A great gift for quarantine - Pistols at Dawn Chapter 10

In these trying times, with more than one billion people locked up indoors, fretting over cooking for themselves and playing Call of Duty for hours on end, Les has taken it upon herself to treat us with the gift of storytelling. Initially, the chapter update was scheduled for April 1st, so we'll see if this year's April Fool's day will continue the 'great adventures' of a terrible character and her rampage through French history. While I can understand the fierce anxiety and uncertainty as a result of COVID-19, I don't think these story updates will add anything beneficial. Call me cruel, but with all the time in the world, it can be spent reviewing such God-awful things like this.

The update for Pistols at Dawn was posted on April 7th. Late, but my distaste for this story burns hotter than the wait time. On we go with 40 pages of pain.

Despite the interference, the abrasiveness, the level of nonsensical antics: Arno Dorian saved the Café Théâtre.

And I wonder how much pain was inflicted on Elysia to admit this, because, after all, she was the one who ran the Café into the ground. It isn't nonsensical to save a business, because it keeps people employed. Les should know this more than anyone else, as she went above and beyond to help a nurse with equipment. Elysia, however, does not possess this altruism, so having a Fucking White Male step in and save a business she destroyed is irksome.

But, not all is good. Arno does not remain in control of the business per se; that is in the hands of a Nigerian. Les is under the impression - as most are - that the demographics of France at that time resemble the demographics of France today. She and her co-authors cannot be bothered to do any historical research, and why would she? She's 'fixing' the plot. She's 'doing the work Ubisoft can't be bothered to do.' And that includes not even reading a book on French history the same way she thought the Japanese were extremely common in Italy. It makes her look utterly incompetent - and her Mary Sue reflects that.

It was disconcerting to be clueless on what exactly he was thinking occasionally. He had this new, unbearable smirk I couldn’t stand now. It would carve on his rakish face whenever we were in the same vicinity, and one mere look was all it took to activate it. Like he had won a round of some imaginary, befuddling game I was unaware I was partaking in; holding his cards at bay, and baited me to join in this weighted match.

Elysia is such a strong, smart woman, she doesn't realize Orfeo has such a shit eating grin all because she was the one who destroyed the business and nearly put her employees out on the street (and it's funny to write this because Les complains about her boss doing the same). Arno had to turn to Orfeo for help, and both of them are relishing in Elysia losing control for once. I am inclined to agree; this bitch absolutely deserves to get hammered.

“Great, you’re here,” I dropped my hand, giving a slight eye-roll.  

Mary Sues are seldom grateful for anything.

"Why are you so surprised," Orfeo offered me a flat stare, his wavy locks teasing around his eyes. His hair had been tucked in a small ponytail, being a small wisp of jet-black obscurity. "You should be used to this by now, even if it's on the other foot." 

If your jet-black hair is a 'wisp of obscurity', it shouldn't be so prominent. 'Obscure' normally means barely known or seen. This is one of those examples where Les tries to write pretty and it flows back in her face like a bad fart.

“This is my manor you’re in,” I didn’t let up.

His irises glistened, indulged, "The manor we helped save. You're welcome by the way." The hot flare ceased in my mouth when Charlotte’s footsteps hopped her way back. 

If Elysia was actually a proper character with decent flaws and a likable personality, she would at least have the grace to admit that Orfeo, a man she hates, along with Arno saved her skin and her employees. Since she doesn't have that level of self-awareness, she snarks at those who rightfully criticize her. It's not a good look, and will continue to be a bad look so long as this story continues. We are almost 100,000 words in and there hasn't been a change in Elysia's character at all.

Orfeo smacked his lips lazily, his eyes slowly gliding over. He crossed his arms against his solid chest, tilting his head exaggeratingly towards me as the red irises shined in a brief veil, "Coffee with some sugar sounds fantastic right about now."

Fucking.

I made sure to add an exaggerated amount of sugar to it when I came back, nearly shoving the mug into him.

“………………………Anything else.” My words bit the air between us. 

I would like to compare this dialogue with the one Elysia had with Orfeo when they stole grain from the French public so he could price gouge said grain at his establishment: she was perfectly willing to work with him then, because he was 'of her kind'. Now, since Orfeo has taken Arno's side, she just can't accept it. Deal with it, sugartits. This is your fault, and you need to lie in the grave you dug for yourself.

“Maybe you can….I don’t know….” My tone abruptly shifted to a hushed whisper, and I was presenting myself right against his front. My digits fanned out and the tips of my nails trailed up his blouse, indenting the fabric at the center of his heart. His orbs shot to them before meeting my direct look, focused on my mouth as I replied, “Indulge yourself somewhere faaaar away from here,” I played out the words sluggishly.

The best part about Elysia attempting to be seductive is that her author thinks she's quite the tease herself, albeit the author's personality isn't towards men (in fact, she quite hates them). She doesn't even need to act this way, but it gets even better once the dialogue continues.

He lowered his voice just the same- "Quite a tease, aren't you?" -and dropped an octave at the end of the sentence.

I meant to continue, though my legs had turned rigid- “Tch.” Orfeo’s finger hooked at the loop of my chest’s belt, keeping me in place. My eyes searched wildly, spotting the sunspots swimming above his cheeks. Were those…always there- 

Ah, the Mary Sue with a weakness for cock. I absolutely didn't see that coming! Anyways, it says a lot about Elysia, doesn't it? The know-it-all, I-can-do-no-wrong character gets weak in the knees for a man who knows which buttons to push. I wonder who is going to have their sex scene first: Elysia and the LoZ bad boy, or Arno and his gang bang with the Baguette Boys? Guess I'm going to have to wait and find out.

"Careful how you play your cards, fox,” he leaned momentarily, the sunset’s rays igniting the golden sheen in my orbs. The edge of the cowl nearly touched Orfeo’s forehead, and the scent of the coffee on his tongue sprang free, “You might spring yourself into a trap.”

Fuck.

“…I hate you so much.” I scoffed, pushing away as I made my way up the stairs. 

Elysia isn't a good card player, especially since she can't tell she's been had. She is easily angered, and she promptly shows those around her what her intentions are. She's not mysterious or clever like foxes generally are, and she's not even remotely cunning. Plus, I don't think she hates the Emo Bad Boy as much as she says she does. Remember: she stole grain from the poor to enrich him and did it without a peep of protest. She only hates him because he calls out her shit - and, quite frankly, every male character does. I 100% cannot blame them.

Ugh.

Why was he….like this????? 

Like ugh, why can't you stop acting like a teenager and take responsibility for your actions? Ugh, it's too adult-like, have the Fucking White Male do it.

More importantly, I couldn’t let a small nuisance like him take up any time when I had unprecedented issues of my own regarding the Creed.

Must be why you took the collapse of the Café, the front for Assassin intel, so seriously, right?

The exchange of Arno Dorian was smooth and argument-free.

Yet, he struggled to work within my team.

I knew that when I began this story, I'd be in for an utter clusterfuck in regards to the treatment of Arno Dorian. I was not taken aback when I saw him act like a total idiot in comparison to the All Knowing Mary Sue. Add on his botched first field mission and you get a main character who isn't even allowed a say in his own story and is there to suck the collective cocks of the team he lives to serve.

I could tell that James was getting to the edge of his patience. Clement almost had this unbending look in his eye whenever he found him at my side, and Stephen grew strained from the continuous questions Arno didn’t repel from expelling out. He was brash in his words, gritty in his actions; it was conspicuous what kind of teaching methods Bellac used as opposed to mine. Without warning, I ordered my scoping or thieving missions (and I purposely made it that way) to be with the Dorian rather getting him into any kind of unnecessary conflicts, or out of my sight. He wasn’t too thrilled about being babysat, but could do nothing else to combat it. Bellac didn’t seem to mind of my different approach when word got to him (because of course, Arno complained). 

Arno is an inquisitive character. If Elysia and her team are getting irritated at him asking questions, that is their problem, not his. They want to breed him to be this unthinking machine who takes orders without question, when Arno's appeal was his skepticism. His skill set is drastically reduced; he cannot engage in stealth, cannot complete take-downs, and sows impatience and discord among those who are supposed to be his teammates (and who he will eventually fuck). His infantile nature is not what he is, but Les does it for the hell of it.

I have no idea why Black taught Arno to be like a kid in constant need of protection. Black was harsh and stern, and Arno rose through the ranks quickly because of his teachings. I will not get over this insulting treatment of him.

Mirabeau pulled the Creed’s members into confinement, including every Master too.

It was an unforeseen decision, and not one to be argued with; all missions given to us had been withdrawn until further notice, meaning my entire team was left with nothing crucial to do for three days. Sophie and Quemar made it their mission to find out the reason why of this unprecedented event, but Mirabeau gave no specification. Almost in reluctance did Beylier asked Bellac to take on the task.

It is no wonder the Parisian Brotherhood was as incompetent as it was. If you pull all the Mentors away for no reason at all and leave your recruits lingering around doing nothing, you are begging for a purge. If Shay actually featured in this story, at his advanced age this situation would be easy pickings.

There are no breaks for Assassins. The Templars certainly don't take them, and you show your administrative issues when you do. What was about about fixing the plot, Les?

Bellac proved unsuccessful, and this alarmed all of us.

The hideout’s movement drew to that of an undisturbed, dim marsh. The dismissal of so many bodies made it eerie to walk into silence. I even found one assassin, bored out of his mind, counting the stalactites on the ceiling while another mindlessly flipped through a book, jumping his leg from anxiousness. But there they were, all four men of my squad arriving and waiting keenly for something to spring, for a different kind of news rather to be sent home for the second week in a row.

Again, you are just begging for a purge. All Germain has to do is wait for the Assassins to kill each other out of boredom!

Almost as if avoiding telling me when I went to confront him alone:

“I’m facing new concerns and limiting our resources,” was Mirabeau’s response.

And he dismissed me with an empty binder, closing the double doors of the Grand Hall. The suspicion reformed in my mind as I made it down the empty hall, the four assassins never looking away as I walked straight to them in the main lobby. 

Fun fact: ring binders weren't patented until 1886.

Anyways, I am curious to see what Les has in store for the Parisian Brotherood. Mirabeau refuses to tell anyone of his plans, and doing so in the beginnings of the French Revolution is deliberately suicidal. It'd be one thing if it was hinted he was keeping his correspondence with King Louis XVI secret. However, I am to assume his reasons for shutting the doors of the Brotherhood in everyone's faces was done for the most arbitrary reasons. Limiting the Assassins resources in a time of upheaval is, again, suicidal. What new concerns is he facing?

Then again, if he's talking to someone like Elysia, I don't blame him for being so secretive. The woman's a bitch.

“You look more fitting there than you do in a hood,” Orfeo suddenly commented once, and the coffee in my mouth almost sprang free and across the table from the look that befell Arno’s face at the end of that sentence.

“Hey, you were supposed to be on my side on this,” the Dorian didn’t let himself, crossing his arms that scrunched up his folded sleeves, “I was the one who proposed this ideal partnership to you.”

If Arno was smart instead of being the squishy tool from an UWU Charlotte Gouze, Arno would've quipped about Orfeo hoarding food and how he's more of an expert in the kitchen than he is. Naturally, Elysia finds this hilarious, even though she willingly let her business suffer.

“You didn’t propose this to me, you proposed it to Giselle,” Orfeo corrected, collecting the end day’s currency.

“…He’s not wrong,” I added before Arno could deflect, earning a hard stare and a scrunched nose from him. “You did do that. Reap your reward.”

“……….Breathe….breathe…” Arno muttered to himself, clasping his hand on the neck of the broom before moving his way to the stage, his ponytail flapping to and fro from his aggressive sweeps. Orfeo and I shared a glance, and it was undeniable to make out the amused smirk on his face.

Finally, something we both agreed on.

What I like is that Orfeo is collecting the funds from the Café and keeping it for himself, while Elysia isn't even concerned with the business' profit. I also would like to mention that she nearly killed Arno when he back-talked her and said she was the one at fault for the place going under. She's telling him to 'reap his reward' when she is the primary reason the Café had to have new management. She tanked the front for the Brotherhood and she doesn't even give a shit. 

I'd take a breath, too, Arno. You're being done dirty at the hands of a PeeOhCee who hates your very existence.

Arno wasn't wrong when he called Elysia incompetent. She reacted by throttling him in front of everyone.

Why go to such lengths to compose this all, and merely halt it without any warning?

Was…..Mirabeau hiding something?

You tell me. You're a Mentor.

Stephen wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, I've tasted a few different kinds. I'm just craving... I don't know, like, carbonation, I guess." Stephen heaved a sigh, looking off to the side in contemplation. He let out a small murmur that sounded like, But I guess that doesn't exist yet.

This would explain Stephen talking about the Eiffel Tower when it wasn't even built yet: he's from the future. Carbonated water was in existence at the time period, with sparkling wine in existence before them. The process was already in effect with champagne, but they did not call it carbonation until recently. They were often called 'aerated' waters.

So, we have two immortals and a time traveler who'll suck the dick of Arno Dorian. I wonder what other surprises are in store?

I placed the cup down, giving a simple nod, "He says he's sorry for being unbelievably annoying and wishes to-"

"I did not say that at all," Arno cut in.

Clement exchanged a look between us, then confirmed to Stephen with a nod with his thick accent, "She's right."

There's nothing like a Squad who's deathly afraid of a bitch who can snap their necks in a split second who'll turn on one of their own when they feel like it. All of Elysia's recruits don't even like her personally but they enjoy it when she takes out her rage on someone else. They have to call Arno 'annoying' even when he isn't, and they have to hold him responsible for issues they won't take responsibility for.

"Did you even understand what she said just now?" Arno backfired, giving a challenging smile.

"No, but I got a gist of it," Clement reaffirmed with a click of his tongue. "She's. Right." Arno coughed crossly, slumping in his seat with a firm line across his face.

Stephen gave a small chuckle, “Well, I'd accept your apology but I know you're not actually sorry about that."

"Why would I be sorry about something that's not true-" this riled him up once more.

If I were Arno, I'd be riled up to if I was blamed for something everyone else does. It's a double standard. I'd also be pissed if my abilities were routinely called into question from an absolute monster and waddling hypocrite like Elysia.

Arno has no reason to be sorry, because he did nothing wrong. He is made to be an idiot to prop up Les's shitty characters, full stop.

"Just because we accepted Arno doesn't mean we're gonna let anyone in our family go."

I adjusted the folder in my arm, feeling the cup somewhat slippery in my grip all of a sudden. This wasn’t a first coming from Stephen, but I never knew what I could say to…..accept that idea. Much less dissuade him from calling us….that.

I really do love this 'just because we accepted this person, doesn't mean we have to like him!' attitude. In no way is this dysfunctional pile of shit a family. It's a dog-eat-dog world where a PeeOhCee that everyone hates and fears is in charge of a business she ran into the ground and for recruits whose biggest threat is boredom.

How in the Hell is this plot even being fixed? Nothing has happened!

I cleared my throat, letting the sweat trickle down the back of my neck, "I don't think Beylier is in any mood on accepting new students. There was word he had sent three students on a mission recently, and only two returned with injuries."

Stephen tightened his lips into a very flat smile, looking forward. His next sentence was barely uttered, and it nearly made me stop in my tracks.

"If he's a good Master, then he wouldn't let any of his students be injured on missions." 

I can tell Arno is being cheeky here. In any case, injuries are to be expected from an Assassin. The only thing they care about is you being caught, tortured, and divulging information. You can come back a quadruple amputee and still be thought of as a great Assassin provided you didn't compromise the Brotherhood.

The implication that Beylier, the one black guy in the Parisian Brotherhood, can't do his job is hilarious. So much for smashing those stereotypes!

We walked in silence, and I didn’t lecture Arno's constant questioning on why Clement's cat liked swiping at his finger (and I was glad Stephen didn't hesitate to step away from me to demonstrate that Eugene loved him. Bottom line, Arno wasn't good with cats) as we approached the Main Hall. There I spotted James indeed being accompanied by not only Beylier, but Sophie as well. A well-deserved distraction from my thoughts.

Arno isn't just good with cats (for whatever reason), he's also not good at being an Assassin.

“Dear friend, don’t you remember your promise to me?” Beylier gestured his hand forward, turning his hand toward himself as if his palm were a wheel gearing into motion. “Does the name Thomas Dumas ring a bell?”

“……Not a clue,” I responded. Beylier fiddled with the top button of his jacket, giving me a raised-brow, challenging look. My eyes rolled, “Ughhhh, fine.”

This is another indication Les and her co-authors know jack shit about French history. Dumas was actually one of the few black men who were prominent in France's army (technically, he was half black, but you get the point). Elysia should know who he is if she bothered to get involved with French politics and history. What good is a Mentor if she doesn't even know the who's who of France? And she's holding Arno responsible for being an idiot? Ho hum.

“Wait right here,” Beylier halted us at the entrance, the sound of a playing cello, violin and piano wafting its heartbeats into the outside world. The four students lingered a bit beside me as I kept an eye on the window, watching the dark-skinned assassin make his move across the marble-checked floor, excuse himself around two men who were sharing a couple of drinks, and approach the counter where a bartender greeted him warmly. He must have expected Beylier’s arrival given the firm handshake they exchanged.

I don't think having a meeting at a café in front of an angry mob that'll gut you for hoarding food is a good idea. These protests are occurring outside the Louvre, and having a bunch of hooded men meeting in a public area where they're serving food and coffee isn't just bad writing, it's begging the question of how these businesses even stayed open in the first place.

“Despite leading us all the way out here, he’s been secretive of what the mission is,” Arno countered, leaning into the window and cupping his eyes with his gloved fingers.

“You’ll know what it is in due time, meanwhile-“ I grabbed the scruff of his collar, and turned him around to face the street view, “- you’re going to have to wait.”

Still no respect from the Mary Sue. I wouldn't expect anything less; Elysia only respects other brown and black people - unless Beylier and Quemar piss her off - and a handful of women.

“Are you a fan?” I questioned. If he's a fan, he's so useful in the Summer, Stephen muttered to himself.

"I've heard of his accomplishments, yes." James rubbed at the scruff on his chin, "He's a part of the Sixth Regiment of the Queens Dragoon. Despite his mixed backgrounds, there seems to be nothing stopping him from rising through the ranks.”

“Ahh, he sounds like someone highly regarded,” Arno added in.

Arno out of all of them should know who Dumas is, because he's the one who actually kept up on current events. However, in this story, he doesn't so much as pick up a newspaper because his intelligence has to be lowered in comparison to Elysia's. Logic.

“He’s talked much about you,” Dumas chuckled lightly, his vigilant gaze running up my face with his hands behind his back.  

“Has he?” I looked over to Beylier before meeting Dumas again, “I wonder what.”

Probably spoke to him man-to-man about how you belittle everyone around you, drive businesses into the ground, and generally make yourself an unpleasant experience. But he won't say it to your face, because you'd enter full Mary Sue mode and crack his skull.

“Nothing to be worried about,” Beylier haughtily exposed.

"Enough, that we've been recommended for this particular mission." James folded his arms against his chest, "What is this mission about if I may ask?"

“Ahh…and this must be James,” Dumas suddenly beamed, lifting a finger and tapping the side of it against the top of his temple (I could’ve sworn I saw James’ eyes brighten from being mentioned).

I wouldn't be in the least bit shocked if Dumas had Eagle Vision and Arno did not. That's one way to strip him of importance: take away his gifts and give them to someone else.

“France is fighting its battle; it’s citizens are restless for justice, and the country is being left open for invaders and the like to take the chance to infiltrate and reshape the justice system,” Dumas carried on, pacing with one arm hooked behind his back, the other pointing mindlessly in the air to emphasize his words, “The Templar Order is not a common enemy I have come across, but they are also not unknown to me; I have a lead of a military coup that will take place next week, and we’ve finally found an opening to stop it…before it escalates any further.”

Now, I have to wonder: why wasn't this put in the first chapter? Because Les wanted to bog down the story with useless details and shitty character and plot development. This should be a serious issue, but since it took nearly 100,000 words to get here, it clearly wasn't important enough.

“General Marcourt,” Dumas informed with a hard edge to the name, “He plans to execute a coup within France’s ranks, and place Templar members in their place. But…he can’t do it alone.”

“And this is where we come in?” James questioned.

Dumas nodded again, “Marcourt will not pick just any man for the job; he is hosting a tournament, Les Matchs where he will recruit the best and brightest for his revolution. A team of four, and the winners will meet him personally, face to face." 

My guess is that Arno will get the short end of the stick while the other team members get all the glory.

General Marcourt may be a nod to General Harcourt, who was an Englishman who fought in the Revolutionary War. His introduction gives an idea of where the French Revolution is going: it's not really in the hands of the people; it's really in the hands of the Templars. Again, why wasn't this put in the first chapter?

Dumas didn’t waste time, “The first match is collecting a total of forty flags throughout an obstacle course. The second match will be fighting an opponent group selected specifically by Marcourt.”

"Collecting flags?" Clement made a face at this, caught up to speed by James’ brief translations, "You would think they would want to do something with more-“ he waved his opens hands at this- “pizazz. It's a tournament dedicated to recruiting Templars...you would think they would actually try and find the best of the best." 

Flag/feather/cockade collection is OK in the games, but it's pretty ridiculous when you have to read it in a story. If these are the requirements for recruits to be selected for a Templar agent, they're setting a very low bar. In a time where people in the countryside are lynching each other for want of food, the best Les can do is set up an obstacle course? We're going full Mario Cart, here.

“I have a question,” Arno cleared his throat, smiling fleetingly, “Any chance that we’ll be able to redo a challenge if failed?”

“There’s no option for failure,” I responded right after, giving Arno a stern glance before gliding it across the rest of the lineup. “You either succeed, or you fail the mission. Do I make myself clear?”

Naturally, our Gypsy Queen won't be participating. Whenever there's a chance for her to jab at Arno, she takes it. You'd think Arno would deduce failure is not an option in this Capture the Flag funhouse, but his intelligence is greatly diminished in this fic. His mistakes will be used to prop up the others.

Dumas chuckled without warning, giving me a small smile, “They hold you in high regard.”

“Depends on which one you ask,” I rolled my head to the side. Beylier laughed at that. “You’re highly regarded yourself; my students have heard about you.”

If only Dumas had mind-reading abilities so he could see how Elysia was irritated at Beylier's secrecy and disobedience to her not a chapter ago. He would also discover how her own employees dread being around her and how she nearly drove them out onto the street.

This is a prime example of an author propping up a character on a pedestal when they have done nothing to earn it. Everything Elysia has done so far should lower herself in everyone's eyes, but to Les, it raises her status. I don't have the same mania clouding my judgment, so I know a bad character when I see one.

“Ahh, have they? There’s many rumors and stories of me; it would be greatly disappointing if you adopted an unflattering impression of me.”

“It looks like you and Beylier have known each other for a long time,” I moved the conversation along, gesturing to my acquaintance. “It was only a matter of time until I had a face for your name.”

Too bad Elysia didn't have a single clue as to who Dumas was, showing how much she really knows about the French and their history. She's immortal, yet has never picked up a book. She's supposed to be the protagonist, remember.

“Beylier and I share the strong belief of equality and right justice,” Dumas continued, giving a smile. “I grew up in a hard but privileged life; others are not so lucky, but that does not mean they should suffer for their misfortunes. The poorer districts of Paris carry many manumit residents from the islands further south, and they are free in France. We’re here to ensure that their choices and opportunities are the same as anyone else’s.”

OK, this is yet another sign Les and her co-authors did not do their research. Slavery was illegal in Paris and in France, though the same could not be said of its colonies. However, Les makes the assumption - again - that blacks were swarming Paris as they do now in their numbers of 4-5 million. She cannot be pressed to look up historical demographics; then again, with the amount of Afrocentric revisionism going on I wouldn't be surprised if she picked a website that says 'Yes, of course there were black people all around France!'. I'll drop this link again:

The exact number of Africans, free or enslaved, in eighteenth century France is not known, but the highest rough estimates suggest that there were between 4,000 to 5,000 entering and leaving the country throughout the century. The black population appeared to have never comprised more than .025 percent of the French population. 

If you want to get really specific, it isn't hard to figure out the fate of Liberia, which never was colonized, or Haiti after it massacred every white and mulatto on the island. Blacks in Paris were a rare enough occurrence Dumas stood out for being half-black. This wouldn't raise eyebrows at all if blacks were as prominent as Les and her co-authors think.

We parted from the café right after, Beylier keeping pace with me as we headed our course for the Brotherhood’s central location. Beylier took this moment to address me, giving a small smile.

“Is the boy giving you trouble still?”

“He’s struggling with the others, but by his own faults,” I confessed with a small sigh. “I suggest he fix those quickly if they are to do this assignment without a hitch.”

Of course, it's Arno's fault. It's not Elysia's for treating him like garbage; she won't even thank him properly for saving the Café. Arno isn't as dumb as Les writes him as, but he's made the butt of all jokes because that's what he's good for - and, of course, taking cocks up his ass, but that's for later.

“That is something where time and experience will have to iron out the wedges. He has the drive, and I expect great things from him.”

“Says the one who objected about his progress.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his hand between us, “Progress solely under Bellac; a shared custody gives him a better chance.” We turned around a corner street, entering the more populated areas. “With a mouth as sharp as his, it’s best to remain on your toes.”

“As I always am,” I scoffed.

This is absolutely rich. Elysia has objected to Arno's progress from day one. Beylier never said a word; it was all Elysia's doing. Now she has the gall to complain he has a mouth? He's well within his power to use it, bitch. And you bet your ass it is immensely entertaining to me to read him using it properly.

“Does that also explain why you brushed off Monsieur Dumas? He was quite taken by you.”

I rolled my eyes, “I wonder what else you told him about me.”

“Ah, so you did notice.”

Just what kind of standards did the Brotherhood have to lower to allow someone like Elysia within their ranks? This is utterly shameful. She didn't even know who Dumas was, and now she's trashing Beylier for speaking to him about her behaviour?

This character grates on my nerves. When is Shay coming in? I just want him to rope dart the bitch already.

I looked ahead, but I felt his wavering confidence from how enclosed we were, “What aren’t you telling me, Beylier?”

"....Tell me, how much do you know about the American Brotherhood."

I wonder...is this where Aveline and Connor are going to be introduced? If so, that'll give reason for Arno to be thrown under the bus even more. I wager that these two will be demeaned and degraded as much as Arno. Even Shay hasn't entered the picture yet, and he's 'a menace like no other'. I wonder if Beylier will mention how terrible the American Brotherhood was under Achilles, and how Connor had to re-work it from the ground up?

I paused in my step, watching Beylier fiddle with the gate door and unlock it with his hidden blade (a rare occasion as it slid back into its silver-outlined sheath), “It’s not the usual struggle between Templars and Assassins…the pieces of Eden and the folklore of what they hold and the power they possess? The centuries of fighting that was brought upon mankind?”

...You are a Mentor. You should know this. My God, you didn't just live through Renaissance Italy with Ezio for nothing, woman!

“He might have been mentioned once or twice, but I can’t recollect in full,” I confessed as we turned a corner, “I’m guessing this has something to do with what he did…or was unable to do?”

"...Many would argue about what exactly happened...but...the events that would lead to the fall of the Colonial Brotherhood...may very well threaten the livelihood of the Parisian Brotherhood. "

I didn’t push it.

But I knew it wasn’t the end of it.

The exploits of Shay Cormac should be known to nearly all Assassin strongholds throughout the world. There is no way the French Brotherhood could not know about what happened to the Colonial Assassins, especially since France assisted the Americans during the Revolutionary War. The more Elysia asks questions like this, the more it's shown she has no right to be in the Brotherhood at all. She is completely unqualified.

“Know your manners, Elysia.” Bellac’s voice beside didn’t startle me, but he came rather close that I had to straighten myself up to properly look at him.

Oh, Black. Stop being the man of my dreams.

Oh, this story just got better: there's a classic POV change, and it's from Arno's perspective. This is going to be rich.

So many lives, yet so little to maintain them as Arno tried to push the images of earlier mob away from his mind. The political chaos that stirred beneath slumbering beast that they served; it was only a matter of time, they all knew. The public’s restlessness was multiplying, and how far would they go is a question no one would be able to answer.

Again, historical ignorance is showing. This is after the Bastille was stormed. The populace should already be riled up. There was an auction on selling bricks from the Bastille, ffs. Where is Robespierre, or Lafayette? They should be featuring prominently here, but they aren't. I have to read a subplot of Capture the Flag.

Arno made sure to keep up with the lionized James, but it was quite obvious to see Stephen and Clement proved to be both daunting obstacles on both of his sides. It somewhat bothered Arno, but he didn’t contest it; he had already gotten on Stephen’s firm side, and for unknown reason, Clement was already in opposition of his involvement. 

Without Elysia's bitchy commentary writing the story, it's clear this Baguette Boy Band is being nasty towards Arno for no reason other than him being more talented than they are. Naturally, we should see Arno's skills shine, but he won't ever rise to the occasion because his character is pushed to the side. From the outside looking in, these side characters took one thing from Elysia: they are all intolerable.

“Taking the easy way in isn’t the option still?” Arno decided to get a conversation going. He wasn’t one to like silence that much.

Arno's quite the introvert; silence doesn't bother him that much.

“How churlish,” Arno slumped his shoulders, although remained undeterred of the task at hand. How hard could it be to take one measly ticket?

It shouldn't be hard at all, but you're made a retard on purpose, Arno.

“Hey, I had eyes on him first.”

"Oh ho ho, did you now?" Stephen asked in amusement, looking down at Arno. "So I'm guessing you want me to just hand over my hard won ticket? How are you going to learn if we do the hard work for you?” Stephen’s finger swung out, and tapped the top of Arno’s nose.

The Dorian slightly froze, but took a step back with a firm stare and a small roll of his scrunched nose, “No...I can get my own ticket. You’ll see.” 

Look, I get you're trying to make him look goofy and cute, but there's only so much idiocy I can take. Arno doesn't have observational skills and didn't notice Stephen lurking around, and so has to bumble around some more, coming in last while Elysia's pets come in first.

Stephen gave Arno a warm smile, "Of that, I have no doubt." He tilted his head to another gentleman across the way, with an obvious ticket glimmering in the air. "Good luck out there."

UGH. 

Gotta love the teenage girl attitude.

He's never dealt with cats before, and often times he's resorted only to sweeping them off the property of the de la Serre's when he was ordered to clean the courtyard. Now, now when he needed this ticket most--it would be a cat and not just any cat. He had a feeling who this cat belonged to, but Clement surely couldn't have trained a cat like this.

Could he? Are cats capable of this?

He inched himself cautiously forward, the cat’s eyes dilating in size the moment he was in arm's reach, "Come here--"

No idea why Arno doesn't understand or can't handle cats, especially since they were used to eliminate vermin from households, and there'd be plenty roaming around Parisian streets. He is literally memeing at this point and it's not even cute.

"Pss pss."

He never imagined their eyes could go almost entirely black, the cat SHOOTING with the letter in tow between the crowd. Arno nearly tumbled forward, catching himself before darting right after the feline. It didn't take long to halt in his pursuit, already finding the feline climb up the patient, able bodied assassin leaning against a wooden pillar. Clement scratched along the chin of his pet and gingerly took the ticket, all the while gazing over to Arno's direction, "Oh, were you worried about Eugene?"

'Lol, aren't I so cute adding in a scene where Arno got fucked over by a cat? Character development!'

To a normal person, it looks pretty fucking stupid. To add salt to the wound, it gets worse.

You cheat!” Arno solidified his hold, huffing out so hard he looked like a bull ready to charge. “Give it back! I earned it!”

"It sounds like you've rehearsed that line before." Clement waved the voucher mockingly, leveling his gaze with the younger man, "Next time, keep an eye on your weak spots or else cases like this are going to become your new norm." Clement pocketed the stolen good and allowed his cat to comfortably nestle along his neck, "Better luck next time."

This sounds less like a lesson in keeping an eye on your surroundings than these guys being assholes. They are definitely Elysia's students: they cheat, lie, rob and steal to get what they want. They aren't Assassins. They do these things out of malice. It sickens me to see Arno being treated like this, but I swore I'd wait until the smut scene emerged before telling the author what's what.

“You can’t be serious-“ Arno challenged a step forward, gritting his teeth and pointing accusingly at Clement’s direction. “There’s no way I’m letting you get away with this, assassins comrade or not.” He didn’t even wait, and lurched forward to intervene Clement’s getaway.

Instead, the burly assassin sidestepped, and in the matter of two seconds Arno’s lithe arm was grabbed, and twisted. His nimble feet left the ground, his coat soaring behind him and flapping over his back when he hit the floor. His lower back was exposed, revealing his undergarments of his white blouse, and small belt with various bags and pouches.

You'd think being taught by Bellec would teach Arno all about close quarters combat and situational awareness. In this iteration, he loses to a fucking cat and his so-called comrades nearly break his arm for fun. Not only that, he's flipped so hard his underwear pops out.

Call that a bad fashion SNAFU. Tuck in your shirt, Arno.

“What the hell...” Arno gritted his teeth, staring up at Clement whose eyes glowered from the shadows of his hood.

"You have some nerve," Clement remarked with a glare, pinning him further and making the young man grit his teeth. "Allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment. You're capable of doing better and you let yourself fall into petty, cadging excuses. Yes, I took it--you can't change that. Move on, Dorian and try again." Clement released his hold on Arno's limbs, briskly stepping back and heaved. He was then gone from sight.

Says the guy who cheated to get a fucking token. These 'original' characters sure are a hoot. They exist only to kick Arno into the dirt and he is supposed to be the protagonist of this story. To THINK he's going to enter a gangbang with these fuckers. 

His eyes darted in numerous directions, and he absentmindedly trailed around. Failing Elysia again? Word would surely reach Bellac of his failed attempt, much like how the failed theft of keys did.

Hey, don't feel bad. She barely killed you for talking back to her, even when she deserved to hear the truth. This is a Mentor who doesn't even know who Dumas was!

"You already have a semblance of your general weaknesses that Clement and Stephen forced you to realize." James held his hand out, "Prove them wrong."

These weren't crucial lessons. These were guys being assholes and Arno having room temperature IQ.  It physically pains me to read these scenes.

Arno ignored Clement's silent response, but nodded to James and tucked the ticket back in his pocket, "I'm ready then. Hmm...is Elysia here?" He took a look around, unsure if she had also been spying on his failed attempts. That would be…slightly embarrassing.

Only because the author made it that way. There's nothing embarrassing about a bitchy Mary Sue.

"No, I believe she had other pressing matters to attend to," James answered.

This got him curious, "Hmmmm...then, I head over to the hideout, and see if she's there."

Why? She hates you. She'd rather see you dead - and she tried to kill you in the previous chapter. Arno has a short term memory, it seems.

The lady bowed her head, making her braids sway before she straightened up, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” All four greeted her with a smile, and Arno almost chuckled to see her blush worsen. “T-Thank you so much, Charlotte. I really should get going, but I will see you tomorrow.”

Rose Bertin was an accomplished dress maker, and she later fled France to escape the Revolution. I have no idea why the dressmaker for Marie Antoinette is written as being a meek, shy woman. She was a highly ambitious woman and was confidante to the Queen. You don't get as far as she did being meek. This is Les' historical ignorance showing again.

“Erm…” the young man tapped his chin, and fixing his words. “It was after I followed you guys to Versailles; we came back and we happened to run into him. He was rather excited to see Elysia, and I was dragged along. Turns out, Elysia was helping this small coffee shop get business. It doesn’t seem like the owner of it doesn’t like her very much. What’s his name…..” he crossed his arms at this, “Oh, yeah. Orfeo. That’s his name.”

Too bad the brat who worships Elysia doesn't realize she was content driving the Assassin front into the ground and sending her employees out onto the street. Her 'help' was for Orfeo to steal grain and price gouge. There is nothing admirable there.

“It looks like all of you are good friends. I’m…..kind of jealous about that,” he admitted.

Stephen raised a hand, patting Arno fleetingly on his shoulder, "Well, getting to know each other helps, as James had suggested earlier. Why don't you take initiative and get to know us, Arno?"

It figures Arno has to be jealous of these assholes. Were this the actual Arno, he wouldn't give a shit; he's independent enough not to rely on others for his own survival. It's his charisma that draws people to him, but in this story he's like a geeky, pimply teenager. It's embarrassing. I cringe just reading it.

“Hmm….alright then,” Arno nodded. He straightened himself up, and cleared his throat, “My name is Arno Victor Dorian. My father was Charles Dorian, and from what I’ve gathered from the past year, he used to be an assassin with my mentor, Bellac. Um, he died when I was very young, so de la Serre took me in. I learned a lot about literature and art, and I don’t like…fireworks that much.” He gestured to the group, and gave a coy smile, “Your turn.”

And why doesn't the Baguette Boy Band know this, or even show some respect regarding this revelation? Not even Elysia acknowledge Arno's father and his deeds. She's just that much of a selfish bitch. Also, why doesn't Arno like fireworks? Is it PTSD after his father promised him to go see them? If so, that's a pretty shitty excuse. I'm getting PTSD myself from 'AC Unity Rewrite.'

"With pleasure." James cleared his throat, "I was born and raised in Evershot, Dorset, I grew up alongside my two cousins and uncle. I decided after to head to London to join the army, thankfully getting dragged into the riots that were breaking out instead. Met a drunkard that would soon turn out to be my assassin mentor for two years before he was killed in action, leaving me to be one of the last remaining assassins in London. I decided to journey to Paris and well, the rest as Stephen put so mildly, is history."

Anyone want to tell me how an Englishman, one of the last of the British Brotherhood and who doesn't speak French, went to France instead of helping to rebuild the English branch? I guess Les didn't think that far ahead. I'm still wondering how the fuck a guy like him who doesn't speak a word of French can go as far as he does in France. 200 IQ.

 “...And what makes Bellac a rat bastard, exactly?” Arno tested, curling his fingers into his gloves. “Elysia hasn’t been the prime role model herself, either.”

"You mean besides the fact that Bellac doesn't actually care about any of us in the Brotherhood? And the fact that Elysia wants you to be the best you can be so you don't get hurt?" Stephen sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. "Bellac is entitled to things because he doesn't flinch if his whole team dies on a mission. He's an asshole about being favored, and he knows it."

I knew from the beginning all other canon characters would come second to this Mary Sue, and I'm not surprised Bellec is, once again, written as an abusive, dumb drunkard who doesn't know what he's doing. This is completely contradictory to his character and demeans his skills as a field agent. He's harsh, and stern, but he has real passion. Stephen says Bellec is 'entitled to things', even though Elysia is a Mentor despite knowing nothing about French politics, geopolitics or its citizens and feels fit to lecture others on their ignorance. This statement smacks of projection; it fits the Mary Sue more than it fits Bellec.

Also, 'rat bastard' can be a euphemism for a Jew, so be careful there, Les. Don't be an anti-Semite.

Arno turned a bit to face him, his cheeks firm, “That’s highly critical of you for someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

Stephen's glare bit back, “If you can't have your team to survive your missions, then you shouldn't be taking those missions. Simple."

“What did you say?” Arno replied sharply. Stephen didn’t break gaze, resting his bent knee against the edge of the table.

Arno is right. Again. And Elysia's recruits have to white knight for her.

"Stephen that's enough." James's voice steeled, making Arno shoot his gaze over, "....Don't jump to conclusions as such. You don't exactly know what had occurred. We must keep in mind that both our mentors, if not all the Masters, have pros and cons to each of them. Let's better than that." Suddenly, James stood next, targeting the Dorian next, "As for you, be wary about the gossip you hear about our team. Elysia finds herself a target many times solely because she doesn’t fall to the status-quo. You of all people should know better to easily believe what you hear either. Or else the whole Brotherhood would have called you a traitor right from the get go."

Elysia can't fit into the status-quo because she doesn't even know what the status quo is. No one can ever criticize her, and let us not forget how she chased down Arno in front of everyone in the Café all because he defied her. She has all the power and lethality of Hillary Clinton.

The chapter ends with the Baguette Boy band having a fight and Arno crying on a rooftop over his dead father. As much as I can sympathize with him in those moments, his treatment in other chapters makes me shrug my shoulders in indifference.

This chapter could be summed up as thus: the team goes to Dumas for a Capture the Flag mission to get close to a Templar general. The Baguette Boy Band has a huge bitch fight over it. Arno gets cucked. He cries afterward. Bellec is called a 'rat faced asshole'. Elysia doesn't know who Dumas is. Mirabeau fucked off after closing the door on everyone.

Now, I could write the scenario in 1,500 words or less. It took Les 40 fucking pages. She just doesn't know when to stop or stay relevant. Adding this amount of bullshit to your work is writing words for the word's sake, versus making the words count. This is a rule I abide by: if you cannot describe your chapter in a paragraph or less, you're writing to bore your readers. Were there any important details missed in this chapter? No. If you were looking for a thorough beatdown of Arno's character, you came to the right place.

40 pages of content which could've been explained in three. Still there are no historical characters making their parlay; the ones we did see, Dumas and Rose Bertin, were treated as stage props. You'd think one of the most famous (half) black dudes in French history and an accomplished businesswoman would have a greater impact. We're almost 100,000 words in and there haven't been any real issues introduced that have not been caused by Elysia directly. As the chapters go on, this appears to be less and less of a rewrite and more of a personal gloat, and there is nothing I hate more are authors with unwarranted self-importance.

It takes me about three hours or so to write these reviews. If I was speed reading, I'd probably bundle a bunch of chapters together with my thoughts. With stories like these, though, they require more attention because of how awful they are. I'm a sucker for details, but there are times when a story gets bogged down in its own shit it doesn't know where to claw itself out. For this story, I'm seeing one of my favourite characters get cucked and French history thrown down the poop chute.

At the end of the day, it's the story of a bitchy Mary Sue who happens to be a 'woman of colour' who hates those Fucking White Males...just like the story's creator.