Pain in the Time of Thanks - Pistols at Dawn Chapter 19
The day before Black Friday presents us with an 11,000 chapter update from this monster of a catastrophe. Though, I can't say it hasn't been entertaining in its own way. Each chapter has its own perks, its own insults, its own headbangers...and it is still ongoing. The author has no idea what she's doing wrong, and the penultimate chapter will begin once Arno begins his Ram Ranch training. Until then, we're going to stuff ourselves on all this filler. This chapter is appropriately titled 'Echoes of Rome', and we're catching it in its degenerate days.
The word count stands at 176,722.
Hardly a soul was left for civil chatter this early morning; various Assassins and mentees crushed their files to their chest as their feet carried them to their determined destinations. An undisturbed network entered and exited the ground quarters, and those without an objective were very far and few in this bombinating cluster.
I'd like to remind readers that a good chunk of this Brotherhood was wiped out by Shay Cormac due to their bum-rushing techniques. I also need not remind anyone that Mentor Elysia herself still has no idea who Shay Cormac is or how dangerous he is. Every time I see the Assassins mentioned, I can't stop thinking of the one woman who is responsible for their downfall.
And it's about time Les stops with words that are too eloquent for her. She isn't capable of using them properly, and it's like putting a fresh paint job on a wreck.
Something is amiss in this Creed, and it’s something I cannot point out so obviously. Everyone works under this guise, yet our goals are divided. Mirabeau must be aware of this. He must know this. Or….what if it’s his intention?
You tell me. You're working with him. You are aware that Mirabeau is a prominent agent in French politics, right Elysia? Tennis Court Oath and all that or nah? I bet you she's not even aware of the Assassin-Templar truce. Hell, I don't think Les is given the fact Shay destroyed all of the main antagonists and replaced them with her anime replicas.
A fixated drive that scrambled everyone’s focuses apart. Had it always been this way? And I was merely oblivious to that all this time? James must’ve thought me a fool for doing everything unchallengingly.
Your mind is elsewhere.
No kidding.
I'll say. Your mind is anywhere but physical reality. Shameful thing, that.
It had been a week since James’ concrete farewell to this world, but the grieving process has only begun for some; Arno’s stay extended with Bellac and I gave no quarrel for that. We were left with little to no missions, and if there were any, I was given permission to quickly complete them. Stephen and Clement were gone to their own personal instruments and time, though Stephen was the only one to show up to the café-manor at some point; Clement’s silence since the day we left his newly acquired apartment was a clear message that he didn’t want to interact with me.
So, it's only been a week, yet Arno managed to mope in the de la Serre estate in that time, Élise confronts Shay, and Elysia still doesn't know what is happening in her own Order. This character development is fascinating. It's evolving, but backwards.
As for Clement and Stephen, didn't they go to James' apartment to find clues for his dad? Has it been a week since Andre the Giant threatened Elysia with knowledge of what she was and sailed back to England? Remember those details? I do.
Clement is right to be silent around Elysia. She is directly responsible for his death. Now, Les can argue that she isn't responsible and that the blame lies on Arno, but he wanted to discover the truth. Elysia had the truth right in front of her and chose to ignore it. That's on her and her alone. Of course, the author (s) won't address that simply because they do not remember what happened in their own story.
“He probably needs more time,” Stephen reassured me as we both drank fresh tea on the balcony overseeing the street. The same one where he had been sitting next to James,
“I have no doubts; I’m not upset,” I answered, watching Grisier welcoming the approaching customers of the day.
Stephen sighed a moment after, “…I miss him.”
“Me too.”
And our conversation would stop there, mostly, until Stephen left.
Of course you're not upset. Why would you be? After all, it's not your fault, is it? Similar to how it wasn't your fault the Café went under, right? I, of course, remember the long monologue James gave despite his lung shot, and how Elysia tried her best to save him. Naturally, she can't spare that kind of emotion to her own students; what a proud, inspiring Mentor she is.
If there was anything Mirabeau was going to address, it had to be related to Shay. It must be. Not with so much time that has been passed since the immense loss of Quemar’s team that thus affected the entire infrastructure of the Brotherhood itself.
You'd think this would be the first issue within the Brotherhood, but no. It happens to come second to whatever the fuck this Elysia arc is. It's been a week since those massacres. What has she been doing? Oh yes, nothing.
I heard the shuffle of a book being opened, and when I touched the entryway did I see Sophie being the first one here. The soft thud of my boots earned her look, and she bowed her head gently at the removal of my hood.
The reoccurring dark circles under her eyes gave her away, “Morning, Master Elysia.”
“Morning, Sophie. It looks like something is bothering you.”
I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that seasoned Mentors and members of the Brotherhood are bowing down and being subservient to this PeeOhCee Mary-Sue. Elysia has done nothing to earn her position and it has never been explained how she managed to get her position in this era.
It gets better later.
“I was tending to some errands, but of course, Mirabeau decides to host a meeting when its more convenient for himself,” she bitterly disclosed to me, her small jaw tight. “What’s more, the entire Creed is already in mayhem, and he still sends scouts out to these social missions. Shay is still out there.” The edge of her eyes searched behind me.
And...whose fault is that? It's not as if you didn't know Shay was around; it's not as if you weren't warned he was in the city. What has Elysia been doing? Nothing! She's been sending her own recruits on social missions and going on useless suicide missions to 'teach them a lesson', when she didn't even know who Shay was! Imagine granting that woman a Mentorship when she knows nothing about the Brotherhood! Peak brown privilege.
“There’s no one here but us,” I calmed her. “I agree with you; we have more serious priorities. Do you believe that’s what this meeting is about?” I held James’ suspicions within arm’s reach; was it possible Sophie was feeling that too?
Yes, that priority is called Shay Fucking Cormac, and you ignored him. You couldn't even be bothered to ask Mirabeau about it. It's not as if he didn't know.
“I wasn’t briefed. I was merely informed by Quemar,” she quipped with crossed arms.
“I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s still recovering from his injuries, and stays mostly in the upper floor near the apse. He’s been frequently talking to Bellac.” Now that Quemar saw the fatal damage Shay inflicted, it would come to no surprise he would seek some solace with the man who’s heard of Shay the most. “Not that Bellac tells me much, anyways.”
You have to love how these Mentors are kept in the dark from each other. Mirabeau is an exception because he was an enigma in real life and sort of a double/triple agent, but the rest are being kept in the dark for no reason aside from this shitty plot. Bellec out of all of them would know exactly the threat Shay would pose and act accordingly. There is no reason for them to be secretive over this.
“Right. How are you handling things?”
I pressed my lips together for a moment, “As best as I can.” We both stood in silence. It wasn’t for long.
“…It’s been a lot,” she confided in me. I lowered my eyes to her, and she stared at the bookshelf mindlessly. “A lot has happened since the past week. With the loss of Quemar’s team, and…Elysia, I’m so sorry. I’m so deeply sorry about James.” She exhaled deeply, and pressed her hand against her eyes.
One thing (among many) I have to ask is this: why are we justifying the shitty behaviour of a shitty person? Elysia is directly responsible for her team. She mentors them. She trains them. For whatever reason, she does not inform them of an Assassin hunter in their midst and she blames the one man who made that warning. The loss of Quemar's team could have been avoided had the Assassin network been used, but no. All of these Assassins are incompetent and it all lays at the feet of this magical brown woman put there by Enlightenment Affirmative Action.
“It never gets easier.”
I looked away, “No. It never does. But his death won’t be in vain. Shay will be brought to justice.”
I am having a hard time feeling pity for this immortal who has seen hundreds of people die during her lifetime. Consider how quick she is to threaten or attempt to murder those who cross her. Is that really someone with the capacity to feel deeply, let alone regret? No. This is a bait-and-switch. It should never be forgotten that this magical Gypsy did not know who Shay was despite having access to the Assassin archives. It is pure laziness on her part. Every death she cries over now is directly tied to her.
She sighed at this (perhaps in disbelief), “I hope you’re right; he’s been free from justice for far too long.”
“Then let’s be that change.” I rested my hand on her shoulder, and she mildly froze when she looked at it, and then to me. “…Thank you, Sophie.”
She reached, and held my hand with her opposite, warm one, “Always, Elysia.”
This dialogue pains me. It is such a pain to read how this Mary Sue refused to learn anything about Shay Cormac or the fall of the American colonies, and now she's promising to 'be that change'. Christ Almighty. It cannot get any more disingenuous than this.
The elder man fixed a cuff of his sleeve, and a fresh brew of coffee simmered beside his file. He set it aside, though he did not meet our look when he gestured his hands open, “I know it’s early morning, but I appreciate you’re all here.” He paused a moment to clear his throat. “There is a matter to address, and one that we are all aware of by now: François-Thomas Germain, the leader of the coup to overtake the Templar Order is dead, as well as the support he has garnered. With Élise de la Serre’s whereabouts unknown, we can safely assume the Order is powerless, and is in no state to resurrect itself.”
I cannot get over the fact Germain and the other antagonists were wiped out by a bunch of anime/Kingdom Hearts stand-ins. It'd be hilarious were this not taken so seriously. I have to admire how Mirabeau learned this so quick, but Shay being in France for weeks flew under the radar. You deserve to get wiped out if your skills are that bad.
He took a small drink of his beverage, and opened one of the two largest files he had brought. He skimmed through it, and found the corresponding papers he was searching for. We all waited respectfully for the obvious topic to surface, and yet…none of it dealt with Shay Cormac. Instead, we were briefed on the expansion of social events to recruit others, and give recon to several districts. Bellac caught my gaze, and his eyes hardened. I shrugged a shoulder up, pretending to fix my harness. He took the signal.
From what I'm getting here, Mirabeau is being deliberately deceptive here, and may have something to do with the usurpers. If he's not talking about Shay Cormac, his character is being ret-conned on purpose. There is no way Mirabeau, in canon, would ever take Shay's threat lightly. Here you have the man who wiped out the American colonies in your country, amidst an Order that is threatened by an ongoing Revolution. It is a recipe for disaster. Promoting social events while he is running around and while chunks of your Order was destroyed is reckless and dangerous. It just doesn't make sense.
“If I may,” Bellac leaned forward in his seat, locking his fingers together, “While we look forward to the progress….Shay is still out there.” Beylier, Sophie and Quemar said nothing, but examined Mirabeau for an answer.
The headmaster came prepared, and weighed Bellac’s provoking look despite having Quemar in-between (who gladly sat himself back to avoid the situation), “As I stated before, and I will state again: no student or Master will be going after Shay Patrick Cormac at this time.” The tension that muddled on Quemar’s acquiesced face was hidden well, but Beylier was already on top of it.
This is another problem. Bellec survived Shay's purge, and you bet there would be huge fights between him and Mirabeau over this issue. Bellec would not be thrown under the bus on this issue and he would probably strangle Mirabeau if he refused to take him seriously. If you are not sending people to go after Shay at the moment because of ill preparedness, it does not give you an excuse to delay it. You delayed passing on the knowledge he was in France. Whose fault is that? Yours.
“It is not a matter of whether we should deal with Shay or not…” Beylier splayed his fingers out, and tapped them once in Mirabeau’s direction, “it is that we should.”
The answer is pretty self explanatory: you 100% should, and there is no ifs ands or buts. You do not let a maneater into your camp, no more than you'd willingly expose your soldiers to cholera. You are risking decimation of your forces; as we can see, that's already happened. Oops.
Mirabeau countered with one hand pressed against the arm of his chair, “That is a move too risky to consider. We are low on numbers. I’ve had to make adjustments to make sure this Creed is covered shall another event like our previous one happens again.”
You are low on numbers because you willingly sent recruits after the most feared Assassin hunter in the Templar Order. There is no one else to blame but your incompetence. Holy shit. You know, Les promised she'd make the Brotherhood more competent but this is 100% in the opposite direction.
“It will happen again if we don’t do something about it,” Sophie interjected, standing up this time and signaling her open palm to accentuate her concern. “We lost fellow Assassins to this man, and you want to stand idly by?? For what gain, what purpose Mirabeau if not for the Creed???”
Good point. And it's for this shitty plot, by the way, because Les and her co-authors think it's exciting.
“That’s enough! The room is fogged with this bluster,” the sudden aberration of Mirabeau’s annoyance alerted not only the astounded Sophie, but the rest of us. The elder Master recovered, but not well enough to dissuade Beylier and Bellac’s glares. “Shay is a dangerous man, and I will not allow any further action until my say so. Is that understood??”
Asking questions =/= bluster, and at this point, Mirabeau is just begging for excuses not to do anything. There is no logical reason why they wouldn't do anything, but then again, it's the Lore Down Pat author talking. Shay is so dangerous, the magical Woman of Colour was utterly oblivious to his existence!
“Though I do not agree with Mirabeau…” Quemar spoke to ameliorate the uneasy discussion, “I agree it’s too risky to go in without some sort of reinforced plan. We can learn from the mistakes.”
All of these mistakes are from you and you alone. You have no idea how hard I am rolling my eyes at this.
“Mistakes are not meant to be repeated,” Beylier replied, and this earned a curt stare from Mirabeau. But the topic was dropped there. No one could say another word without tipping the scales. So, Mirabeau carried the conversation along to other matters, though I could safely say only half of us were paying attention.
Know how this could've been solved? Telling the Magical Woman of Colour who the fuck Shay Cormac was. It also helps to tell your recruits instead of sending them off into suicide missions and social campaigns. A little common sense would help.
I do agree on 'only half of us are paying attention'. Very few people are actually reading this story as closely as I am, so the authors should be pleased someone is paying attention.
Again, my thoughts were consumed by the voice in the back of my mind, and the British man who honed in those concerns; the journal filled with various cases of Mirabeau’s contradicting missions, and where his own intentions laid. Surely, he wouldn’t want any of us dying, not when our numbers were low. But something else about his tone….irked me. He was lecturing us like children should we ever oppose him, like if he were hiding something.
Just imagine for a second: you're an immortal. You're a member of the Assassin Brotherhood and you're a Mentor. For all those years, you've harboured zero knowledge or suspicions of your co-workers. You've never wondered about what politicians do for favours or for secret codes. You never inquire about what Mirabeau does for a living or what the politics are in France. Now, imagine being chosen as a Mentor, being responsible for recruits, and never asking them what their suspicions are. Imagine never hearing their concerns, advice, or hearing their intel.
That is where we are at. Elysia could have listened to James' concerns if she actually listened. But she wanted to be the tough, immovable, intolerable feminist so James' concerns went unheard. In lieu of Assassin numbers being low, why was she sending Arno and the Baguette Boy Band out for capture the flag missions and a botched Church mission? Why was she so eager to see them die to 'prove a point'?
If the Brotherhood is willing to throw away so many lives, that is a direct result of their incompetence. You are being talked to like children because you are children.
He ended the meeting not too long after. He waved everyone off, and whether it be from tiredness or exasperation…everyone in the room gave him a suspicious look before moving themselves away. I got up last, noticing Bellac lingered by the opened door. He held his scruffy chin in his hand, and signaled me with a jerk of his head.
Everyone should be suspicious, because you just had a Mentor downplay an Assassin Hunter. That's OK for Elysia though, because she's not white.
“I need this mission carried out, by today if possible,” he answered calmly.
I gave it a look through, skimming the few pages, and the name. Mirabeau must have expected me to simply walk away, for he turned his back to me to inspect the fireplace behind us.
I remained in place, “Why this target?”
Mirabeau gave a second look to me. “What do you mean?” Mildly confused.
I questioned further, strong in my tone, “To eliminate a mere banker; he doesn’t sound life-threatening to me.”
Elysia truly deserves a pat on the back. She's a Mentor, and she has no awareness of the very targets she is tasked to eliminate. She possesses no intel. And, she isn't aware of the hold bankers have on countries. Where is that 'worker's rights' rhetoric now?
“He is a banker for the Templar Order,” Mirabeau clarified.
I didn’t buy it, “That’s currently dismantled.”
Technically, no. Élise is still alive, as are her followers. France has multiple Templar cells, and we are not forgetting the Order of the Black Cross. The Inner Sanctum would not allow such a dissolution to occur. Once again, Elysia is showing her ignorance of the very Order she is serving.
Mirabeau’s eyes calmly boiled, “Are you questioning the integrity of the mission?”
“I am, yes.” The sunken spots of his skin darkened when he stepped a bit aside from the fire. He took to his mug, and lifted it to take a longer drink from it. I remained in place, battling his authority in the least, aggressive way.
'Calmly boiled' is a misnomer. It's also a contradiction. You could have used 'simmering'. In any case, Elysia never 'battles authority' in the 'least aggressive way'. She is the stereotype of the mouthy, demanding Woman of Colour who always talks back to Fucking White Males. However, if she actually knew Mirabeau's behaviour, she'd actually be aware that he's a pretty mysterious, if not shady, guy. Reminder he had secret correspondences with the king. Does Les know this? I don't think so.
He finally took to speak to me, though avoided my direction, “Why the sudden urge to ask such questions?”
“I’m merely asking.”
“Have I lost your trust?”
“No, you have not,” I lied.
“Carry out the mission, for the good of the Creed,” he remained silent, and took to his seat. He motioned me away. My nails dug into the file.
She's a Mentor. She's allowed to ask questions from another Mentor; she's not a recruit. In any case, Mirabeau's secrecy and her aggressiveness are both unwarranted. Mirabeau would know the Templar Order is not actually dissolved and would be at risk of being annexed from another Order. There is no fully eliminating Templars because it's a tiered system.
'For the Good of the Creed' in this case means obtuseness, obfuscation, and compartmentalization. For the plot, of course.
What a bastard.
And you're a bitch.
“What did you want to talk about in regards to Arno?”
He nodded in understanding, and expressed his intention, “I want to let the boy have more freedom with his training. We can't keep holding him by the hand forever, so I want him to pick and choose when he wants to refer to us or to respect when he doesn't. He needs to learn to become an Assassin in his own right."
You have trained him for two fucking years. You mean to tell me you couldn't grasp his talent in this years? Or where you doing diddly fucking nothing? You're so worried about recklessness from him when you let scores of younger, worse recruits die. There is no way Les can ever make me love this character, especially after all her shitting on Arno.
I pushed aside my anxiety, “In order for him to grow, we have to put trust in him. I agree for now. Maybe then, he won’t be so reckless.”
Bitch, you wanted to murder him when he said you were tanking a business. He's not reckless - you are. Every action and subsequent reaction is because of your recklessness.
I would appreciate some self awareness for once.
“Maybe that’ll lessen his stubbornness.”
Stubborn? He's been a crybaby cuck this entire story.
“Will you talk to him later today?”
"Probably.”
“I know this goes without saying…” I felt my shoulders sink, and the gravity hold them there, “What happened to James won’t happen to Arno, I’ll make sure of it, Bellac.”
Sure it won't. Not like you tried to kill him in an earlier chapter because he told you your Affirmative Action status wasn't bringing in a profit and you nearly drove your employees to poverty. I totally, unequivocally believe you.
I hit hard when I landed in that distant chapel, but still…the quiver rested on my back by a miracle when I came to. A beacon of something lost trying to hold onto what was left. What good left was in me.
You've never been good. Get over yourself.
The Training Room walls pulsed inward, and everything out of my radius blurred to that of a smear; the bullseye sharpened in view, and in the middle I pictured his face.
The man who killed James right in front of me.
The arrow shot, and marked itself on the farthest ring. Missing.
Look, you are going to need more than a bow and arrow to outdo Shay Cormac. Connor Kenway might be able to do it, but he's had years of experience on the Frontier. Shay has, from the looks of it, a weapon that can reload in quick succession. Your bow and arrow is no match for his range and firepower.
Your hands were put to better use.
Like what? Giving handjobs to Link?
You know what you did.
I was out of practice…
But that’s not the real reason.
A few more shots, my aim got better, but it was not what it used to be.
Because you changed.
For the better, or worse?
Depends.
On?
You.
I rolled my eyes.
All this inner dialogue reminds me of the 'Inner Goddess' from 50 Shades of Grey. In this case, it actually is an inner goddess. Or something.
“We’ll get there when we get there. Besides, I like his hair.”
“More of a reason for Charlotte to braid it.”
He smacked his lips, “….I’ll get it cut today.” He surveyed the bow in my hand, and the target stationed at the other side of the quarter. “I didn’t know you were an archer.” He leaned nosily, almost childlike when he opened his expression so defenseless like that.
The few times Arno is not crying or being an incompetent shit, he is being treated like an adult baby. Elysia does not even see him or treat him like a man. He's an adult by now, and has spent two years in the Creed, yet Elysia wants others to braid his hair and considers his expressions 'childlike' and 'defenseless'. It's irksome.
“A while back,” I corrected, taking another arrow in my grasp. “A lot has happened since then.”
“…..How long is a while back?”
A week, to be specific.
I met his glance, though he strained his eyes to the target instead, “What do you mean?”
“……” He said nothing at first, and his hand brushed against the top of his lip. His eyes searched for the words. “When your face changed….when we were with James.” I’m not saying I forgot all about that, but that was definitely thrown under the pile of my other growing concerns. “You didn’t look like yourself.”
I played it cool, “Oh, no? What did I look like then?”
Demon Spawn from Hell, maybe DMV manager. I'll let you take your pick. Maybe there was some glowing eyes and floating hair.
I scowled sadly. Was Arno expecting me to threaten him?
I remembered my promise to him in the de la Serre manor, “Tell me what’s on your mind, Arno.”
Considering you've threatened him for less, his hesitancy towards speaking with you is warranted. Everything is a threat to the Magic Woman of Colour.
I hummed, “….And why is that?”
He exhaled the tense coil in his chest, rubbing his lip again, “If you had wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it already. You knew that I knew already. Yet, you didn’t threaten me about it.”
I agreed, “…No. I didn’t.”
This is why remembering what you write is so important. In earlier chapters, Elysia did just that when she nearly strangled Arno - in front of spectators no less - for telling her she was destroying the Café. She tried to kill him for suggesting she work with her rival, Orfeo. She tried to kill him in front of her own employees because she could not stand being corrected by an underling. This attempt at character development is insulting. She has done nothing to earn the respect of others; it is Arno who is expected to change for her. She is only acting nice because he took the brunt for her mistake.
That's not character development. That's pinning the blame of your inaction and inadequacy on someone objectively better than you, all because you cannot stand to see them succeed.
“Can you teach me?”
I paused in my hold, keeping the bow lowered instead, “Teach you archery?”
Arno nodded, inspecting the weapon in my grasp, “Yes. I’ve never tried, but I would like to.”
Arno knows how to use the Phantom Blade and muskets. He might've learned archery as a noble, but by that time, firearms were the preferred sporting tool. His own skills are ret-conned for this Mary Sue.
The wind breezed into the open quarters, and a soft silence fell. I pointed ahead, and the words pushed out a hushed whisper.
“Fire-“
“OH!” The arrow averted upwards, and Arno grunted from the hasty recoil. He rolled his shoulder briefly, and stared at the target board ahead. “Huh, where did the arrow go?” He followed my look, staring up at the ceiling where the arrow had embedded itself. “Oh.”
“You’re going to need a lot of practice, judging on this alone.”
1. For arrows, you say 'loose', not fire.
2. Arno should know how to handle recoil from shooting muskets. He has broad shoulders and muscles already; he should pick up the skill quickly.
3. Note how his skills as an Assassin and as a man are put aside for the epic, magical, flawless Woman of Colour. This is absolutely deliberate.
We eventually headed downstairs where the café’s business was slow, but forgiving; a few of the usual stranglers seating themselves and being served the fresh brew of coffee Bridgette had made. Soon did I aid her with our table, an extra sugar bowl placed to accommodate our needs.
Another sign Les did no research: sugar was not as common as she thinks it is during this time. There was tax. There were rations, especially since Saint Domingue went through a slave revolt. Amazingly, she has escaped the government regulations - but then again, Les can't decide if we're in 1793 or 1791.
“Thank you, Bridgette,” I replied.
“You’re welcome, Elysia,” she smiled lightly at this, and tucked a loose strand behind her ear, “If you need anything else, let me know.” She departed, leaving Arno and me, seated side by side.
“She’s so nice. How long has she been here?” Arno questioned.
I took a sugar cube into my hand, and stirred it into my sustaining-life drink, “She’s fairly new compared to everyone else who did work here. Marceline has been here the longest, and Bridgette was hired last. Apparently, I was scary enough that she almost didn’t apply.”
I distinctly remember - and my blog posts will vouch for this - that Elysia was feared in the Café. Employees ran out of her way when she walked down the halls. They did not look her in the eye. And, most importantly, they all nearly lost their jobs because of her. She was scary for no reason than the fact she is an epic thunder cunt. Arno should be in charge of the Café, not her, but Elysia is made the owner for no reason other than to wax poetic about how she's a strong and inspiring Woman of Colour.
“I wouldn’t say scary just…….” he shrugged, though paused when I gave him a good stare.
“Finish your thought.”
Thunder cunt. There.
Charlotte met my view as she gave a quick, inviting look to the counter. I got the message and walked over to see her emptying a dirty tray with utensils and cups. Her atrabilious behavior from James’ death was almost forgotten by many, but I knew she still held that tucked well inside of herself. Still, she was moving on, like the rest of us.
Ah, Charlotte the anime Meme Mom. No personality aside from her being giggly or melancholic. Gotta love it.
There's that thesaurus sucking again.
I stared, “I swear, Dorian,” yet tore the bread, giving him half of it. “Now drink your coffee, or I will chug it.”
“While it’s still hot? I doubt it,” he pouted lightly, lifting it to give a taste. “You’re not so big and scary anymore, Elysia. Not since I saw James’ uncle.”
“Tch…” I rolled my eyes, “Don’t even remind me. That man had a mast stuck up his ass.”
He was infinitely more likable than the woman who nearly choked him out for saying she was - again - destroying a business. Just another illiterate brown woman in charge of something she has no business in.
“What the hell happened?” Stephen gasped, both hands on the table, “Is Arno making a fool of himself? And I missed out?”
“Give him ten minutes and he’ll more than likely do it again,” I chuckled lightly.
'Tee hee, aren't I so relatable now even after everything I've done? I'm a good person now, I swear'.
Stephen is the one who can't speak a lick of French, in France, where English was not widely spoken at the time. Gotta love it. And, if I read right, he's the time traveler.
“How dare you,” Arno quipped swiftly with a pout.
Stephen regarded Arno with a considering look, and tapped Arno's mug pointedly, "Drink more coffee, you look like you haven't slept a wink."
Quite sure he won't be sleeping any time in the future, if he's getting fucked during the night. My wager is on Stephen or Clement, or someone else.
“I know it’s been….an overwhelming week, and things…..” I sighed, “Without James, things are much harder. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
No, you aren't. When a character's actions contradict what they say, nothing the author does will make the reader believe what they're writing. Elysia is directly responsible for James' death. No more, no less. She isn't sorry. She is only sorry for her reputation.
“Take your time, Elysia,” Stephen nodded to urge me further.
I took a moment, “I read through all the notes James had jotted down; Arno, you weren’t there, but James had a hidden compartment with all of his findings about his suspicions about Mirabeau. I can’t disagree the more I keep reading.”
Arno narrowed his eyes at this, “On Mirabeau? What kind of suspicions?”
“That perhaps Mirabeau is not looking in the best interests of the Creed.”
You know, the ignorance everyone has here towards Mirabeau's political career is astounding. More so since they are openly planning a revolt against another Mentor. Since Mirabeau died in 1791 (as did Bellec), there is a small window for action here. Consider that two years have been wasted deliberately over what Mirabeau is doing for the Estates General and the National Assembly. Neither of those have been mentioned more than once in this story.
This concerned him, the napkin in his hand lightly crushed in his grip, “…I see.” He didn’t object.
I resumed, “I’m already jeopardizing my position merely telling you this, but I believe James was onto something…especially with what happened. The timing is too coincidental; when we were quarantined to stay inside without any missions….that is when Mirabeau knew of Shay’s movements, and refused to let us know. This is only a suspicion, but the result is the same; the entire lot inside the Grand Hall was Shay’s doing. James was a causality of Mirabeau’s negligence, and I cannot forgive that.”
What cannot be forgiven here is that Elysia, a Mentor - and I will stress this as many times as I have to - did not know who Shay Cormac was. In fact, she knew he killed Arno's father and elected not to tell him, then proceeded to blame him when he went after Shay. Even then, James was the only one who believed Arno when he told him Shay massacred the French Rite. Elysia would have disparaged Arno for that. James made a sacrifice for Arno, and Elysia repays it by being aloof when he was alive. James did not even trust her with his findings. What does that tell you?
James died for Elysia, and his death was solely because she didn't tell him Shay was around. She did not even bother to ask Bellec who he was. This is pure gaslighting.
The trio remained silent.
I leaned forward, “…In saying this…you are more than welcomed to remove yourself from my team. There will no doubt be a consequence to all of this if we’re discovered. But a dangerous threat is still walking out there, and I’m going to make it my mission to bring him down, alone.”
Oh, like you figuring out who he was, alone, worked, right? I'm eager to see how this is going to pan out. The future fight between Arno and Shay - and maybe even Connor - will be replaced with this Magic Woman of Colour whose only purpose is to usurp other characters. Quite the epic!
“Fuck that, I want in,” Stephen said firmly, slapping his hand on the table. “Four hands are better than two, and all that jazz.”
Can the time traveler use age appropriate language? Thanks. My head is still spinning from that Eiffel Tower gaffe.
I looked to Arno last, the young man contemplating with a set jaw. He studied the table closely before meeting my gaze, nodding, “The dead deserve the truth…we’ll make it our mission to give it to them.”
“I agree.”
Hey Arno, are you forgetting that this thunder cunt admitting Shay killed your father and you just gerrymandered the truth away? James told you his reservations, not Elysia. You owe nothing to this woman.
Stephen asked, “Then what’s our objective?”
“We need to locate Shay,” I replied again.
Have you tried asking the Cabbage Patch Kids?
"Do we even have a lead to start with?" Clement inquired, folding his hands on top of his book, "The council has been quiet as of late...have you heard anything from them, mentor?"
“That’s also the problem; Mirabeau made it very clear that we were not to search for Shay after Quemar’s failed invasion plan. An argument ensued and it…did not go as planned.” Clement slightly grimaced at this, only able to visualize the scene itself.
The Mentors are quiet about Shay because they know they fucked up. There is no other way around it. Quemar launched a bumrush against him and, predictably, it failed. Every one of these Mentors is an incompetent, suicidal maniac and I am amazed the author thinks she is 'fixing the plot'.
"What do we know about Shay?" Arno asked next, offering a stern glance, "Beside the fact that he's from America."
“From what I’ve been briefed,” I recalled, crossing my arms as I sat back, “Shay was under the mentor of a man named Achilles Davenport. He was an Assassin that turned Templar. Bellac used to be part of the Brotherhood above the Colonies, and the same time when Shay became a problem. He slaughtered countless there, to a point where it was…unmanageable to stop.”
You have been 'briefed'. You just never bothered to read anything about Assassin history. Of course, in this context, the Assassins are going to make Shay seem like the villain, but there is no fucking way this woman spent however many years in the Brotherhood without knowing this story. She asked - literally asked! - who he was!
"Does anyone know why he snapped? Or is that a 'Select Master Secret' too?" Stephen asked, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
Ever bothered to ask Achilles? Or Connor?
“Not that I’m aware of,” I shook my head. “Whether the cause has something to do with his onslaught of countless people….that in itself is another matter out of our control.”
"Has he had dealings here in France before?" Clement asked next, "It seems a bit...odd that an American would come all the way here without any prior experience." I gave a look to Arno…who in turn sighed, and settled back in his seat. Quiet for a moment.
“….Shay was the one who killed my biological father.”
“….That’s rough buddy,” Stephen frowned at that, momentarily earning an arched brow from Clement’s direction.
Nice Avatar reference there. In any case, yes, Shay has been in France before. He was the escort to Ben Franklin - who miraculously is still alive, by the way.
You have to love how they treat the news of Arno's father's death: it's just 'meh'. They cried over James. They extend no hand to Arno. He is expected to take it like a man despite not giving the chance to act like one.
Arno continued after a shake of his head, “The night before…James passed, I had a lead that led me to Elise’s father’s killers….so I went. I saw Shay….and he slayed them all. He took down Assassins, and he took down Templars; he mentioned something about…..Pieces of Eden, one of which he killed my father for….or at least that’s what Bellac told me.”
Come on. You know what Pieces of Eden are. It is a matter of convenience that Shay killed the Templars, because we need the Kingdom Hearts baddies to take over.
“It’s safe to say that Shay doesn’t appear to have any sort of alliance,” I informed, “which in turn might make it that much more difficult to locate him. Paris is large, and that will bide us time for whatever he’s here for.”
You have an extensive spy network. Use it. Stop being lazy.
"But it buys him time as well..." Clement mumbled, "Whatever he's up to...he'll get closer to it."
“By any chance,” Stephen directed his look to Arno, “have you heard anything from your sister?”
1. You've wasted two years.
2. For the last time, Élise is not Arno's sister. I get you want to hammer in that gay plot, but please. Spare me.
The Dorian shook his head, “No….last time I saw her, that was a while ago. And….I don’t know if she’s the one who called Shay over….”
“What makes you think that?”
Honestly, Élise has next to no impact on this story, because she's the wrong redhead. Only the Woman of Colour can have red hair and be important. Arno would have no reason to think about Élise because she is literally not important.
“If you want to look at it from a logical standpoint,” I offered, holding my chin in my hand, “Elise is next in control to overtake the Templar Order; would it be so farfetched that she would call some sort of alliance with Shay that he in turn got rid of the coup that overthrew her father? No….it’s plausible; Mirabeau hadn’t revealed how he knew of Shay’s whereabouts, and none of the other Masters interrogated that fact when we were told of the news.” I sighed, and added, “…But Master Sophie and Beylier refuse to believe that; they don’t believe your sister would stoop that low.”
From a logical standpoint, the elimination of Germain and his acolytes, especially given his Sage status, is far fetched as to be unbelievable. Shay's motives for doing this are unclear, and the replacements for these antagonists are underwhelming. Logically speaking, there is no way the Assassins would not know about Shay Cormac's presence in France. There is no way Elysia would not know, but then again, she is a Mentor who hasn't a clue about her Order's own history. Nothing about this is logical.
"Well...." Stephen started slowly, a hand on his chin, "then we should go talk to her and ask, shouldn't we?"
Clement took a heavy breath, his forefinger and thumb holding between his brows before shooting Arno a look, “If Elise did contact Shay….what are you going to do about it?”
“……Honestly? I don’t know,” he revealed with a heavy sigh of his own. “I know Elise holds a grudge against me, I know we still have history we haven’t overcome…but if there’s anything I know about my sister is that she would never call someone like Shay for help; she’s too independent for that, and would never want to drag anyone into her problems. It’s….also hope that she didn’t call my father’s killer for help…even if it’s wishful thinking.”
Élise is not Arno's sister. This erasure of their romantic relationship may fool others but it's not fooling me. Élise did have a right to distrust Arno - he was the last person to see M. de la Serre alive and failed to deliver the letter which could have saved his life - but once she realized he was innocent, she forgave him and they began to work together because no one else would. She knew the circumstances around Charles' death; why would she call Shay?
"So we're back to square one..." Clement rubbed his temple deeply, "Unless you go and ask anyways. It's risky if you ask me if you go to her now..."
This story is 177,000 words, and no actual plot has emerged. We have been at square one for 19 chapters.
Stephen countered with a raised finger, "Ah, but is anyone going to expect us to ask her?”
I countered, “No, but Mirabeau is on a high level of security; it’s something to consider that we might be followed, and the last thing we need is to raise suspicion that we’re pursuing a personal goal without the approval of the Creed.”
You've sent recruits on suicide missions without the approval of the Creed. You starve and murder innocents. You rob people of their grain so your boyfriend can get rich. You nearly maim and murder a novice all because he told you you were in the wrong. You are a walking hypocrite, and should be expelled from the Creed.
“Why don’t Arno and Clement go search for Elise, and you and me try to find intel about Shay’s whereabouts? That way it doesn’t seem as suspicious.”
“Actually…I’d rather go by myself,” Arno cut in, garnering a look from us. “Not that I don’t want help but….maybe it’s best. I trust my sister.” Clement's shoulders eased slightly at the sound of that, though the stern expression he wore didn't wane.
Élise being Arno's sister is never going to go away, is it? I suppose you need to hammer in the man train somehow.
“Then our objectives are clear. I will send word when to regroup.” I stood up, but paused, “…..I know I’m asking a lot from you all…”
You ask, but you never deliver. You'd kill recruits to save your own skin.
“Antoine Dubious,” I revealed, flipping through the few pages, “A banker of sorts, notorious for aiding Templars; Mirabeau was quick to the defensive when I tried to ask further, and this tells me this is not an ordinary target. I’d like to ask him a few questions.”
My French is rusty, but even I know it should be 'Dubois'. Not 'dubious'.
“Ohh, a partnering mission?” Stephen rolled his head around, away from the entertainer and flashing me a roguish grin. "Anything that makes Mirabeau's life more difficult is good in my books. Does that file even have a description of the guy?"
“A foreigner is all it says, so I’m assuming he’s not French,” I stood up at this, picking up the file. “You have a chaotic energy around you; is this what your generation is all like?”
...I really, really have no words. Elysia is a foreigner. How come she doesn't interpret 'foreigner' to mean outsider? I swear, these authors are dumb as rocks.
"Ha! You should live long enough to see the generation younger than me," he remarked, straightening up to follow, "they're much worse."
I rolled my eyes, “Then maybe it’s a good thing I won’t live for that long.”
No idea what era Stephen is really from, but might I suggest Duolingo for French? Maybe Elysia can show us given how many times she rolls her eyes.
We crossed our way to the upper districts, where the wealthy were free of any distressing sign of the country’s irreversible recession.
Odd; given the amount of coffee and bread this woman consumes you'd think she was a wealthy individual. There has been so little mention of the actual revolution, you'd think it wasn't happening!
He was focused as always; the memory of his broken expression and soaked eyes a nightmare I had abruptly woken from. When he saw James on the floor. When he saw him lying on the stone bed. When I ignited his corpse to leave the world. I shut my eyes briefly, removing the thought. What a horrible thought.
It’s not the last.
Indeed. James was little more than an NPC whose character development arises from his death, versus when he was alive. His death is the direct result of Elysia not telling him Shay Cormac was in the city. All of these mope scenes of her having these inner struggles mean nothing to me, because she's the one that started it all. I cannot feel pity for people like that.
Stephen sighed lightly and put his chin on one of his propped-up knees, "Casing places out is the most boring part of this job..."
“Has this only been your job?”
He gave a side-eyed glance, "Well, the only job I've been good at, probably. Which, I'm not sure how bad that makes me out to be."
Who made this man an Assassin? This should be the easiest part of your job, because you're just watching people.
I answered gently, “I knew someone who was also in the Creed very young. She was the sweetest thing….despite being good at murdering people.”
"Sounds like someone I probably would have gotten along with," he said absentmindedly again, eyes back to scanning the crowd below us.
A clean stake through the heart.
Oh nice, yandere simulator!
I stopped at the edge of the alleyway’s entrance, peeking in to see the man had arrived at a dead-end, and the two brutes having him cornered. One flicked out a hand knife, the other holding his blade readily. Did he knowingly walk into a dead-end?
“Give us your money if you know what’s good for you!” one sneered.
"Well, this is unfortunate..." the taller man drawled out in fluent French. "If you know what's good for you, you'd leave me be, gentlemen."
"Kill him!" the braver of the two signaled to the other, "And grab everything you can- HAH-"
If the dialogue doesn't kill me, these action scenes will. I cringe every time I read them.
The thrown daggers met their mark, glistening silver as they protruded out the back of their hands, shakily averting their attention back to me. I walked ahead and paused enough to leave space between us.
“Leave,” I advised. The two didn’t bother to question, and hurried themselves out of the alleyway. I stepped forward once more, “You're the man named Antoine Dubious?"
"My, my," Antoine crooned, sounding positively delighted of my intervention, "Miss Assassin, to what do I owe this pleasure?" He was expecting an Assassin.
Here comes the le epic villain monologue. Dubious starts his dubious intentions.
“A deal.”
"Oh-ho, a deal you say?" Antoine's voice was coated with amusement. "And what do I get out of this deal, hmm, Miss Assassin?”
“You have a target on your head, but I’m willing to overlook it. Give me information I need.”
She's gonna give you a citation and a ticket to visit the DMV. Better meet your appointment on time.
The man hummed, considering, before leaning against the alley wall behind him and crossing his arms against his chest, "And what sort of information were you looking for?"
I stood a few yards away, unable to make out his face from the strong light hitting the top of his hat. Yet, a strong smell splattered from his stance. My eyes searched the tingling, indistinct wisps surrounding his arms. Clouded, blurry. A ring coiled on his middle digit gleamed, almost pulsing. Was he concealing something unnatural in it?
Oh God. It's not a Zelda curse, is it? Because that's absolutely predictable and cheesy. Stick with the sci-fi elements, girl.
“You’re a banker for the Templars.” He didn’t deny it. “Are you a Templar yourself?”
"That sounds almost like a trap." He commented, "If I say yes, are you going to kill me? For the good of that pesky Brotherhood of yours?"
You already know he's a banker for the Templars. He's not going to deny it if it's the truth, is he?
“No,” I replied firmly, “I’m not. Are you a Templar or not?”
He hummed, obviously considering me underneath his hat. "Yes, I suppose I am, Miss Assassin. So, if you're not going to kill me, then what is it that you want?" An amused lit entered his voice.
Your intel should have told you whether he was a Templar or just a scapegoat for them. In any case, he's giving off that rancid stink so please use the firehose on him, yeah?
“For an Order that is little to nonexistent….” I started, “The head of the Assassins wants to cut any funding for it, and that doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense to me and I want to know why….unless Mirabeau personally knows you. That you know something that will put him in a compromising position.”
You know it's actually not non existent and it cannot be non existent. The Templar Order is a hierarchy. Elise is still alive and the General of the Black Cross would take over. second, is Elysia still unaware Mirabeau is a politician?
"Hmmm, well, you could definitely say that he knows me," he rolled a hand in a wheel-like motion, "simply because de La Serre had me keep money safe for both the Order and the Brotherhood when there was a truce."
This was new, “Both had a vault of money….they both knew this?”
...You didn't know there was a truce? Really? Really?
"That was one of the whole points to the truce. If each faction wasn't fighting each other, then they could each share in the profits that can benefit Paris. For the better of Paris."
And Mirabeau knew this, “….He wants the funds.”
You know if Les had done her research and Elysia actually was a character with some intelligence, she'd know that Mirabeau was mired in scandal and racked up substantial debts that the Crown was willing to pay off. That is why he kept a secret correspondence with the King. Once the other Mentors discovered this they asked Arno to burn the letters so the National Assembly would never find out. This was in the game; this was a part of history.
Do your fucking research.
He was making you do his dirty work.
He's a politician. What a shocker.
"It's been a long time, Red."
What.
I flinched, as if his ice fingertips burned my flesh at the very touch.
It wasn't possible.
The air pulsed, and suddenly his back met the brick wall, almost denting it on impact. Stephen suddenly backed up on the onslaught, watching as I inhumanely lifted Akinara to his toes.
Oh hey! It's that Japanese guy from the previous story! The Japanese guy in Rome, when Japan only ever did trade with the Dutch. You can tell how intelligent this girl is.
“What the hell.” I snapped. A fiery pit clung to my chest. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. How to resist it. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, AKINARA.”
"Wait, Akinara?" Stephen asked incredulously, arms open in surprise. Akinara’s wine eyes looked from me to Stephen, eyes glinting in delight. "I thought we were trying to find Antoine! Aki, babe, what are you doing here?"
WHAT.
My thoughts exactly. The time traveler who doesn't speak French in France is having an interracial relationship with the immortal Japanese guy! Ticking off all those boxes!
Akinara let out a delighted laugh, "Elysia, my favorite woman, you've brought me Stephen? Let me down, so I can kiss you!"
WHAT?!
Can I get that framed and hung on my wall?
“Okay, NO-“ I kept my grip firm, and I pointed to Stephen angrily, “YOU, stand there. Don’t you dare MOVE. YOU-“ I shot my attention to Akinara, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him furiously aside. He followed without a fight. My voice trembled with angry force, “What the hell are YOU doing here, Akinara??? I want an answer this time.”
He said haltingly, voice clearly trying not to laugh, "I live here. Also, my name is Antoine. What are you doing here, Elysia?"
Gonna be hard for an ethnic Japanese man, costume aside, to reside in France. Someone, somewhere is going to notice that he is a foreigner. Then again, Les honestly thinks France's demographics resemble today's where there are black people everywhere.
"Just, stop-" I held my hand out to him, his eyes lingering to it before riding up my arm to look at me. Again. How deep he stared. How he held it- I snapped back, eyes wide, heart racing and threatening to suffocate me, "You're supposed to be dead."
Akinara put a hand over his mouth, muffling a laugh. He took a breath and shook his head, spreading his arms out to the side, "I mean, technically I am-"
"It's not funny," I clenched my jaw.
"It's kind of funny.”
I think it's hilarious. This whole plot and story reads like one big 'Meet the Spartans' skit.
"You know what I mean- it’s been three hundred years; you should know what I mean."
He sobered slightly, looking sad as he nodded slowly, "….I know what you meant. It does take more than that to actually kill me, I hope you know now." He drank me. Like I wasn’t actually here, some sort of mirage. "We all thought you were dead too, for what it's worth."
It stung.
For what it's worth, it might've been better if you stayed dead. I would be spared this monstrosity.
"It's been three hundred years, Red. I myself am not the same as I was before, and neither are you. That’s okay. It’s okay."
I stared straight back, trying to ignore the tingling along my face, “…You’re going to fucking hate me; I’m a bitch here.”
You aren't just a bitch. You are a huge thunder cunt. There is nothing likable about this character.
A loud snort echoed through the alley, "You mean you weren't a bitch back then?"
Difference is, Ezio didn't take her shit. With Arno, Elysia can do whatever the fuck she wants, because she's a Magic Woman of Colour.
“You got some fucking nerve,” my flat tone wavered, and I smacked Akinara’s arm back. “I should’ve carried out my mission if I knew it was going to be you.”
IRONY
I R O N Y
I R O N Y
It was food I had never seen before. It smelled hot and seasoned, freshly prepared in the spacious kitchen of Akinara’s (rather expensive) home. Steamed vegetables, and fresh bread cut into slices beside the bowl. How suddenly my stomach craved for it.
Such ample food in a time of scarcity. You would never think most of France's population was at subsistence level.
An old memory of mine played like this, when I had fallen ill, and the same vampire was at my beck and call, never bothered of that fact. He was so…insufferably Akinara.
Ah, so a Japanese vampire who can stand outside in the sun and eat normal human food? Is this Assassin's Creed or Black Butler?
"Babe, how long have you been in France? Have I just been missing you this entire time I've been here?" Stephen asked between sips of his own drink. Akinara looked over at Stephen, affection obviously in his eyes.
"I suppose that's possible, my love. I've been Antoine for a little under a decade now, and I've been in France for maybe.... a little bit less than I've been Antoine." He gave us his dimpled smile. "You're welcome to call me Toni, by the way. All my friends do."
None of these people talk in age appropriate language. No one would call Antoine 'Toni'. They'd call him respective French pet names.
Stephen ducked his head slightly, licking his lips nervously. "Well, you see, it's kind of.... very confusing? Did you want the first time Toni met me, or the first time I met Toni?"
“What the fuck are you talking about.”
I'll say. Stephen isn't just a time traveler, he's a Looper. He meets the Japanese vampire in a different era, and they fall in love, but Stephen doesn't remember the second time around. If this confuses you, it should. It has no place in this story, but hey, the author thinks it's such a cute one, so who am I to judge?
"I believe I've told you about my brother before? Well, he and I trade off factions every few decades to gather the whole picture in information between the two of us. We meet up maybe.... every thirty years or so?" He was so strange.
“I remember something, maybe...it’s been a long time.”
So these Immortals jump from faction to faction every few decades and have not yet come to the conclusion there is no solution here? What a shocker.
"So this isn't the first time I've been a Templar, and it probably won't be the last." He tilted his head to the side, considering. "Honestly how long or short the duration is, depends on how good or bad I view the current faction. The Templars here weren't that bad before the truce broke.... I'm assuming you've seen how different this Brotherhood is compared to Ezio's?"
“…Unfortunately, yes,” I crossed my arms, resisting trying to roll my eyes. “For a couple of years, now.”
Yeah, and you've done nothing to change it. You are venerated as a goddess and you didn't even bother to research anything about the French Brotherhood. That's why you were clueless as to who Shay Cormac was and continue to act as if you are the best thing since sliced bread - and in this time period, bread is worth more than gold.
I sighed “....Akinara....a lot happened since we last-“ I paused, remembering Stephen’s presence, and the whining pout he presented. I reverted back to English, “Alright, I’ll bite; I have suspicions about the man who leads this Brotherhood. You know of Mirabeau and de la Serre.” Akinara nodded, lowering his cup to give me his full attention. “I have suspicions that he might not be as faithful to whatever he’s stringing us along for. That man wanted you dead, and gave vague reasons why. If what you told me is true...”
1. He's a Templar banker. Collateral damage.
2. Mirabeau is a politician. There is no way you have spent all those years in the Brotherhood and you don't know what he does in his personal life.
3. You've worked with him for how many years, again?
Antoine snorted again, "Of course that man wants me dead: he backed out of the truce as soon as de la Serre was dead, and I was the common denominator between the two. I have no obligation to fund his little Creed, especially since he doesn't even have the balls to ask me for the Brotherhood's funds in the first place."
Isn't it nice to have a friend of yours tell you that he holds the key to your Brotherhood's finances, and that he can yank them out any time? Bankers are not to be trusted. You are threatening your very Creed's existence and that is A-OK because your buddy is an immortal vampire.
“I’m a special case,” I commented looking to Stephen who proceeded to enjoy his meal in peace. “They don’t trust my word for…..several reasons.”
"One of which being Mirabeau's a fucking dick." Stephen remarked, not apologetic in the slightest.
Antoine snorted, "Of course he is. Mirabeau's only slightly racist against non-French natives."
Oh, shut the fuck up, bitch. Learn that France was a majority white country at this time. Learn that their xenophobia was for a good reason. Get your fucking Gypsy Mary Sue a roll of tape for her goddamn mouth so she can shut up for once.
Stephen pouted slightly, crossing his arms. "I haven't even met Toni in this time, so no one knows we're dating.... I can be discreet, I'm an Assassin!"
A very poor one, I might add.
“You’re a child. And you, Mr. Sassypants, finish the rest of your soup.”
"Yes, mom,” Stephen kept his stare, and slurped his spoon despite the small blush that crept along his cheeks.
I despise this dialogue almost as much as I despise this characterization.
I paused at the stone, curved railing of the staircase, seeing Quemar had called before I could move out of earshot. He tried not to rush with his cane, correcting his pace until he stood before me.
“Yes?”
“Answer me this.” His dark eyes settled on the head of his cane. He set it beside the railing, and let his large, scarred hand cup the cold grit with ease. He thumbed at it. “What are your opinions on Shay?” He is closer to Mirabeau then the rest.
Opinion? She didn't even know who he was. But hey, she's the Magic Woman of Colour so she gets a pass.
I waited, arching a brow.
The handicapped Master pushed forth, “I….made many mistakes in my life.” His eyes traveled to the bottom floor, where the other Assassins congregated. His right hand tucked to his left side, and I could’ve sworn I saw him visibly wince at the touch. “…This was the worst, by far. Sending them all to face this outcome was never my plan. It was far from being my intention.”
I said nothing.
No one's fault but his own There is no way someone could underestimate Shay's abilities, unless you are the Hispanic author of a Woman of Colour who thinks she's hot shit but doesn't even know anything about the Creed she's a part of.
“But you can’t,” I cut in. “It already happened.”
A sharp edge held his tongue, “I’m aware. I know this.” His head jerked over, showcasing the grays in his hair to the candlelight above, “Don’t act like you’ve never made a mistake in your life, Elysia.” His irritation subsided, and a look of solace seeped into the ridges around his eyes. He couldn’t look my way, as if seeing me were the nest of his troubles. “That you can’t go back and remedy a mistake you made before.”
Uh oh, the Jew angered the PeeOhCee. Were he anyone else she would have thrown him down the steps, because he's speaking truth to power.
My teeth clamped slightly, “…..”
My eyes stilled.
“Have you truly moved on, Elysia? Because…I’m not so sure I can.”
I opened my mouth to say something.
“I left them to face death.”
You left him all alone.
None of these characters are relatable or intelligent. Elysia is supposed to be the protagonist yet nothing she does is admirable. All of these snippets into her thoughts and past life do not make be understand or pity her. She will always be a selfish, unnerving bitch, especially because she usurps everyone else and others are expected to worship her for it.
All you have been thinking about is yourself.
The guilt held me by the wrists, iron locks that dragged the planet’s core along with me.
How selfish. You’re so selfish.
Yeah, actually. I love this lampshading. Before Elysia goes to the Immortal Japanese vampire to get him to tell her everything, I am reminded that this story will go on for hundreds of thousands of more words before it get to its conclusion. Consider that we are in the 19th chapter and nothing major has happened. Other people have summed up stories in fewer words.
This chapter was very dialogue heavy. Despite this, not much information was said and the story did not move forward. Elysia still has learned nothing from her mistakes; in fact, she denies she is capable of making them. She continues to blame everyone else for her own faults. She shows a shocking lack of awareness of her own colleagues. Consider how Les (and by extension, her own character creation) does not know anything about Mirabeau: he was a politician and plagued with scandals. He was heavily in debt, to where the Crown was willing to cover it if he gave them documents about the National Assembly. He managed to keep this from the other Mentors, but the magical Woman of Colour could not deduce that an establishment politician was capable of ling. I guess you can say she's a low information voter.
Absolutely this character is childish. As is this plot. Nothing about it makes sense and it is droning on by this point. Les should have established a concrete plot, yet she has not. Her characterization borders on caricature; Arno is not a man but a child, and her time-traveling, portal hopping Stephen who does not speak French in France falls in love with an immortal Japanese vampire. It reads like parody, and it is. There is no way this could be viewed as a rewrite of the plot of AC Unity. There is nothing historical about it; there is nothing unique about it.
The dialogue is not period-typical, but modern. It reads like social media posts off of Twitter. Specifically, it reads like the 'squeeing' you'd find on art posts involving someone's favourite slash pairing. As for Elysia herself, she continues to be the bipolar, irrational, emotionally driven Woman of Colour who got her position not by merit, but by demanding that she be put there. Of course ,with the screed that Mirabeau is nothing but a 'racist' and that people 'see her differently', it only hammers the point home. Elysia is not hated because she's a brown woman: she is hated because she is a massive thundercunt who happens to be a brown woman.
Consider how she's willing to destroy her own Creed by talking to a Templar banker who can and will yank the funds out from under them. Even though the Templars have suffered a setback, they are not destroyed. Lore Down Pat does not realize the Templars have a hierarchy that is designed to prevent this; consider it a 'designated survivor' event if you will. Also consider how she's willing to turn against her own colleagues for nothing but her own ego. She doesn't love the French people; she doesn't love the Creed. She isn't even a likable antagonist. She is the protagonist and manages to come off as a bigger villain than Shay Cormac - a man she didn't even know existed.
That doesn't make you look good. There are three people writing this, and no one has ever told Les that she is not a talented person. She's been given pats on her back her whole life, and loves to use the race card to dismiss valid criticism. Should it surprise anyone to see that entitlement bleed through her work?
This is not a rewrite, and this is not a story that should be carried by a Gypsy bitch with long ears and glowing hair. It is a joke that continuously writes itself.
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