December Sucks, But I'll Make it Better - Pistols at Dawn Chapter 7

Poor Les. She's had a hard time dealing with racism and racist white guys are her dead end job. Hopefully, 2020 will make it better for her and her border hopping friends - and, if November doesn't turn out good for her, she'll be back on her Twitter decrying institutional white supremacy.

Elysia, the wonderful Great Satan, is back at it. She starts off Chapter 7 with this glorious piece of wisdom:

It had been five months since Arno’s Initiation. His once lionized presence that had been so pungent in the cavern chambers had dwindled to nothing but a mere thought. Despite this win he achieved, Bellac remained in solitary of the boy’s progress, unkeen on letting others dictate or guide him in any other direction but his own. What remained a large step in Arno’s life was closed off to me the minute I gave him up that day I brought him.

And that was probably for the best.

Leave it to Elsyia to see Arno's presence as 'pungent', when she was not supposed to be the one to bring him to the Assassin hideout in the first place. She is angry that he is naturally talented while she is not; she had to get her powers and prestige by brute force. Elysia is angry at Black for being a proper mentor, but not to worry: Elysia will be the 'Fox' to educate this 'boy' in the proper way of assassination. Why? Because Elysia went through all the motions in Renaissance Italy, being accepted by Ezio Auditore and in turn being accepted by the French Brotherhood without any objections.

What would be 'for the best' is Elysia being hung off of a bridge. She's no use to anyone, and, if the chapters have shown me anything thus far, she doesn't care a lick about the French people or their struggle (and, on a racial note, it makes sense, as Les is not white and doesn't care for them very much).

I descried him on several occasions within the Brotherhood, fleeting glimpses of his back or side mostly with that tied, scarlet-red ribbon holding his hair. Arno was never abandoned nor alone, always at his Mentor’s side whenever he was within the confinements of the hideout; a young man with a young face and young experiences, surely everything would be done to shape him into this…..great assassin he had the potential of becoming. Who knows, maybe Bellac was actually doing the right thing, for once. 

I'll reiterate this: Les has the 'Lore Down Pat', and she wants to 'fix' Unity by depriving Arno of his own story and character arc. She replaces him with her abominable Mary Sue who constantly denigrates him and sees him as human waste. It figures that everyone absolutely adores her bar Black, who, once again, is correct in seeing right through her.

Bellac’s face frequented my view multiple times throughout the weeks, but I let it slide on the account that he harangued me less and less of our accustomed routine. Oddly enough, we accepted each other’s company without complaint, and at times that rose brows with the rest of the Masters when they saw our changed display. It was never questioned what we had shared right after the Initiation, almost as if everyone refused to expose an established wound. 

Oh, really? You accepted his presence, Elysia? How dare he be in the presence of a goddess. Every other Mentor absolutely adores you sans him.

No, what you 'shared' after Arno's initiation was a recruit with infinitely more talent, drive, and charisma than you, and you don't like the limelight being taken away. As Les and her co-authors (mostly Les) have said, it's 'amusing' that someone like me is getting so irritated with Elysia. What this little Latinx doesn't realize, though, is that said hatred arises from someone undeserving of the place they're given in this plot.

Aside from Bellac’s nasty attitude, I would give credit where credit is due: Bellac had over-achieving credentials despite his personality flaws. He was a resourceful and assertive member, and showed his abilities well whenever we went out to the field when we had first met. I got used to his crude humor over the years, and his blunt explanations served me a good laugh from time to time over trivial things; we agreed on a lot of issues pertaining to classes and law reform, but even when we disagreed we never went to the extensive lengths to hold it over each other’s heads (as we did now). We had battling logic on several missions but always somehow agreed to take stealth over any other tactic; Bellac and I accepted our variances and we worked well together almost fluidly, I dare say we were the perfect duo to tackle high-risk missions at a successful high-rate when they were presented…..until a point. 

Let me get this straight: every previous chapter has you calling Black a hard-ass, and yet here you are complimenting him. Of course it's all one-sided: he has to get used to you, while you don't have to change your attitude at all. You worked 'perfectly' together, and now you are bitter enemies. Why? I guess Black saw through your shit, saw how demanding and oppressive you are to others, and concluded you shouldn't be anywhere near the Creed.

Words of advice, Les: when you write your Great Satan hating Black for completely valid reasons, it doesn't help your case when you ret-con it a chapter later. It's shitty writing, and none of your co-authors caught this.

By the way, his 'nasty attitude' is him calling you out. You don't like it, and so you have to see him as the enemy.

A mission had gone wrong, and a lot of assassins died.

Guess you weren't the 'perfect duo', then.

Bellac insisted something could’ve been done to overturn this outcome, to save half of his squad of trained assassins that had been caught in the fray while my team of James and Stephen at the time managed escape. Fate had planned differently, and Bellac took offense to that; something in his personality…shifted. To an insufferable degree. Like that incident alone had awoken a slumbering secret in his mind, and his once approachable demeanor and occasional, playful smile was gone.

I didn’t like this new Bellac….or this preexisting version of himself. 

Hey, Lore Down Pat. Black was already disenfranchised with the Brotherhood ever since Shay fucked up the Colonial Brotherhood. That is why he saw the truce as a pipe dream: the Templars wouldn't hold up their end of the bargain, and the Brotherhood would lose their grip on reality by thinking of their utopia. In this fic it's ret-conned because of Elysia's presence. Her Baguette Boyband, one who openly admits he sucks cock in 1791 (this was not a time of pride parades, Les) matters more to her than Black's thoughts or the Brotherhood.

The Brotherhood has to bend to her will, because she demands it. It also should be pointed out Elysia is a major sexist, while complaining about sexism: she hates and denigrates men, while saying it's wrong for men to do the same to women. She never respects her male colleagues and when Arno comes around, she hates it how he has natural talent and skill, and does whatever she can to drive him away from his lineage.

Try that for 'Lore Down Pat': preventing Arno from ever being an Assassin (he doesn't own the Café, either, Elysia took that role) and replacing him with a Strong Female Character.

And it wasn’t only with me he changed demeanor; Quemar and Bellac had been close once upon a time. Now, it was common to catch Quemar sitting alone in the main hall of the upper floor, a book in his hand while an empty chair on his left was occupied by someone else that wasn’t the half-French man. Beylier and Sophie had their arguments with the shaggy assassin, but they too expressed their concerns to him directly in hopes that he would understand their worry, yet none of that played out well whenever Bellac got defensive.

Not only does Arno get cucked big time, Black is, too. His skills as a Master Assassin and his field expertise are thrown under the bus - and all because of Elysia. Black, not Elysia, causes a rift between the Mentorship for reasons I don't know - oh, wait. I forgot: 'fixing the plot' and 'Lore Down Pat'. Which apparently includes trashing Black's character because he mansplains too much. He 'doesn't like to be criticized', and he lashes out when he is. Does this sound like Bellec, or is it because the author(s) just don't like him like they hate Arno?

Bellac grew guarded, alert, and somewhat…paranoid of everyone that was around him. He wanted to know where everyone was and what they were doing, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stand being questioned every minute of the day of what his micromanaging method had risen to. He turned hostile in his hawk-like methods until one day, I snapped at him; Bellac called me a slur. I threw a book at him. The only Master around to separate us from our brannigan was Beylier. 

What, like 'Gypsy bitch'? You know, Les, for all your want to complain of racism, you sure don't know how the French react - and reacted to - Gypsies during that time. Since Elysia has the 'skin colour' of a Gypsy, it's not going to raise eyebrows to see him throw that 'slur'. Besides, you have a nice habit of acting like one: you steal things that aren't yours and are generally a parasitic element. Black has to act irrational while Elysia is the rational one; he is the racist while she is the anti-racist.

How's it feel to cause such a rift in the Brotherhood, Elysia? Lore Down Pat for sure.

I didn’t like that he cared…so much about things. About issues. About people, the customs, this country. And now, these men we were chosen to spy on. Yet, James battled with me on every front; something about politics, another ethics, morals and code of conduct on all fronts. He questioned again and again, never tired nor faltering of trying to make me see whatever he saw. A true, lawful citizen of France oddly enough. 

No, of course not. How dare he feel a connection to the French homeland and the French people. He needs to be a borderless, globalist cosmopolitan who should let his people be replaced because that's the good thing to do. Right, Les? Because Elysia is just echoing your thoughts here: you don't understand why people have connections to their homelands - provided they are white. It's a tribal thing when it is one of your people, and for Elysia the only people she cares about is her own. She doesn't give two shits about the French. As I said before, she'd happily see them all die.

I handed him the folder, slapping it against his straightened chest, “I’m ordering you to do this, and you will do it, James. You are my student; take it.” He inspected the bounded leather, an exhale slowly expelling out and his crystalized eyes scanning within my cowl. A sign that he was frustrated when I saw his freckles flare and I could see the muscle of his neck tighten from how hard he was clenching his jaw.  

He has every right to be frustrated. He's asking you questions and you respond with: I am your Master, and you will obey me. Here, Elysia. Have a whip so you can beat your plantation workers.

“Oui, Master Elysia,” he gently gripped the package with digging fingers, but his venom tone and swiping wrist couldn’t be camouflaged entirely, especially when he rarely used my whole title. I let it slide, watching Stephen and Clement (who instantly recognized our quarrel) right behind him like a pack of adopted cats.

Imagine having three people serve under you as 'The Squad', and whenever they raise questions you proceed to treat them like they're idiots for asking. You aren't being a true mentor; you're castigating them for engaging in deeper, philosophical meanings. You want them to be unthinking automatons who will bend to your will.

The more Elysia speaks, the less she seems like a hero and more like a villain.

Then again….James never steered me wrong. So, why in fact was Mirabeau trying to keep tabs on so many people but assassinate none of them? It wasn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with Austrian spies (whatever they were), or Templars in disguise….Why was this different? 

Gee, Elysia. I thought you knew all there was to know about Mirabeau. I thought Lore Down Pat understood Mirabeau was a member of the Assembly and was keeping correspondence with the King. No, let's forget that: Elysia comes first.

You’re going to get them killed.

You know that, right? 

Yes and yes. But Elysia doesn't give a shit.

These imposed taxes leeched continuously from the struggling civilians, and the stores that were so rampant with businesses were now being cautioned to close early; mobs of people tarnished and invaded several locations of the penurious districts, taking what they could from clothes, to food, to the bread that was becoming the livestock of the city. The riots increased tenfold, as did the national security and the political party that arose to fame: Jacobins.  

Hey, Lore Down Pat. There wasn't just the Jacobins at the time, but also the Girondists and other political factions and clubs. The Committee for General Security and the Committee for Public Safety did not emerge until 1793 proper. Before hand, national 'security' was in the hands of the National Guard.

From what I was informed, there was heavy dispute of what their initial goal was, but it was too early to pinpoint their origin (though stated continuously that they originated straight across from the Assembly building that I had gone to months before). They made themselves known, and were not afraid to expose themselves either; they advocated for fairness, and plagued the streets with violence and ideals that suited best for the conservative members within the group rather than the Paris they were fighting for. Those deemed Royalists (or suspected those who continued the ideal reign of the present king) were struck down to the very cobblestone they dared walk upon, or remained lucky to live in the richer and safer districts. 

Lore Down Pat, this did not happen until the Reign of Terror in 1793-1794. Beforehand, emigrés fled the country and began forming their own counterrevolutionary armies. This is still 1789 (I think), and Lafayette was still a prominent icon and general. You are jumping a solid five years ahead without even realizing it. Did you do your research at all?

If we don’t do something soon…we’ll go under, Charlotte,” Mathias expressed as quietly as possible. It was no match for my hearing as I stood eerily still by the door, leaning my back against the wall. “You must reason with Elysia, please. I’m begging you. We’ve worked so hard to make this work, to let this go to waste.”

Lore Down Pat. Even during the time of financial crisis during the French Revolution, social clubs were immensely popular. Since Arno - no, Elysia - is in charge of the Café, finances should not be a major issue. It's going bankrupt because: 1. The authors think 1789 was the Reign of Terror, and 2. Elysia sucks at finances.

He tolerated my presence more, with the usual snarky scoff and huff whenever he got too boorish. Maduka was merely the silent spectator of this, saying nothing and remaining mute as ever while Pierre smiled nervously and reassured me my reward would be granted no matter the cost each time I paid visit.

Elysia has more respect to a random black woman than she does the native white French. Not only is she sexist, she's a racist.

The shop had risen in its popularity to achieve a significant amount of growth (and one of the ones that survived the city’s purge). The empty tables were plagued and infested with customers, the clinging of utensils on plates sounding off when Pierre and Orfeo collected what remained of the purchases. Maduka remained out of sight, producing as much treats as he could do to satisfy the demand that his daughter, Oya faced at the counter with Gisele who ran the main orders. It wasn’t a surprise; it had three reliable owners taking care of it with such efficiency and grace. This didn’t stop until the late afternoon, then again the shop would open early morning to repeat .

Orfeo's shop manages to remain open during the time of the purges, yet the Café Elysia owns is going tits up. I wonder why, with a matron like her. I also have to wonder why Orfeo's shop is allowed to remain open when anyone accused of hoarding food had their place ransacked and was put to death.

"You need to learn manners or something,” he said while tossing a loaf of bread blindly into the air. I stared at it, watching it with everyone else as it softly thudded against the wooden counter.

I'll say. This bitch disrespects everyone and yet expects them all to treat her reverently.

I moved myself to stand right in front of Orfeo purposely…..and took a slow bite out of my given piece, “…..MMMMMMMM….”

"...........Why don't you fucking get a room." Orfeo blanched with rolling eyes, aggressively taking a bite from his rejected piece as he stepped away. Jacques opened his mouth to say something, but closed it on bequest of Maduka shaking his head.

Jacques is, at this point, an even more annoying, ADHD Léon. He's there to show Elysia's 'humanity', but he's just as fucking annoying. Also, how are you rolling your eyes - a sign of displeasure - with 'blanching', which means you're disgusted?

I thumbed at the table, “……Something like that.” I sat down at this, and he gladly seated himself across, silently inquiring. I refused to give him the truth, “Not a lot of people…..look like me, that’s all.”

Yeah, when you look like a Gypsy in a country that hates them, it helps to use skin whiteners.

"Like Maduka and Oya?" Jacques probed, tilting his head back, "Though I've been to Africa once...there's lots of people that look like them...maybe you're from somewhere farther from the sounds of it."

Again, Les, there were only 4,000-5,000 black people in France at this time, not the 4-5 million of today. Plus, it's funny how the Tokens are the Help.

"Oh, my mother met with someone...I don't remember what. I think she said it was a business meeting? But she kept getting stopped a lot of times, kept saying she was going to go meet with my father." A 'pfft' drawled from him, "I think she was just lying to get them off her back. My father's been dead for a while now."

Oh. This was new.

Les, I don't think you realize you've confirmed how race mixing is bad: a white woman goes with a black man, and the minute he finds out she's pregnant he leaves the bitch at the curb. Burn the coal, pay the toll.

“Um, about that……nope,” he dropped his finger. “We have no food.”

What.

Oh wow. You knew there were financial problems but didn't know there were grain shortages? Damn, Lore Down Pat. You sure do like making things up as you go along, eh?

My eyes narrowed, then I motioned to catch Pierre’s gaze, “Care to explain?”

You should know this, Elysia. But you don't really know much about geopolitics (or history, like the authors), so of course it's shocking. While everyone was stuffing their face at Orfeo's cafe, you acted as if everyone had food during this time.

“Well, you see…” Pierre raked through his greying beard, wearily glancing towards the open doorway, “We normally get our grains around the middle of the month. Normally it’s enough to supply us for the next, but when Maduka and I had gone to retrieve them…err…” He mumbled the later of the sentence, but Maduka stepped forth. 

Here comes the sassy black woman ready to explain to the dumb white man what's what!

As tall as Orfeo, and I dare say more intimidating to address; Maduka hardly spoke a word, as if he and Orfeo shared this telepathy conversation whenever they looked to one another. I don’t believe he minded my presence, but also must’ve had his doubts and objections if it meant I kept taking food freely. He hooked his white apron around his dark hands, as if the fabric were illuminating against his flesh by the way the light from the window was hitting it.

Yes, Elysia, 'taking food freely' in a time when most of France was on subsistence level would be enough to accuse you of being a food hoarder.

“The guards had it confiscated.” Maduka answered firmly with a subtle accent, his gaze hardening. I listened intently, taking in the words of his sudden reveal, “They say we had already taken our share of what the government has been rationing.” It must be serious if it got him to talk. 

You...kinda are? You've got all this food you're stealing from others and selling back to others at knock-down prices (or raise the prices when you feel fit). You're stealing from a limited supply to customers who will be the first to raze your business to the ground once the food runs out. You're all acting as if France has unlimited resources when it clearly does not. What a shocker that reality proves otherwise!

“Which is obviously a lie.” Jacques frowned, tossing his arm up impatiently, “Orfeo gets his supply from a local farmer, the rest of the grains that Paris gets are provided by the government. I just don’t understand it.”

Uh, no. The government was actually moving to control the grain at this point. In 1789 the government had very little control over crop failures. Food hoarding was common, and it had to take government intervention to seize the grain and get it to the mills. Food was still supplied by the market.

“Neither do I, my boy. It’s completely outrageous!” Pierre threw a hand up, “Five times I’ve requested to speak to a superior commander and three times I’ve had a rifle pointed at me instead this entire morning! Is Paris in that dire of a state that the military is moving to steal all the grains?!”

Yeah, motherfucker. It is. Maybe it's time to go outside once in a while? You're lucky you haven't been gutted for your food yet. Lore Down Pat doesn't seem aware that the government had to intervene with food hoarders and had to send out commissioners to see where the food was going.

It wasn’t much of an emergency for Mirabeau, apparently. Rumors spread that the days of individual grain deliveries were being taken away in favor of a government-controlled system. Did they finally pull it off months later?

This contradicts your previous two paragraphs. Individual grain deliveries =/= government intervention. You need to pick which one you want to sell, Lore Down Pat.

And I don't see why Mirabeau wouldn't be concerned. He was a member of the Third Estate - he'd be aware of Paris' and France's situation far more than Elysia does.

Stephen’s hunches were right most of the time; his lack of French hardly hindered his motivation to finish his work, and when I situated myself in the Les Invalides district of France from the last report of his food shortage findings, the situation of what had arisen in the morning had grown out of proportion. 

Reminder this guy doesn't speak a lick in a French in a country that barely speaks English. Oh yeah, he's totally fit for spying in France. 

I'm just so glad Elysia and the rest are acting so shocked at food shortages. It's hilarious, and shows me how much research Lore Down Pat and her friends did.

“I’m not going to wait to find out,” I stated, “You may play dumb with your café squad, but I know what you’re capable of.” He said nothing.

Great Satan loves flexing her skills but doesn't have a single clue what is going on in France. What is she capable of other than being an overpowered Mary Sue?

Orfeo shifted his weight to lean more to the side, overlooking the courtyard, “Then be of some use then, assassin.”

I inhaled. 

Oh no, someone dared defy Elysia and tell her the truth! Looks like she needs to teach those mansplainers a lesson!

I stood up at this, sighing from the sudden revelation of our recent discoveries a year before, “The hoarding of grains has been in hidden practice, and we were trying to figure out why. I was keeping record of it with my team, but we were abruptly pulled from continuing the search. It’s my guess that the practice continued without our surveillance, and now here we are seeing the result.”

“But to make it so publicly with the national guards?” Orfeo rebutted, his dark orbs skimming before falling to my gold, “Even I think it’s fishy if they were trying to remain so ‘low-profile’.” 

Jesus Christ, we're 60,000 words in and these authors don't know what the fuck they're writing. First, Elysia acts like she doesn't know food hoarding/food shortages were happening. Now she does and now it's a problem. Second, the authors can't decide whether individual suppliers of grain or the government is to blame. It cannot be 'hidden in practice' when businesses were destroyed when they were accused of hoarding food. The Café may even go under because of the lack of funds from food and coffee sales. Lore Down Pat just can't fucking decide what she wants to do, because - surprise! - she doesn't know a single thing about French history.

“Then don’t get us caught,” I swung my body about, gripping onto the edge as I directed my face so the light of the setting sun seeped to reveal my face clearly, “And try to keep up.”

So, Elysia and Orfeo take the place of Arno and Élise. I'm not surprised. Everything comes second to the Great Satan.

“Intrud-“ I gripped the lunging lance, and flipped the entire guard over, making him drop to the ground harshly with his own weight. The second rushed with sword in hand, but I met his blade with the stolen lance, sending a low kick to his knee before banging the wooden neck against his temple. He fell automatically from the unmerciful blow-

Words of advice for writing fight scenes, Les. Go watch MMA fighters. Kicking someone 'in the knee', or on the kneecap, is a good way to have your leg broken. You need to kick inside the knee or in a way that will dislodge the knee cap. I don't know if Elysia is using judo or her superhuman strength to throw people over her shoulder, but either way, these fight scenes are as shitty as everything else.

“Argh!” the third soldier readied his grip with his own spear, but it was short-lived; I dug the spiked iron against the decorative loop at the spear’s neck, ramming the two weapons against the polished, wooden desk. One soldier aimed to clutch my neck, but I swiftly ducked, and tripped the man against his comrade. The last standing man sidestepped to avoid the collision, and instead aimed his pistol to the ceiling, reading to fire it to alarm the entire building- 

You...what? What weapons are we using? You have spiked iron - a bayonet, I guess? - with a decorative loop of a spear, and are throwing both on top of a desk. Where you trying to break them/break the man's guard? You've got two guys pinning you down, and you do some weird John Wick thing to throw them off. Le sigh.

“AHH-“ he hissed at the assailing dagger knocking the gun out of his palm. I rushed, and my formed fist met his face directly to deliver the crushing punch. He wobbled before falling back, the five bodies surrounding the rug with documents and used quills scattered among the red rug with the assortment of dropped weapons. 

Yeah. How big are you, Elysia? Superhuman strength or not, why didn't you go after this guy first? Where are you punching him? Why didn't you think he was an issue with the only gun that works? Why didn't he aim it at you? Fuck, no point in asking.

“You’re going to drive the supply; there’s no doubt in my mind we’ll be swarmed if we both head to it suspiciously. With your disguise and a good lie, I’m sure you can figure something out,” I walked ahead.

Not as if you're in suspicious straits already, after going after grain being hoarded out in the open and guards making no secret they're hoarding grain. Logic.

The corrupt elixir around Orfeo’s body secreted into my nose, and it was almost impossible to ignore its reaction from being so close for the first time. The murky cobwebs were almost touchable, tickling the edge of my nose and cheeks to feel it slither along my flesh…..testing. It smelled a lot like…the sodden pavement after a storming morning. My Twilight grew heated of the invasion, its roused nature making my arms and legs tingle, coaxing…..something from this close encounter. God, he needed to move- 

What's this? The Mary Sue is having feelings for a man? How nice that her romance plot will take precedence over Arno's, and how nice she's having some human feelings after all. It's also funny how Elysia, the sexist, always falls in love with a man who makes it his mission to tame the shrew. If that doesn't fit into romance tropes, I don't know what does.

We separated swiftly; Orfeo awaited as I silently made my way up the staircase, avoiding the patrols as much as I could. When they remained unconsciously incompliant did I ease myself over to their proximity, rendering them useless in the vacant rooms I ran across. Another flight of stairs, I prowled with target at hand, staring at the two guards walking up and down the aisle until they both decided to look outside the east balcony overlooking the courtyard. I snuck right behind, grabbing the first man who decided to turn first- 

I want to take a second to re-read this. What, exactly, are you trying to achieve with this prose? 'Unconsciously incompliant'? 'Rendering them useless in the vacant rooms'? They're unconscious. They can't do anything - they are compliant by default. They're already useless.

This is the author(s) attempts to try their hand at expert prose, and it's failing.

“Haah!” his exhale escaped him as I flipped him over my shoulder, smashing my heel against his chest. He gurgled in protest, then jerked unconsciously from the kick to his head.  

This should read, 'I flipped him over my shoulder, and when he was on the ground, I kicked him in the chest'. This implies you kicked him in the chest as you were flipping him over your shoulder. 

Tucked between my fingers were three orbs, and when the rifles pointed, I snapped them down to release the white, hot flares to blind every able body. 

Are these stun grenades, or are you using magic?

We seized as much bags as we could and settled them on the saddles of the animals. With careful and ducking maneuvering to avoid any alarmed guards and main streets, we managed to arrive at the closed café sometime later with no danger awaiting us, nor any hint of trail behind us. We set the horses free once we put every obtained reward inside, instantly doubling the café’s produce for the next couple of months. 

I really do love this logic: stealing from grain hoarders and then hoarding the grain yourself so you can make a profit. Does this remind of of anyone, Les? They're called vulture capitalists - where they'll buy/steal things on the cheap and then sue for reimbursement when things get better. It's also cute to see immortals/non French people steal from the French so they can make a profit off of their meagre wagers. Not only are they racists, they're non-white thieves, to boot.

Sound racist? It's coming from a Latinx, not a white girl. I'll let you figure that one out.

“Suppose that’s what happens after a few hundred years. Personal interests over-weighs the public's, no matter the organization,” he decided to fill in the blank for me, resting his shoulder against the stone wall, looking at me as the moonlight cast him in shadow. I could only see the small glimmer of his eyes, but even then that wasn’t much to look at. 

No, that's your thinking. Your personal interests override the Creed's, which is a violation of the Creed itself. You and your buddy stole a bunch of grain so you can fill your own coffers rather than help those in need. Says a lot, doesn't it?

“Are you surprised?” I lifted my gaze to him, no hint of sarcasm nor berating nature. More like…slight exhaustion, “That’s what humans do; its human nature to be selfish.”

'Muh Human Nature' doesn't excuse your actions, Elysia. You're a sentient being, so the same rules apply to you. You choose to be this way. Whose fault is that? It's not Black's. It's yours.

“It’s every one’s nature; don’t try to flatter yourself out of it,” he quipped readily.

“I wasn’t,” I gave a hard look, and the bags under my eyes grew dense. 

Ah, Elysia getting angry when someone puts her in her place again. Gender equality, my girl. Equal rights, equal lefts.

“Took you a couple of months to admit it. After all my hard work,” I rested my hand on my hip at this. I weighed my options, but I pressed lightly, “Making sure you don’t kill anyone else. It’s a tough job, you know.”

What hard work? You stole from the people of France, a people you don't care about. You've done nothing to alleviate the situation. Everything you've done has been for your benefit only. The only thing that needs to be admitted here is that you're selfish for the sake of being selfish, not because of any self-defense mechanism.

I’ve never seen Orfeo look so….the way his eyes slooooowly rolled over to me, as if the very thing I said were so outlandish, against the law even. The corner of his mouth doing its best to not quirk up, dissatisfied of my subtle wording. Feeling so wronged, yet so called-out as Stephen has mentioned. Yet, he resisted….he resisted some form of happy emotion, battled it like his life depended on it. 

Ironic. Whenever Elysia is wrong, she's never called out - but she's happy to do that to others. She's exempt from criticism (just like her creator) because she's magical, special, and a 'woman of colour'.

“I don’t know-“ I fucking blushed. The minimalist effort, but it was there, grazing my cheeks. Oh.

Oh no.

Aww, isn't this cute? The Mary Sue who fights the patriarchy realizes she likes the dick and wants a good dicking. Everyone's a Lesbian Until Graduation!

Orfeo went quiet at this, studying my face whilst he held one of suspicion; I dared not move. He curled his hand into the hem of his pants, the white of his knuckles popping out of my focus range. He stood still, his dark spheres observing my every movement for something, anything that he could use against me. When I presented nothing, his posture straightened and remained rigid. He couldn’t see it, right? It was…too dark in here- 

This is just hilarious. Elysia, the sexist, melts into a puddle when a guy who doesn't take her shit, who stands up to her. She's getting wet and hot and bothered. The classic 'I'm a tough feminist but when the hot guy comes around oh how I want to fuck him' trope. Actually, no, that's not a trope. That happens to be a real thing. Fantasies and all that - women don't want cucks.

God, what the fuck.

What the fuck.

FUCK. 

Hehe. You're turned on. Admit it, Elysia. Tough girl like you just wants a man to warm her bed.

SLAM.

 “SHUT UP SHUT UP, FUCK! FUCK!!! SHUT UP, STOP STOP STOP!”

Until finally-

 CRUNCH.

My body shuddered, and the pale discoloration of the sun’s ghost stung into my flesh. I looked down, seeing the fabric merely dusted from the crumbled gravel at my feet. My hands were slashed, the blood mixing with the scarf that it was hard to tell what was what. I focused on it, and the sickening feeling of before somewhat vanished, distracting my mind elsewhere. Away from the burning in my eyes, the shuddering of my mouth-

What was….happening to me? 

You're having a mental breakdown because your Mary SUe status can't comprehend you're falling in love with the guy. You hate how your natural instincts are taking over; how your sexuality is awakening. You had that you feel submissive to this guy. In a way, it sounds like the author herself is trying to come to terms with her own sexuality: she's a repressed lesbian, yet fantasizes about a guy giving her a good rump in the sheets.

Adorned in his navy-cloak attire, a red scarf of his own tucked neatly within the confinements of his blouse, and two-set vests that hid his array of weapons well. His gloved fingers wiggled briefly to answer, a cocky grin displayed proudly across his neatly shaven face. He pulled back his hood, revealing himself to me in full, his hair having gotten a bit longer since weeks ago when I had seen him.

“Ahh, there you are~” he grinned, aiming a….as Stephen has called it, a finger-gun toward my direction. “I thought I’d find you here.”

You've done it, Les. You've made Arno Dorian cringeworthy for me. Also, the 'finger gun' motion is a recent thing. Hollywood popularized it along with pop culture in general. Its origin is believed to have originated in the 1800's. Again, a stellar lack of historical research.

And isn't it cute how Arno is doing an UWU anime squiggle? Too bad in-game Arno doesn't act this way.

“Master Elysia, we have all juried and contested this for a good few hours, and it is a decision that was not taken lightly.” Mirabeau began, and navigated his look to Arno with a stern look, “Arno Dorian has shown impeccable and admirable talent in his training, and we are indeed fortunate to bring him into the folds of our union. However, we have arrived to the same conclusion…it is not a simple one.”

I exchanged my glance between Arno and Bellac, Arno just as confused as myself.

“I’m listening,” I continued, befuddled.

“We ask for this long-term favor, taking into account with your own civic duties, and your own team to abide by,” Mirabeau reestablished, and cleared his throat for the next sentence. “Master Elysia, we hereby disclose this: as a Master, you will partake in a joint custody of Arno Dorian with Master Bellac.”

Oh, no. Oh NO



I don't even know why there's joint custody like this was a divorce gone wrong. Arno is already acting like a K-Pop/Otaku fan, making cutesy hand gestures and dialogue squiggles~~ Despite his 'apparent talent', Lore Down Pat is going to have him paired with the Mary Sue, who will teach him all the ways of the Creed - while ignoring her theft of grain so her friend's business can thrive (while her own suffers).

I still don't know how and why Elysia is a Master Assassin/Mentor. She's done nothing to deserve it.

“I’m…..sorry, I must’ve misheard you-“ I cut in.

“Excuse me??” Arno was next.

“Like I said there’s no need to-“ Bellac tried to weigh in.

“We are aware of the complications of this, and believe us we have discussed this thoroughly and rigorously to this conclusion. Master Bellac was briefed in this already,” Beylier snatched the conversation.

Poor Arno. He's going to be stuck in this dysfunctional 'marriage' and he has no right to refuse. Lore Down Pat, in an attempt to rewrite the plot, has already succeeded cucking him.

“The decision is final,” Mirabeau contested, silencing us. “Master Elysia, you will share mentor responsibilities with Master Bellac in serving Arno Dorian, effective immediately. If you wish to know more, or have the details elaborated, there will be time for that tomorrow morning with Master Beylier. Your team of assassins are well equipped to handle their own; Clement is fairly new, but we trust he will be no hassle under Stephen and James when you are absent.” 

This just gets better and better. Elysia, a 'Master Assassin' for no reason other than authorial intent, with her own Baguette Boyband who are all afraid of her (and may secretly despise her), is going to mentor Arno with an actual Master Assassin. Everyone gets cucked in the wake of Magic Brown Girl!

What the hell is THIS.

I don't know. You tell me.

“And if I refuse?” I couldn’t stop myself from saying it.

Quemar was ready for this, and tapped his cane once to the ground to draw my attention to him, “Then we question whether you are adequate enough to handle a team to begin with.” 

Oh, Elysia. You're a Master Assassin. Don't tell me you don't know what the job entails. After all, you happily break the tenets of the Creed whenever you want, as well as steal grain so your friend can make a profit off the backs of the hungry. Now, you're being tasked to train an 'errant' boy you despise. You just can't decide what you want to do. Maybe Orfeo should've given you a nice fuck and you'd be happier?

Were….were they threatening to take away everyone else??

Oh, shut up. It's not as if you actually care for the people you train. They're merely animals to you, unthinking and designed for slaughter.

What the fuck!?

“You can’t be serious,” I averted my glare, but none drew back,

 “You’re not serious.”

“Master Elysia,” Sophie began, and I watched her mentally fumble with her words. “We entrust you with this. We know you will do well.”

Oh my god, no-

'Like, OMG, I'm being entrusted with responsibility? It's just not FAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRR'

“Arno Dorian, do you understand your position in all this?”

“……..Do I have a choice?”

You don't even have a choice in your own story, my dude, because the author hates you. She likes her Magic Brown Girl more than the white guy.

What the fuck.

“Master Bellac, do you understand the rules and roles of this agreement?”

“……..I do.”

What the fuck was happening??! 

This reminds me of the beginning of 'Diary of the Dead', when the cameraman, after seeing the reporter get her face chewed off by a zombie, goes: 'This can't be happening. This can't be fucking happening!'

Elysia begins to realize she was never in control, and that she doesn't have the mentorship by the balls. Not to worry, I'm sure this will be retconned in a few chapters when Elysia takes command again and when Black finally gets offed. Lore Down Pat will give us a stellar rewrite, I'm sure.

Chapter 7 ends with Elysia screaming to the heavens that she's getting handed a morsel she can't possibly swallow whole. It's funny to see this development when, in all other circumstances, she's happy to pave over others and let them starve to death to get what she wants. This is evidenced by her stealing the grain along with her friend so his business can thrive while her own falters. Les, being of the same party as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (and race), loves socialism until it involves a people other than her own. Then it's 'steal as much as you like, they're not my people and they can fuck off and die'.

Arno managed to make the Café thrive. Elysia, a woman, doesn't know how finances work. Not really helping the stereotype that women, especially brown women, destroy everything they touch, eh?

I would also like to point out the authors are seemingly unaware that the Reign of Terror and government seizures of property began en masse in 1792-1794, not 1789. They also can't decide whether or not individual grain providers are to blame for the famines, or government seizures, before deciding it's one and not the other and ret-conning it to be the other. Confused? I sure am.

60,000 words and 10,000 word chapters have not established much in the way of a story. 5,000 or more was dedicated to Elysia stealing grain with her friend, and then freaking the fuck out that she has to play Mommy to a kid she doesn't like. When it comes to a re-write or an expansion of Unity's lore, none of that is present. It's put aside for the story of an angry brown woman who doesn't like being called a 'Gypsy' by a man with far more experience than her.

'Lore Down Pat' can't decide what to do with French history, because the authors simply don't know it. It takes three authors to write this garbage, with Les being at the helm. None of them can do any basic Google research or read a book other than Harry Potter. However, were this the history of how racist, say, US Border Customs is, Les would be all over it.

60,000 words and it's centered around a brown woman hating white guys and cucking the white guy who's story she is overriding. Equality? No. Affirmative Action. This should be called "Pistols of Affirmative Action", because all Elysia can do is throw shit fits.

Man, I wonder what'll happen when we reach 200,000 or 400,000 word territory. Brown Woman rage will be driven into overdrive, no doubt.