alone at the top of the temple, a sword by his hand. Arno looks at him straight in the eyes and walks towards him. Germain looks a bit too confident, however. As if he had a card under his sleeve…
He does. Germain points the sword in Arno’s direction and a beam of light comes from it and almost reaches the former Assassin, who manages to roll to the side just in time and takes cover behind a wall.
What the hell was that?!
“So the prodigal Assassin returns...” Germain states. Arno recovers from the initial shock. “I suspected as much when La Touche stopped sending his tax revenue.”
Arno uses his Eagle Vision to watch his enemy through the walls and sneaks his way to his back. He reaches for Germain’s throat, but before he could even touch the man’s gut with the blade and end his duty with de la Serre, a loud explosion takes place and Arno is thrown away.
When the blinding light finally dissipates, he sees Germain walk away and suddenly disappear, as if he had been magically teleported.
“How….WHAT??!”
The former Assassin panics for a minute. Where the hell did he go? He could be anywhere in Paris, maybe even in the world at that moment.
Then it occurs to him that the Temple’s vault is one of the likely options.
It’s worth a shot.
Arno runs downstairs as fast as he can, not caring if he is running too fast even for his well-trained physique. After entering the catacombs, it doesn’t take him very long to find the door to the vault.
As he looks at the door, hurried footsteps come from the other side of the corridor.
Élise.
“What happened here?”
“Germain’s got some kind of… weapon. I’ve never seen something like it before.” He hesitates briefly, his pride pinching him. “He got away from me.”
“He didn’t come past me. He must still be down there,” she replies, motioning towards the vault door.
Arno activates the classic Templar insignia in the door, and the door begins to open. A little too slowly, in Élise’s opinion.
She draws her sword and begins running in the direction of a possible fatal end.
“Élise…!” Arno warns in a whisper, but it is too late. Germain had noticed them and uses the sword on Élise, who, at Arno’s relief, manages to dodge the attack just in time. She finds cover and Arno hides in the spot opposing hers.
“And Mademoiselle de la Serre as well. This is quite the reunion,” Germain sneers.
“Stay hidden!” Arno says as quietly as he can considering the distance between them. “Keep him talking.”
As Élise begins distracting Germain, Arno studies his surroundings. Risking making a move while his opponent is unaware, he finds a passageway that leads into the ruins of what was probably once a Templar headquarter. Moving furtively through the old corridors and upstairs, soon enough he finds himself above Germain, ready to pounce.
And he does.
But another explosion of light ensues and Arno is blown away again. For the second time, his rival escapes his grip. Before Germain reappears, Arno takes cover again.
“You can’t hide from me, boy.” Arno feels Germain using eagle vision. But how could it be..?
Then he hears the sound of lightning bolts hitting the rock in front of him, and he instinctively throws a smoke bomb in Germain’s direction. Using this to his own advantage, he turns around and charges towards his enemy, but his blade barely kisses Germain’s neck.
Getting up from the electric discharge and finding his enemy gone again, Arno hides. Turning his back towards the area Germain remains, he spots Élise by the corner of his eye, hidden behind a tomb.
“I can’t seem to find an opening,” she whispers.
“We have to take him together.”
So that was how it was going to be. United, or not at all. She nods.
Arno watches out for where Germain’s attention was set and moves stealthily towards the other end of the chamber. His heart rate is up in the high heavens. He cannot afford the slightest of miscalculations. Not now. If he does, he’ll never get a chance again. And Élise... she will never forgive him.
Upon reaching his destination, Arno’s chest hurts and his legs are about to give out. He breathes out the air he didn't realize he was holding and uses his Eagle Vision. Germain faces in Arno's direction.
Élise nods.
It is now or never.
He takes another smoke bomb and throws it at Germain’s feet. Then, he charges towards his enemy.
Arno nearly misses again, but milliseconds before Germain can run from his death, another blade crosses his chest and he falls to the ground with a loud thump. Élise pulls out her sword, while Germain still grasps for life on the floor.
Arno looks at Élise.
“All yours.” She steps away and stands still, waiting for him to strike the killing blow. And he does.
His vision goes white as Germain shares his last minutes with him. He sees a memory of the very man laid on the floor of the temple, but decades younger. He sits on a desk, examining a Templar pin when suddenly his head begins to hurt and visions start floating around him. Suddenly, he can see the mysteries of years long past and years to come.
“Bravo. You’ve slain the villain!”
Arno turns around to meet Germain once again.
“That is how you’ve cast this little morality play in your mind, isn’t it? I’m not really here.”
He points towards the young version of him, the one admiring the symbols. “I’m not really there either. At the moment I’m bleeding out on the floor of the Temple, but it seems the Father of Understanding has seen fit to give us this time to talk.”
The memory changes. Now it shows a slightly older Germain kneeling on the floor, taking Jacques de Molay’s writings from their hideout.
“Ah, a particular favorite of mine. I did not understand the visions that haunted my mind, you see. Great towers of gold, cities shining like silver. I thought I was going mad. Then I found this place—Jacques de Molay's vault. Through his writings, I understood.”
“Understood what?” Arno asks in an arrogant tone.
“That somehow, through the centuries, I was connected to Grand Master De Molay. That I had been chosen to purge the Order of the decadence and corruption that had set in like rot. And to wash the world clean, and restore to the truth the Father of Understanding intended.”
The memory changes. This time, it shows François de la Serre banishing him from the Templar order.
“That seems to have gone over well.” Arno comments.
“Prophets are seldom appreciated in their own time. Exile and abasement forced me to reevaluate my strategy. Find new avenues for the realization of my purpose.”
The vision shows people bowing down for Germain, adoring him.
“No matter the cost?” Arno says snarkily.
“New order never comes without destruction of the old. And if men are made to fear untrammeled liberty, so much the better. A brief taste of chaos will remind them why they crave obedience.”
The memory switches to the most recent one: Élise fighting Germain, avenging her father.
“It appears we part ways here. Think on this: the march of progress is slow, but it is inevitable as a glacier. All you have accomplished is to delay the inevitable. One death cannot stop the tide. Perhaps it will not be my hand that shepherds mankind back into its proper place—but it will be someone else’s. Think on this when you remember this day.”
Arno’s vision goes white again and he finds himself back in the Temple, kneeling beside Germain’s dead body. He hets up and withdraws his hidden blade from Germain’s neck.
“Ahat was that about?” Élise asks, still standing in the same spot. Arno sighs, feeling the weight of the world leave his shoulders at last.
“Let’s go to the Café, I’ll explain everything there.”
Half an hour later, Arno looks at his father’s pocket watch, its arms fixed. The musical performance in the Café has just finished and it is still overrun with people. As the legal owner, he has the privilege of a comfortable seat by the window, having the garden as a delightful view. His muscles hurt from the earlier fight, but the fluffiness of the chair almost makes it forgettable. He takes a sip of his beloved Bordeaux, while Élise has her arms crossed on the other side of the table. She is frowning at him.
“So, you’re telling me all of this was in vain?” she asks carefully. “Someone else will just come and redo all the harm? I cannot believe this.”
“It’s not up to us, you know,” he replies, looking into her eyes. “It’s not our duty to end whatever it is that’s happening. We just did it—”
“Yes,” she says grumpily. “It was my duty. You wanted to help.”
“I don’t mean that I regret it, Élise. It’s done. I don’t think we should become vigilantes and we should take some time off to regain our strength and gather support. I am no longer an Assassin and I don’t think the Templars would welcome you with open arms either if you were to establish yourself as their Grand Master starting tomorrow. We don’t have an alternative.”
They pause for a brief moment. Élise takes the wine bottle and drinks what was left of it.
“You’re right. I need to solidify my position before I attempt taking my place as Grand Master. I owe it to my father. But still, you’ve got something both the Order and the Brotherhood want.”
Arno sighs when he remembers the artifact. “You wouldn’t mind if I…?”
“Oh, by all means.” She smiles faintly. “You’ve said it: they don’t want me around anymore. Bribing will not change anything. Besides, it does nothing in regards to my father’s legacy, so take it to your Brotherhood for all I care.”
Arno laughs. “Okay, I’ll go there first thing in the morning, if they don’t come after me first. For now, let us celebrate.”
29 July, 1794
Arno walks slowly towards the entrance to the Assassins’ hideout. Élise had stayed at home to write a letter to her Templar contacts in England, so it was just him.
“Arno Victor Dorian.” An apprentice watching over the gates calls. “The Templar-loving traitor returns. How unlikely.”
“I have something your Mentor may desire.”
“Interesting. What is it?”
“Just give it to him.” He holds out the artifact and the novice carelessly takes it with only one hand as if it was a normal sword. “Be careful with it, it’s dangerous.”
“What’s the cost for this, traitor?”
“Just leave me and Élise alone, once and for all.”
“So it is true what we hear? About you and the Templar?”
“That is none of your business. And you will leave me — and her — alone.” Arno turns around and starts walking away from the Order that once took pride in his father’s affiliation to it. The Brotherhood had been his family. Not anymore.
“Wait! Answer just this question!” the apprentice calls.
Arno stops and turns to face the boy again.
“Why not the Templars? Why are you giving it to us?” the boy asks.
Arno smiles. “I felt like I owed the Brotherhood one last favor, after all the wrong I’ve done.” He turns his heels and resumes walking away. “Besides, this place was closer.”
Upon reaching the Café again, Arno goes straight to his room. He needs to recover from the tiring fight, the headache from two bottles of wine, and a walk in the summer sun. As soon as he enters the room, he realizes Élise is missing from the desk.
“So,” Élise begins.
He turns around to find her leaning on the doorway to the terrace, the sun shining on her back. He covers his eyes for protection as his head begins pounding.
“How was it there?” she continues.
“The way you’d imagine: I was called a traitor and didn’t stay for long. Fin. The End.”
“Really? That’s all? I figured maybe they’d make you stay. Or have you lecture them on the artifact.”
“We’re not really the blood-crazed idiots your former Order makes us sound like. I’m sure the new Mentor will figure out what it’s about, whoever he is.”
He lets himself plop on the bed. Élise laughs.
“We? So you’re back on the tracks? They’ve taken you back in?”
“Élise, please. I’m exhausted.”
“Oh I know, Assassin,” she yawns. “But what if they storm the place demanding answers? Or come for me?”
Arno looks up to see her standing at the other end with a knee on the bed, almost ready to join him. She won’t give up before she gets her answer. Typical.
He sighs. “They will not, Élise. I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with them anymore. I joined the Brotherhood for redemption and my work is done. The Café-Théâtre is our place to do as we please. I want you to live here, with me. And should Germain’s supporters come for you for revenge, we’ll keep them at bay. Now, can you just come over here so we can finally rest?”
She grins. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”