Paris, June 1799 - First Target

------------------------------------------------------------- Paris, June 1799 -------

Adeláire was breathing heavily and her ribs ached in the side. Carefully she moved her feet around in the stage of her exhaustion and tried not to stumble. The rapier seemed to be getting heavier in her hand, and her sweaty clothes stuck uncomfortably on the skin. She found the only pacification in the aspect that it doesn’t enact differently to her training counterpart.

Since Arno's conversation with the Council, three weeks had passed. Francesco had not yet returned from his mission, and they agreed that they would wait until the team was complete. The latest news about Bonaparte also didn’t announce a return from Egypt, which was very near to the same time. So they had enough time to plan when Francesco arrived in Paris.

Adeláire had taken this opportunity to withdraw from Arno. She had to admit fairly to herself that she, since the night they had spent with each other after the Council talk, had holed up into the sanctuary. Only for the reason that she knew he would never follow her hither. That couldn’t really be said about the rest of Paris.

Still, she hoped that Francesco would finally show up, so she could concentrate on the mission. The eternal circling of thoughts around the emotions rumbling in her stomach, and being locked up under the earth, slowly made her crazy.

"Oh, here you are."

Verne's familiar voice came to her ear from the entrance of the exercise room. Adeláire relaxed her fighting position and nodded in thanks to her training partner. Smoothly, her rapier disappeared in the belt and she turned to her belongings, where she had deposited a towel and drinking water.

As she turned back to Verne with the towel in one hand and the water in the other, she registered with a frown that he crossed the room just slowly. His intense eye up irritated her.  "What?"

"Tell me why you've been creeping down here for days and nowhere put in an appearance?" Verne stopped in the middle of the room and observantly crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Adeláire turned away from him and threw the towel back on the bench. In order to gain time, she tied her hair freshly together at the neck.  "Because I needed training and preparation. And I get that well now best here in the sanctuary. What's so unusual about it? "

"Unusual is just that you don’t need both, my dear. You've been well trained, and we haven’t had anything to prepare for."

Adeláire was about to round on him when she noticed his choice of words. Again she turned to him.  "Had ..?"

Verne smirked.  "Sly thing you are. Yes, exactly, had ... Francesco is finally back and I think it's time we start the mission."

Adeláire couldn’t hide a sigh of relief.  "What kept him so long?"

Verne shrugged his shoulders.  "No idea. I haven’t spoken to him yet. The best thing to do is make yourself fresh and ask him. We meet upstairs in the café." Adeláire bit her lower lip and looked away before continuing the movement and clawed together her things from the bench.

"Is something happening... between you and Arno?" Verne's voice sounded softly and gently.

Adeláire bit her lower lip again before she turned back and went in his direction to get past him. She stopped her steps as she reached him.  "No. And I also want it to stay that way." She hesitated briefly, and she had trouble keeping the gray look that was coming upon her. "It was going too far already."

Verne merely nodded, put his left hand on her shoulder, squeezed gently, and shed more words.  "We'll see you up."

Adeláire nodded mutely and made her way to the barracks. It already engulfed her chest, as she thought of the following face-to-face encounter with Dorian.

She found the three men sitting on the terrace outside the cafe. A strong June-Sun burned from the sky and for protection they had drawn the Assassinhoods deeply into the forehead. The attitude of the three seemed relaxed, and Francesco seemed to share a few details about his mission when Adeláire approached:  "... well... and before I could do anything against it the direct sea route to Calais be aimed as a war zone and I had to look for an alternative return journey route. That's why it took a little longer than originally planned."

Verne was the first to lift his gaze to Adeláire and give her a soft smile before he politely rose from his chair. Francesco stopped in his speech, turned to her, and a joyful smile brightened his features. He was still unshaven, and it seemed as though he had moved into the café directly from the ship. He had still shouldered his gun, and his beige coat seemed a little battered and worn. He hurriedly raised himself, spread his arms, and gave her a total of three kisses to the right and to the left in a French manner.  "Mia sorellina carissima! Nice to finally meet you sound and cheerful again. How are you?"

As it may already be inferred from Francesco Marechal's name, Italian ancestors were in his bloodline. This had been from the beginning a circumstance which had bound them both. Adeláire smiled gladly at him, and cordially replied his embrace.  "I think I don’t have quite as much interesting to tell as you did. After all, it wasn’t me, who was fooling around abroad for several weeks. What kept you so long?"

Adeláire deliberately didn’t throw too intense glances to Arno. On her arrival he had joined the courteous manner of the chair lift, and now stood still as a statue in a general hello. His face was darkened by the hood, still drawn deeply to his forehead, so that she couldn’t make out the expression of his eyes. Adeláire decided once to give Francesco and his explanations her attention.

"... yes, so was that. And as you can see, I have resumed safe and sound. So no reason to make so long faces." That induced Francesco to take his wine glass and let it sound at the glasses of his friends.  "So, and now I want to know is, what’s so important that you have practically pocketed me directly from the sill.”

The four at the table exchanged questioning glances until finally Arno for the first time took the word and pointed to Adeláire.  "It’s the lady's mission. Let her explain." His voice sounded calm, controlled. And as he lifted his head, he revealed a dark look, which sought to enter into her thoughts with a pure effort of will.

Uncomfortably Adeláire raised her shoulders a little before she devoted herself to Francesco's much warmer eyes. Verne's frown she passed over completely.  "Do you know what a so-called Piece of Eden is?"

Francesco's eyebrows shot up.  "Sure. As far as I remember, our good Arno has found one in Franciade, and let it be rid of us to... Merde... Egypt." Francesco's gaze flew to his friend, who sat like a silent shadow at the table. "Don’t tell me that Bonaparte is somehow involved in this affair."

Arno smiled briefly.

"You’ve always been someone who was able to shape the connections to a picture. And yes, exactly therefore it goes. But let the lady finish the story", Arno replied.

The smile he devoted to Adeláire was now clearly traced by a spoor of ice. Francesco didn’t notice, or ignored it consciously, for her sake. No matter how, she was grateful to him for it.  "We don’t know whether he is doing this campaign because of the Piece of Eden, or whether there are other reasons. And we're not sure if he's already in possession of another artifact. Already the appearance of two here in France is unusual enough to avoid the presumption. And that is exactly what will be our task. We are stabled from the Council to get under Arno's leadership at Bonaparte and find out what artifacts are in his possession."

Francesco had attentively listened to her and Adeláire could clearly see that he was trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Finally, his eyes turned to Arno again.  "Is that supposed to say, they’ve taken you back into the Brotherhood?"

Arno's retorting smile clearly had a bitter touch.  "No. But they seem to need me. So the Council has bitten in this sour apple and asked me to cooperate closely with the Brotherhood. And let us... you… allow a self-sufficient way of working."

Francesco's eyebrows shot up again before they fell again and he frowned.  "Unusual. The Council has never done that before."

Arno smiled again bitterly.  "They seem desperate."

There was a thoughtful silence that none of the four seemed to be willing to break. After all, it was Verne who took control.  "All right then. Do we have any ideas where we want to start? "

Adeláire had one. But that would mean addressing Arno directly. Inwardly, she scorned herself, and demanded professionalism. She felt the muscles of her shoulders tighten as she lifted her chin.  "Arno, as far as I know, you have often frequent Bonaparte in his bureau. Has he moved his premises since then or does he hang on to them?  And could we find something useful there?"

Verne was quicker to reply than originally asked.  "This is not a bad idea. Also, if we do not directly find an artifact, we could ascertain useful information about its network, subordinate, service routes and so on. However, we should also definitely carry out his private rooms. He will not save up precious artifacts in his bureau."

Francesco returned to a calm manner and pursued the conversation quietly and inwardly, which was rather unusual for a man with Italian stake in the blood. Arno acknowledged Verne's explanations with a jovial hand gesture.  "That would’ve been my plan, too. The challenge will be that nobody, not a single servant, nor a single guard, should be able to discover us. Let alone that someone dies. If any reports of unusual happenings at home reach Bonaparte, he will never believe us on his return that he needs us at his side."

Verne grinned broadly.  "Well, if this challenge is not an easy one for four of the best-trained assassins of the... eh..." The unhappily chosen original end of his sentence sounded bumpy. But Arno decided not to go into the matter any further. Adeláire felt herself slowly relax as she began to enjoy this planning phase. She had always liked working as a team. And Verne was right, these three men were considered the best, whether in the Brotherhood or not.  She questioned, "So well, what do we need to start? Where do we start? And most of all, when?"

Arno smiled softly in her direction and for the first time that day there was something like warmth in it.  "We already have that thought through. Drink up and then let us explore our first aim. Only when we have seen the current status quo can we work out a plan for the infiltration."

Verne grinned again.  "You are and will remain just a smart fellow my friend." Then he emptied his coffee and rose.

Francesco did the same and stretched himself in elevation.  "I would’ve liked to take a bath first, but well. I think the good Arno will be able to safely provide me a room with a hot bath later in his chic café, right?”

Arno joined the general elevation and tapped his friend on the shoulder. As a consequence, dust was stirred up from the mantle.  "Sure, my friend. You know you're always welcome under this roof." A short pause draw in, in which Arno's gaze wandered to Adeláire. "Like any other Assassin..."

Adeláire could feel the redness creeping up her neck again. She rose hastily and pushed her chair under the table.  "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go." Adeláire turned away from the three men towards the house facade of the café as Verne held her back.

"Adeláire?"

Her coat billowed in the re-rotation back to the three men, who all smiled.  "Mhm?"

Verne grinned and pointed with a thumb in the direction of the bridge across the river, right in the front of the cafe.  "That way."

Adeláire's facial expression darkened just before she went past the three, striding towards the bridge. Verne's quiet, amused laughter she sought to ignore as well as possible.

----------------------------------------- Paris, Tuilerien, June 1799 -------

They had, without discussion and agreeance to each other, taken the path over the roofs to cross the town in the direction of Tuileries. They had left Notre Dame and the Palais de Justice to the left to cross the Seine at Pont Neuf. Hardly arrived on the other side, it had to be a confusing picture for the passersby, as four Shapes raised the façade and, arrived at the top, disappeared over the roofs. Adeláire gave it a slight smile at the thought before she prepared herself for the ever-increasing leaps. Here the streets were broader and thus the house facades were further apart. It required a more attentive approach in the parkour.

Before, beside and behind her, she could make out the three men who were concentrating on the way as well. Arno had taken the lead after crossing the Seine. His black cloak ruffled behind him as he spread his arms wide to a neck-breaking Leap-of-Faith-like pike from the top of a chimney down to a balcony on the other side. He turned halfway around his body axis and prevented a crash only in the last second. He groaned as he climbed the parapet, then climbed the façade in the same movement.

Adeláire could feel her heart beating to her throat, and she was looking for an alternative route for herself. Absent, she only half noticed that Verne and Francesco did it equally. On the other side, they closed up to Arno, who was waiting for them at the end of the roof.

"You do know you're a nasty poser, don’t you?" Verne's breath was still a bit heavy. This, however, did not detract him from a muttering tone.

Arno responded only with a nonchalant smile.  "I can do it, so I do it." 

Verne merely responded with a snort before he sank into the squat and devoted his attention to the building on the other side of the road.  "Ok, that’s it?"

Adeláire, Arno and Francesco did the same as Verne and followed his gaze. Adeláire noticed how Arno's eyes closed and seemed to concentrate, before his eyes explored the surroundings sharply.  "Well, there are not as many guards as suspected. But enough that we attract attention like one-legged dogs." He had lowered his voice and seemed thoughtful. 

"We should split up and explore the area. I suggest you go with Francesco and I join Adeláire. Then each group has a... gifted... with it." Verne's considerations were meaningful. And yet he couldn’t bite back the mocking undertone at the end.

Arno didn’t seem to want to go into it any further. He still focused the building before he finally rose and nodded.

"This seems to me a good plan. But as I said, make sure no one sees you." He let his eyes wander over everyone. "And don’t kill anyone."

Adeláire finally answered Arno's gaze as she rose. She didn’t know if she really could hold neutrality, but she hoped very much.

"Innocent flesh, you remember for sure." She saw the muscle that jerked at his jaw, before he turned away without a word and looked for his way over to the other roof.

Verne sighed softly as he finally rose beside her. "So if you want to get rid of him completely, then you're on the best way to achieve this. Just do us all the favor and postpone this later. We need an amicable working atmosphere, okay?" With which he jostled gently her shoulder.

Adeláire briefly massaged her painful forehead before she nodded mutely. Verne was right. Disharmony they could use the very least at the moment. She pretended to apologize to Arno when this was over.

Adeláire and Verne struck a wide arc around the facades of the building where Bonaparte had set up his office before his departure. Over and over again her senses pulsed over and analyzed the number of guards and servants. Open windows and doors, as well as passages and possible underground accesses, were checked as well as patrol routes. It was certainly not an impenetrable fortress. But with the challenge of not being sighted, the task of entering the building got even more difficult.

A while later they all met on the roof, from where they had started. Arno and Francesco were as ruminative as Adeláire and Verne.

"So, anybody any ideas?" Verne sat comfortably cross-legged on the flat roof and looked up waiting for the others, which finally followed his gesture.

"The house is not a fortress. Nevertheless, they are careful to ensure that Bonaparte's office is not illegally entered. We can’t just sneak in and hope that we somehow find a gap. We have to think of something more skillful." Francesco had brought the insights of everyone to a simple point.

"A distraction maneuver, perhaps? Any kind of surprise that at least escapes the guards from the house?" Adeláire was not really sure about her idea. But at the moment it was called to collect approaches.

Verne clicked skeptically.  "Hm, too uncertain. We can’t do such a great uprising on our own, so that it can attract all the guards. Above all, the uncertainty as to whether it would really be enough to lure out enough of the guards. And I don’t know how the others see it, but I personally wouldn’t like to inaugurate more people." Francesco and Arno nodded mutely.

"So well, what possibilities would we have?"

"We should blind ourselves into the crowd." Arno had not sat down but crouched in a relaxed squat, where he now shifted the weight.

Adeláire looked up at him and quite noticed his short, amused smile before the seriousness returned to his facial expressions. 

"Come on, settle your skirmishes when this is over. Serious suggestions, please", it came gently annoyed from Verne.

Arno's eyes let off Adeláire and he devoted himself to his friend.  "That was a serious proposal. In my opinion, we should blend us disguised under the mass. It’s best to use uniforms of guards. You know, don’t attract attention, and so." That gave Arno a short grin.

"That says exactly the right one. I only remember the Hall aux Blés. This ‘don’t attract attention’ is almost legendary." Verne waved a hand in Arno's direction before rubbing his smooth-cut chin thoughtfully.  "Per se not the worst idea. The only question is how do we approach uniforms of guards? So, without killing them and provoking unintended attention?”

Thoughtful silence continued, while Adeláire returned her gaze back to the house. Concentrated, she drew the eyebrows together, rose into a crouch and peered over the edge of the roof. Her senses pulsed and her head ached with effort to reach her goal. As if torn from the wind, the conversation of the guards blew far below to her ear.

"Let's have another drink before we get into the bunk. We'll have a few more hours until changing of guard."

"But you pay, Jerôme. I took all the rounds yesterday."

"It’s Thomás’s turn!"

"Not at all!"

Adeláire's gaze followed the three young men as they turned around the corner, pushing each other toward the nearest café.

"Adeláire?" Arno asked in her back. Something inside her twitched in the way he pronounced her name and her fingers clenched around the roof edge.

"What if we follow the men at one of the Guard detachments and make it look like a robbery? Perhaps they are ashamed enough not even to report it to their Superiors." Adeláire turned back to the three other Assassins and met thoughtful looks.

"That would be a rather embarrassing incident, however, that they all wanted to keep it secret." Verne's objection was rhyme or reason, until Adeláire came up with an idea that made her smile.

Her green eyes sparkled: "What if they had all been tricked… by a girl...? This is certainly something that no man would want to confess. And certainly not at all to his Superiors." A brief, general silence followed by Verne, who bopped Arno beside him while grinning at Adeláire.

"This girl can sometimes be such a little witch." This actually made Adeláire laugh a little, before a lump once again formed in her throat, due to the odd inspecting look of Arno.

"Well, that’s probably true," he murmured softly. There followed a brief silence, while all seemed to reflect on Adeláire's suggestion. Arno looked at her so intensely that it almost made her pull up her shoulders defensively.  "Personally, I think this idea is too dangerous. It exposes you in a way that we may not be able to catch. Too many uncertainties that could destabilize such a situation."

Adeláire blinked briefly at these statements.  "Excuse me, you're just acting like I only yesterday got my blade." She could not keep the indignation out of her voice. "You haven’t seen too much of me yet. But what you know should be suffice enough to know, that I can resist my skin."

Something burned deeply in Arno's eyes, which Adeláire couldn’t interpret. A sullen silence entered the troupe. Francesco lowered his eyes and head and fiddled at his bracer. Verne rubbed his neck embarrassed.

"Arno, let the past rest. Adeláire is well trained and when she says she gets it, she gets it." That caused Dorian to turn his gaze fulgurous to Verne.

"That opinion was ..." he seemed to swallow the rest as he lowered his head again and the hood overshadowed his features. His hands closed briefly before he consciously relaxed.  "All right then. But she does not do it alone. We'll provide decent coverage." His voice sounded rough. And his facial expression emptied as he lifted his gaze back to Adeláire.  "No unnecessary risks. If they don’t let themselves in on a surprise, then break it off."

Adeláire blinked confused. Her gaze wandered back and forth between the three men. Verne gave her a soft nod to understand, that she should simply go on this "condition".

"I did not plan to do it on my own, or put my life at risk by means of unnecessary risks." Her green eyes sank openly into the brown of Arno's. "Thereon you have my word."

A silent nod on his side before he rose.  "Good, then we should find out when and where we can surprise a changing of the Guard."

Adeláire also rose and only after the end of the movement she did realize how close she had been positioned herself at Dorian.  "If everything doesn’t deceive me, the patrol, which I could observe before, disappeared in this direction."

She indicated past Arno along the road. The short press of her left hand in his right she replied as inconspicuously as he had set it. If Verne and Francesco noticed something, then they left nothing note. Smoothly, the two left their way to the right and left and sloped down the façade. Dorian gave her another quick look before he followed his friends.

On the road, the three male Assassins disappeared as the proverbial shadows in the cover. In the meantime, Adeláire stalked openly on the busy street and spread out her senses. Meanwhile, she nuzzled at the neckline of her blouse until she was satisfied with the visibility of the first sign of her breasts. She pushed the hood to the back of her neck and straightened the brown curls into a more acceptable hairstyle. She wondered whether she should give her weapons to one of her brothers. But she decided that in times of Revolution it was not uncommon even for women to carry weapons.

At last she found the trace of the three young guards. They enjoyed the last rays of a slowly sinking sun on the terrace of a café and had a wine bottle circling. Adeláire put on her most charming smile and added her steps towards the three something swayed in the hip.

"Oh hello there, you handsome three. What is there to celebrate with you so great? Is a woman … allowed… to participate? "

All three put down their glasses and turned confused glances at the woman with such a speech. Adeláire retained her charming smile and pulled a chair to the table before one of the three resumed his language. She put her left forearm on the table so that her bracer with the blade didn’t fall too much into the eye. Her right arm she supported on the elbow and snuggled her chin into the palm of her hand. Her gaze wandered from one guard to the next and waited, that they found the ability to speak again.

A sudden swoop went through the three and they grinned at each other before they shouted the waitress to serve another glass. "Men", Adeláire shot through her mind before she made the three guards as drunk as never before in their lives.

This targeted undertaking didn’t take too much time either. Already after a short while the three babbling nonsense more than anything else and the looks began to veil. Adeláire decided that it was now about time and she rose with a played wavering.

"Uhh gentlemen, I think I have to say goodbye slowly. It's is only me, and my way home is still long." She acted as if her tongue was too heavy to speak more clearly. And as hoped for, her choice of words seemed to work, as one of the three also rose from the table.

"I will accompany you, my lady. In times like these ... no lady can go home…alone ..." His speech was always accompanied by a small hiccup.

"No, I will accompany her!" the second young man protested.

"Nothing at all you will. You…you.. old litterbug… I'll do it!" The last of the three joined. Adeláire had to smile inside, however to the outside she simply raised her hands placatory.

"Well gentlemen, do not argue .. You can accompany me all three. Then .. then I feel so safe.. like.. like.. in Eva's lap.. Yes, exactly.." Adeláire joined the light alcohol babble and hoped that it was not too exaggerated or set up.

"That.. M’lady.. is a.. EXCELLENT idea! That's how we do it!" Why he thought he had to yell at her, escaped Adeláire's imagination. But for the moment she had achieved what she needed to achieve. Quick as a flash she let her eyes scan the roofs and dark hiding places and found what she was looking for; the familiar shadow of a crouching assassin, who might have been a water-spit. She could at the distance not figure out, who it was. But the short nod registered her as sign, that all were in position.

With the three in tow, she had no great trouble to add to her course also something wavering. When the men behind her broke into one of the revolutionary songs, she intervened for camouflage. Adroitly, Adeláire led the three into quieter streets and alleyways, until they reached an abandoned courtyard. A small fountain pattered quietly, and a cat mewed protesting over this nightly disturbance.

"Do you know... M’lady... you are real... beautiful... have you… ever said that... before?"

Adeláire suddenly found herself in a weary embrace of one of the men. Faltering and yet purposeful, he urged her to a house wall and his breath came close to hers.

"Yes... no... well... thank you...", Adeláire stammered while trying to avoid the lips of the young guard. Distracted, she spread her senses and hoped to explore whether her brothers were already near. She was all the more frightened and relieved when a dark shadow was set up behind the keen-spirited Guard. Adeláire gave him a little push, and before this man knew, a strong arm lipped his breath away.

Arno let the limp body sink to the ground and then grabbed his wrists silently, to pull him into the middle of the courtyard. There, Verne and Francesco had already taken care of the other two guards. Adeláire breathed a sigh of relief and absentmindedly buttoned her blouse a little further.

In quiet agreement, they discharged the guards of their uniforms and finally tied their hands and feet. They did not use gags, so that the men could call for help as soon as they awoke. With a last glance, to see whether they had collected all the important things, they disappeared into the sewers like shadows in the deepest night.

They found one of the transitional areas, which, exceptionally, was not populated by beggars, thieves or extremists. They decided that their own clothes and weapons were hiding well enough here and hurriedly slipped into their camouflage. Only Adeláire, meanwhile, waited at a discreet distance for them to finish, and she was already thinking about the way it might be for her to go undetected to Bonaparte's office.

"Well, that would be step two of our campaign ‘office infiltration’. What do we do now with Adeláire? She can’t simply wait outside till we're done."

"Hmm, why not?" It could not be identified, if Arno really meant this consideration or not.

"So now, really, man…" Verne's tone swung between amused and indignant.

"What? Come on. How are we going to put her there undetected?"

 Adeláire stepped to the edge of the elevated platform and looked down at the three.  "Excuse me, I'm here and present. Could you please discuss this with me and not decide over my head?"

It was Francesco who broke through the awkward silence.  "What if we pose her as prisoner? She has tried to steal us and now we have to take her personal details and interrogate her if she has any accomplice. That should be enough, right?"

Verne grinned up broadly at Adeláire.  "If she unbuttons her blouse again, it may work."

Adeláire rolled her eyes only in the absence of an object that she would have liked to throw at Verne. Francesco didn’t even acknowledge this objection, and Arno allowed to be noticed something only with a furtive smile around his mouth

"Well, let's go," Dorian came before leaving the sewer to Bonaparte's office.

When they left behind the sewer, Adeláire allowed her hands tied up and linked arms by Verne and Francesco. Rapier and pistol Arno took over and stuck both loosely and quite attainable into his own belt. He went ahead and explored the surroundings. If one of the four was nervous, they didn’t let it stand out.

At the gateway to the inner courtyard arrived, the two Guards stopped the small group. Adeláire began to fight against the two handles for her upper arms, as if she were discharged against her will.

"Stop, stand still!" One of the men barked threateningly. "What business do you have with this woman?"

Arno walked two or three steps toward the guards and straightened his shoulders.  “The woman tried to steal us. And as we were on our way to marshall our service, we took her at once to be able to interrogate her."

The guard past a glance thru Arno to gaze at Adeláire.

"I've tried nothing! They lie! So-and-so! All three!" She gave her words a wide accent and concealed her miscellaneous phraseology. She added a vehement fight against being restrained, that it elicited a frown of the Gateguard:

"You should better bring this bucking wild cat inside. Otherwise, she'll still escape you."

Verne gave her backside a well-dumped blow, which still gave her a dull sound.  “Well, a real beast, is she here. We had us limping a bit." Adeláire acknowledged this by pinching Verne the heel of her boot on the foot-instep. She smiled with satisfaction, as he bent over and gave a hissing "Merde".

"Come on, make it. Before anybody twigs at how frightful bungling our soldiers acting." The sound of the Guard growled aggressively and the four hurriedly crossed the gate.

"Was that really necessary?" Verne whispered in the still hissing sound in her ear.

"Do not deal out, if you can’t bear the echo", it came back from her smugly smiling and also whispering.

"Your little cabbages could have cost us our camouflage. Enough now. Concentrate." Dorian's tone was low, so that only the right ears could catch the words. The humorous sarcasm was missing and the cutting timbre didn’t miss its effect. Everyone hushed in silence.

Determined they headed for Bonaparte's Office. On the way crossing Guards they nodded at least briefly, as they stroked the stairs and corridors. And, of course, the door to the premises was secured by two more Guards. Arno's steps slowed down. His shoulders took a tense line, and Adeláire could only guess what he was furiously thinking about, what kind of story he now serves up these two.

Arrived at the two, the Guards eyed the group suspicious. Her hands didn’t go to the weapons, but the one with the Halberd embraced the shank somewhat more firmly.

"What do you want with this one here? Bonaparte's Office is for all restricted area."

Arno spread out his hands in a jovial gesture and put on just such a smile. 

"We know that, of course. But all the other rooms are occupied and we actually ran out of paper and ink. Bad conditions for an interrogation, which could bring out a criminal ring that has othering us a long time. So we thought we could use the seclusion and tranquility from the Commandant's office." Arno winked intently. "He does not need to know. Egypt is so far away."

The guards watched Dorian suspiciously and then exchanged the same look with each other. When they again turned their attention to their counterpart, the hand of the speaking Guard rested on the hilt of his rapier.  "You’re freaking shitting me, right? No paper and ink? And so you want to use the supplies and the Quarters of the Commandant? You can’t be all there. Lock the woman into the cellar, get the stuff and do the interrogation tomorrow morning."

Adeláire could feel Verne's and Francesco's fingers twitching briefly around her upper arms. They mirrored, what was going on at the moment in herself. They were so close to their goal. And now they noticed that they had not thought about excuses why they were going to enter the office. Almost it was to excuse Arno, that in their haste nothing better had occurred to him. He tried to continue the jovial way and manner.  "Come on, men. When the little one sings, we enter your names into the report and you can have a slice from the awardcake. Who would we be if we could not share success with our Brothers?"

Again the two guards looked at each other.  "What the hell, Bertrând, the Commandant will never notice, and who knows, perhaps she really sings. We could use a bit of recognition."

The addressed "Bertrând" snorted abjectly, but he took his hand from his rapier's hilt.  "You and your ambitions are wont to be something under the Commandant. Hit that out of your head finally. There will never be anything like this." He paused briefly as he looked at the group again. "Well, as an absolute exception. You will put your nose in nothing there, which is nothing for you. And only paper and ink! Everything else is taboo."

Adeláire had to suppress almost spasmodically a grin when Arno actually saluted and let out a distinctly audible "Qui, mon Lieutenant.” She didn’t dare to look at Verne, but she could well imagine, that he was just like herself. The so-titillated nodded only grimly and opened the way for them. At last, inside the Office, everyone waited until the doors closed behind them before they disbanded their formation.

"Qui mon Lieutenant?" came the promptly quiet chuckling from Verne.

"So what? Camouflage is finally everything. Or would I rather have him cut my blade into the throat?"

With an almost haughty gaze, Arno freed himself of the silly military hat, and went through the dark brown hair, visibly with a sigh of relief. Adeláire refrained from a comment. The one from Verne had been quite enough. Francesco freed her from the shackles and as if to a mute signal, the four in the room swarmed and subjected him to a systematic search.

The four, highly concentrated, shifted through all the papers in drawers, shelves and boxes. They found lists of informants, service plans, travel plans. But nothing gave evidence of artifacts or secret searches of them.

"Nothing can be found in this goddamn office,” finally came growling from Verne after quite a while.

Adeláire was studying travel plans and comparing them with troop movements of the units assigned to Bonaparte. Much of it came from the time when he went against Austria. Frowning, she wondered why nothing could be found about the Egyptian Campaign. Why should he hide these documents or even take them with him?

"We must find connections. He will not have marked his secrets with a sign or a map." Arno's voice at the other end of the room sounded tense. Everyone in the room felt that time was running out. At some point, the guards at the door would expect results of the "interrogation".

Adeláire stretched out on the chair at the desk and felt her shoulders protest. She shook out her writing hand, with which she had copied documents and recorded notes of information for what felt like hours. Tired, she massaged her forehead and out of a simple reflex, her senses spread out in the room. Confused, blinking, she raised her eyes and tried again to concentrate. But the flickering at the edge of her perception had disappeared.

"Arno?" He didn’t turn to her as he continued to flip through documents. Only a questioning “Hm?” indicated, that he had heard her.

"Your senses are sharper and more trained than mine ..."

With raised eyebrows, he now turned to her and frowned.

Verne and Francesco paused in their search, first glancing at each other before their gaze alternated between Adeláire and Arno.  Verne begged, "Please do not tell me that you have not examined the space first with your gift."

"No, of course we have not done that. We gave up our minds when we put on these adorable uniforms."  Whether Arno wanted to fill his tone deliberately with so much sarcastic sharpness remained unclear. He closed his eyes, and Adeláire could feel the tingling sensation on her neck as his senses touched her. With his eyes still closed, he leaned his head gently as if he perceived something that could not be exactly grasped.

"Something ..." he murmured softly to himself.

"I think you have to come over here. It felt like it slips through your fingers if you approach it out from the wrong angle." Arno just nodded, moving slowly, groping toward her. Adeláire would have liked to know how he achieved to use his senses during the movement.

Arno rounded the desk several times, and Adeláire felt how he emitted impulses from time to time to get behind the secret.  "Mhm, there seems to be a secret compartment. The mechanism traverses the entire construction of the desk. And the withdrawal seems to stem from the fact that opening it up is a mystery. It almost reminds me of Saint-Denis. Use the wrong keyhole and it will cost you your life."

Verne, Francesco, and Adeláire had resigned from the table, instinctively stepping back more steps regarding Arno's ending considerations.

"You mean it's kind of a bomb?" Verne's tone swayed amused and shocked.

Arno sank behind the table and took off the gloves of his uniform. Gently, he stroked the underside of the desk and seemed to concentrate intensively.  "That’s probably unlikely. Bonaparte would not risk ravaging his own office. But maybe something like, that it destroys the information in the secret compartment. If only…" His voice sank to a murmur before he closed his eyes again and continued to palpate the underside.

Adeláire unconsciously stopped the air. Cautiously, she also spread her senses, not to disturb Dorian. She only got a shimmering blip of what he probably perceived before this particular inner eye. Cautiously, his fingertips glided over tracks of the mechanism, before finally paused, hovering, giving the three waiters a glimpse.  "On which our luck today has not decided to be a bastard..."

Adeláire sensed Verne and Francesco beside her hold a breath as well than Arno pressed the secret point of the mechanism. For a short time nothing happened before a click and creak began. Slowly, finally, the desk plate began to dissolve from the rest of the table, elevating itself by the mechanism of it. Underneath, she released the true plate and a hollow space, filled with other documents.

As for a common sign, all four in the room breathed out and let taut shoulders sink. Cautiously, Arno reached for the resulting space and dispatched the documents to the wrong work table, which now lay two feet on a metal pedestal over the other. Verne and Francesco were just about to join Arno at the table when a fist vehemently thundered at the door.

"How long do you still need in there? The maid has already asked twice if she can aerate." That sounded quite like the voice of the 'Lieutenant'. Hastily, they exchanged glances before Verne soothingly lifted his hands.  "I'll do that. Take care of the documents. And... hurry up...” he said, opening the door only so far that he could squeeze himself through and disappearing outside.

Arno, Francesco, and Adeláire spread around the strange desk and began to pick the documents apart. If Adeláire had not already had a headache, now definitely one would begin. It was not as such comprehensive information as they had hoped. But it became clear that Bonaparte had not just recently been searching for Pieces of Eden. Saint-Denis only had been one of the many traces he had pursued.

"What is all this crazy stuff?" came from a confused Francesco. "I mean, I've heard of the Eden apple. And that Mentor Auditore kept him safe back then. But this? A cloth that Jesus raised from the dead? Seriously?" Adeláire looked up and let her eyes wander from Francesco to Arno. The latter was the only one of them who already had experienced two artifacts in action. His response was correspondingly low.

"After what I’ve seen, whereto the sword and the lamp were capable of, I think a lot is possible regarding such artifacts,” Arno stated, his voice low. 

Adeláire again devoted herself to the jumble of research that spread before her.  "All right, everything here speaks volumes about Bonaparte's researches. But there is no evidence that he has actually found something. I have the feeling we overlooked something."

Concentrating, they continued to probe the documents. Francesco drew out one of the books, which was obviously one of Bonaparte's diaries. They barely noticed Verne returning to the room.

"Did you find something?" With great strides, he joined them at the desk and looked out over the jumble of documents.

"Nothing... it simply will not show anything concrete." Adeláire felt the frustration rising not only in her voice, but also in her chest.

"What the hell...” came from Arno.

Three questioning eyes turned to him as he sat up with a letter in his hand straightened behind the desk.

"A letter .." he lifted it briefly to the nose to lower it again, "…evidently from a lady. She writes Bonaparte that the Artifact was sent from Saint-Denis to Cairo and that he should continue his search there."

Adeláire's eyebrows shot up.  "From whom is the letter?"

Arno's facial expressions were gloomily thoughtful.  "He's just signed with 'E'." He folded the document again and weighed it thoughtfully. "I wonder whether it has anything to do with this Lady Eve, which was revealed to me through Rose's memories in Saint-Denis back then." His last sentence was spoken more thoughtfully to himself, than to his friends. They exchanged simply confused looks, until Adeláire butted in to ask.  "Who is Lady Eve?"

Arno looked up at her, his frown fading just slowly.  "I've been wondering about that since then. I’ve never been able to find the slightest reference to her again. And believe me, whenever I am lucky enough to get a Templar in my hands, I have researched for her. In Rose's memories, he had been instructed to give the artifact to her instead of Bonaparte. Since then, this lady has disappeared from the ground."

There was a brief silence before Francesco spoke for the first time in this office.  "Well, that shows us at least that we were correct with the assumption that Bonaparte invaded Egypt because of the artifact. And we can only hope and pray that the brotherhood has kept it there safely and withstand him. The question remains, does he already have one? "

Adeláire turned back to the documents and tried to get a certain order into them. With rather moderate success. Bonaparte seemed to have gathered wild information-snippets and had failed in an attempt to bring them into context. The only handful trace had probably given him the letter of this "E".  "I think if he had already had one, he wouldn’t have set out into this crusade. We must not forget what financial immensity devours such an undertaking."

Arno nodded to her remarks while still weighing the letter in his hands.  "Adeláire is right. Bonaparte is a pragmatic and goal-oriented Commandant. He wouldn’t risk such resources unnecessarily."

Again, a brief silence entered, before Verne broke through this time.  "Well, what now? Strike the sails and research elsewhere?"

Arno looked thoughtfully at the jumble of documents and finally put the letter back into it. Gently he pushed it all together again and then went into the crouch to relocate the desk back again in its original state.  "We should stick to our plan and investigate Bonaparte's villa. Perhaps there we'll find clues that tell us more." As he rose again, he met three thoughtful looks, each in his own way. Francesco finally nodded silently while Adeláire continued to eye up Arno thoughtfully.

It was Verne who finally took the floor.  "A thin track. But I think we Assassins have followed in the past already much thinner ice. Sometimes more or less successful." He grinned briefly before turning away and looking for his uniform hat. Then he picked up the rope with which they had bound Adeláire’s hands at the beginning of their undertaking. With a wider grin than before, he turned to her and stretched the knit twice with a dull snap.

"So then, let's get out of here. Would you be so kind, dearie?" Adeláire sighed and rolled her eyes, but stretched out her wrist acquiescently. Oftentimes, Verne enjoyed certain moments just too much.

It was late night, when their feet finally entered the familiar ground of Café Théâtre. They had freed their things from the sewers and didn’t take the trouble to remove the uniforms. Unanimously and without big discussion, they had decided to keep the uniforms. Perhaps they were still useful to them at the infiltration of Bonaparte's Villa.

Arno offered them all rooms to spend the night. Even though the barracks of the Sanctuary were not far away, a private bed was still the favorite solution for each of the four. And it made the collaboration much easier if Arno didn’t have to ask Madame Gouze to send a message to the sanctuary each time.

Adeláre remained hesitantly on the threshold of her room. Verne and Francesco said goodbye without hesitation and closed the doors behind them. Arno turned away from the rooms of his two friends and wanted to go past her in the direction of his own bed. The flickering of the candle in his hand brightened his questioning features. Embarrassed, Adeláire rubbed a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened her shoulders  "Arno... I... wanted to apologize." Her voice sounded brittle. And it didn’t help that he raised the eyebrows confused.

"For what?"

"Because of... innocent flesh... and so. It was in no way appropriate and to be honest, I do not know why I said something stupid like that." Uncomfortably, she wrapped her arms around her center of the body. But somehow it didn’t offer her the security that she had hoped for.

A gentle smile was also filled with warmth by the candle flame.  "Accepted." She saw the little movement and hesitation, then stop. "Sleep well... Adeláire..." The gentle sound of speaking her name once again sent shivers down her spine.

Before she could hold onto, she walked up to him with two quick steps. Her hand came to rest on his evenly beating heart, while her lips found his at a far too brief kiss. She thanked all that was present at the moment that he didn’t stir to her gesture. Whether out of surprise, or from reserve. It gave her the strength to resign just as quickly, to give him a short smile, and to close the door behind her with a sigh of relief.

She felt her wild beating heart almost burst her breast while she leaned her back against the closed door and tried to breathe. Mutely, she prayed, that he was not knocking now. She knew she couldn’t resist it. She breathed a sigh of relief again as she heard his departing steps and the closing of a door. And yet, something rumored in her with the knowledge that this was not yet over.

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