Pain During the Month of Freedom - Pistols at Dawn Chapter 27

 No real introduction, just that most of the things I predicted in earlier chapters have come to pass. According to the Author's Note, it is a 'race to the finish' from this point onward. Based on what I've read so far, this has been almost two years of fruitless, self masturbatory fantasy. Maybe it'll be worth it in the end.

The wordcount is 263, 471.

The Dorian was restless this morning.

He hardly slept the night before, constantly hearing the bitter city steadily spewing irate and malnourished civilians into the streets; the shattering of windows, the constant shouting of demands and chants…Paris’ decline wasn’t something to ignore anymore. Not that he ever did ignore it, but months of stretched resources had finally hit an invisible and well-agitated hive that challenged whatever diplomacy and order that was left.

It'd be understandable if this happened in the first six months of the Revolution. We are now into its second year, so to see Arno act surprised at any of this is simply not believable. He has chosen to remain in the dark - yet it cannot be solely attributed to him. The way he is written and the things he is focused on is all on the author and her 'rewrite'. 

Arno was fairly confident the café would be safe, but it didn’t ease him when Charlotte continued business as usual, especially opening early mornings that almost touched the end of the twilight disturbances. However, he knew a place like this would be safe if Elysia was around; she wasn’t one to let any kind of nuisance slide, especially anyone agitated that dared to make a ruckus in the space.

I wonder if the author remembered that it was Elysia herself who nearly destroyed the Café. She nearly threw everyone out onto the street because she could not manage money or bring a financial manager on board. Then, when Arno stood up to her, she tried to kill him. Other readers would not remember this important detail, but I do. It's hard to forget. It's a pat on the back for a poorly written character and it is undeserved. 

As was the usual routine, Arno dressed with a final tug of his cowl to feast on a swift breakfast downstairs. There was Bridgette and Marceline who were somewhat eying the streets outside the glass windows.

“Worried about something?” Arno questioned, taking a bite out of his cooked egg.

The younger maid tucked a loose strand behind her ear, and rolled the towel between her grip, “Somewhat, yes.”

Before Arno could ask her to clarify, Marceline added lowly, “Our walk over to Miss Giselle’s café wasn’t exactly what I wanted to see.”

I'll reiterate: Arno shouldn't be surprised AT ALL. Food shortages and price inflation were felt by everyone. He's eating like a King - as is everyone else at the Café - without thinking where that food is coming from. Going back to Chapter 3 or 4, Elysia stole grain from a silo to enrich her boyfriend. She did not once think there'd be consequences to that. 

Second, this is the French Revolution, but there has been zero detail on it in the story. You would never even know this is taking place in 1791 until you saw a date (and there isn't even THAT, I deduced the date). 

Arno arched a brow, stopping midbite of his biscuit, “…In what regards?” The two women remained silent, and Arno had to slightly push to encourage them, “Did it have to do with last night?”  

“You heard that ruckus, did you?” Marceline questioned with a rub of her forehead.

“It sounded like a mob,” the Dorian replied, subtly confused but dreading on the next explanation.

Bridgette’s face contorted to show her discomfort, “It was. They…they hung a baker this morning.”

Arno’s jaw stopped chewing, the fork in the last piece of egg, “…They what?”

Arno being asleep when there's a mob of two hundred people outside is peak Cuck Dorian. As his intelligence is dumbed down in this fic anything he does would SEEM unbelievable to his real self, yet ends up being believable because he is THAT retarded. You can't fall asleep during episodes like that. And apparently, in his two years of being an Assassin, hasn't seen an instance of it either. 

Guess the Bastille siege and subsequent destruction became a dementia episode for him.

“Near the partnering café. Practically in front of it.”

“Whatever for?”

Marceline’s terse voice resounded in the café, “They hung the poor bloke to pillage his café. Simple as that.”

Arno didn’t want to sound naïve of any sort— “For that? They killed him for that?” —but it simply blurted out without a thought.

Bakers accused of hoarding flour were hung all the time. Arno remaining ignorant is on him. Truthfully, there would no way any of them would remain in the dark about that. Hangings of wealthy shop owners or miscreants would go on all day and night. They should be used to it by now - and in Orfeo's case, it's a miracle his shop has not been sacked. 

Bridgette continued to play with her towel, and Marceline was the one who answered again, a tad angry, “With all the shit happening in the city, and no money and no food, what was to be expected. People do what they needed to do to survive.”

Arno wanted to argue, but what Marceline explained was mostly true; it didn’t make it right to kill someone for their resources, and desperation made people do desperate things.

So, instead he asks, “There wasn’t any arrests?”

“‘Fraid not, and I doubt they’ll catch ‘em now.”

 Arno is a learned man; at least, he should be. Smart men would know plunder would be common in the city. The émigré lists at this time numbered in the hundreds of thousands.  There would be no way he wouldn't know - but we are not dealing with a sane, rational Arno here. We are dealing with Queer Theory Arno.

It appears everyone forgot about the Women's March on Versailles - which was never written about, BTW - and Lafayette ordering his soldiers to fire on protesters. Shame. 

It didn’t comfort him to leave the conversation at that, but with Charlotte coming back downstairs to open the business as usual with Grisier in tow, it left the Dorian to his own duties in relocating his sister. He thanked the maids for the meal, washed his dish, and set out his sights across the city when he stood on top of the rooftop of the Café Manor.

 I'm never going to get over this. But, if we're really heading down a slope now, I guess it's worth it to strap in and see how Elise will die in this story. She's practically already dead as we speak because she has only made one appearance in this hulking novel.

If the last mission taught him anything, perhaps some light could be shed of Élise’s whereabouts despite his dislike for the intel; it was time to pay de Sade a visit and see what the crazy bastard wanted as payment for the auction they disrupted not too long ago. Last thing he wanted was to give de Sade any prolonged time to come up with other ideas Arno wasn’t ready for.

 Whatever it is, it's gay. Let's not dance around the issue. The homoerotic subtext is there. Whether or not Arno will actually fuck de Sade is left to be seen.

He arrived silently into the district, recognizing the blood-red curtains of the public brothel. Arno wasn’t one to shame anyone interested in these kinds of places, but he himself never felt comfortable walking into it knowing others noted his frequent visits. That led to his spacious times of visiting, and de Sade took note of that immediately the last time he was here (before he brought Elysia). If Élise ever found out about his ritual passing inside a brothel, well…he would never hear the end of it, nor believe him that intel was the reason.

 Elise wouldn't care unless Arno was actually having sex with prostitutes. She knows he's loyal. She knows that it's an unfortunate fate for many women in the city. Of course, this all implies she's ever going to appear more than once, and since she is in direct competition with Elysia, the answer is an automatic no.

“Twice in a row?” the guarding doorman whistled teasingly, though he already knew what relationship Arno and de Sade had. “You’re going to spoil him rotten.”

“Very funny, Jean-Jean,” the Dorian called him by his nickname, “Need to see what he wants for the favor yesterday.”

“…Good luck,” the guard let him through and bowed his head (in pity, perhaps). Arno sighed, but entered nonetheless.

Emasculation is a helluva thing. Arno has one personality trait and that's being a bottom.

De Sade was in his usual throne-like seat, various pieces of parchment scattered this time with one fairly-pretty prostitute scrunching along the back of his head, and another resting her chin on his shoulder to overlook his writing escapades. De Sade scribbled with a smug, fulfilled smile, and when his icy eyes lifted to spot Arno-

 And I bet they're all underage.

“Arno, what a splendid delight!” he almost bolted upwards if it weren’t for the pair of arms sliding off. He dismissed the two older women who sighed, but reluctantly left the two men to greet one another. De Sade strutted himself over, and boldly procured Arno’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, “My, my, have you come to pay me a visit?”

Because he's just asking for it, you know. Standing there being all pretty.

Arno removed the hand casually, knowing if he made it a big deal, it would only entice de Sade more, “I came to see what your favor was, before I forget.”

“Ahh…here I thought you actually missed me.” The older man closed his eyes, giving a deep, expressive exhale with his chin resting on the back of his prompted-up hand. “Oh well, any time spent together is good enough for me. Come, we’ll go upstairs.”

Arno almost battled with that idea, until de Sade fluttered his eyes to him, waving a hand down in dismissal.

“You worry yourself; I need someone to proofread my newest article.”

The title of the article: 'How to Make an Enema in 10 Easy Steps.' 

Even de Sade, who invented the entire BDSM genre, manages to be an even worse gay caricature than anything any other medium is capable of. We know from his reputation he was a sexually frustrated and disturbed man, yet still had that mysticism and cunning that drew people to him (in game at least).

This? I don't even know what to make of it.

“…Lead the way,” the Dorian signaled he’d follow. He aided the writer to procure his scattered parchments, and they set off for the private space. They passed by the (quite) noisy hallway of bedrooms, Arno doing his best to not pay much mind to the thumping walls or muffled moans. By the end of their next flight of stairs, Arno’s cheeks had calmed enough to not fuel any kind of taunt from de Sade…but he knew that wouldn’t be out of the question when they settled themselves in the spacious like-living room. A table with a bowl inhabiting old fruit, empty cups that had wine residue, and other pieces of parchment that displayed crossed out words and frenzied lines as if the rushed thoughts would escape the writer’s diabolical mind infinitely. De Sade cleared up the small table near the opened window (with a mere swipe of his arm, mind you and toppling everything that was on it) that gave a clear view of the street below.

I get it. You want to make Arno an absolute virgin who knows nothing about sex. In reality, he should know EXACTLY what it is because you know he shagged Elise more than once in a Versailles bedroom. Plus, as a literate man, there was plenty of erotic literature to go around. It's difficult to imagine Arno as a prude, but I am constantly reminded that this iteration of him isn't him. 

“Sit, sit, need anything to drink?” the older man signaled Arno to a maroon-cushioned chair.

Arno shook his head, “I’m fine, thank you.” de Sade placed a half-full wine bottle near his own feet, and went through the documents they had retrieved from downstairs. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, and it made Arno forget the kind of writing he would be reading within a few moments; it almost looked like de Sade was deciphering some sort of code or scientific equation with the way he was invested. Once his papers were rearranged the way he wanted them to be, he handed them over to the Dorian to purchase.

“Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions.” There was the wicked smile Arno recognized.

Yes, we get it. de Sade is a creep. The least you can do is make him likeable. If you want to go full sex pest, you can do what Kalincka and Izzy Grinch did and make him an open rapist. 

He mentally prepared himself, and rested back as his eyes glided along the elegant penmanship; of course, it was in every sense of sexual nature, and it didn’t surprise him he was expected to read this as the favor.

De Sade found enjoyment of Arno’s virginity, not that Arno ever revealed it, (but he suspected he knew by some unknown force) or ever would to anyone as a matter of fact. He remembered the sexually charged nature of men around him, whether when he was growing up and even in prison when he was stuck with Bellac. Once, it was suspected by a neighbor group of boys that Arno was secretly crushing on his sister, Élise. At first, Arno didn’t understand on why they would draw that conclusion, until he realized when some boys would merely be friends with him in order to draw themselves closer to her.

So here is the not-so-subtle dig at Arno's character: he's inexperienced in all manners of public and private life, he's a virgin, he doesn't know what sex is, and is accused of incest.

A few problems with that: we know Arno and Elise aren't actually related. For all purposes, Arno was raised as a live-in houseboy by Francois. He was never actually considered nobility despite coming from a well-to-do house and didn't actually have any neighbours. He was privately tutored and well educated. Elise also was raised by herself, and sent to a girl's school. This history objectively would have never happened.  

As a sidenote: you can be a virgin physically yet know all about sex. Erotic literature and listening to what people do in bedrooms does count. Arno shouldn't be a blushing virgin bride at sexual talk. He's an adult, he's been around common folk, and he probably heard Elysia and Orfeo bang. Let's just kid around here on what he knows.

Jealousy awakened like a toxic flower.

'Toxic' is an understatement.  

He didn’t like seeing Élise being close to other boys, nor when they would try to take advantage of his friendship to achieve that approach. Élise grew older, and Arno took notice of her physical changes as well, especially the way her cheeks flushed when she saw a boy that attracted her (rarely, and when it did happen), and when she would play with her hair to get their attention. It was natural to suspect that he might have liked her more than a friend, though there was that odd barrier of being family and Monsieur de la Serre’s attentive watch. It was an odd two years of trying to decipher that, of solidifying their relationship in whatever it was it may be.

I really do love Arno being cucked by the woman he loves. Elise barely pays any attention to him and regards him as a lapdog. I feel the need to repeat this, but Elise wasn't that open with boys. She was raised in a girl's school and was trained in swordsmanship by Mr. Weatherall. 

Next, we get this:

Then, one day when Élise snuck out of the house, the Dorian followed easily as he climbed down from his bedroom window. He saw her sneaking off to the corner of the street, and Arno peeked from the edge of the alleyway to see Élise speaking with an older boy of the neighborhood who got too close enough to put Arno on edge. The next second, the Dorian was running, and lunged himself against the teenager that had made an attempt to sexually assault Élise against the wooden fence.

Of course: we always need to have an attempted rape scene. And we have to have the noble Arno save Elise from her near-rape, only to be rebuked in turn:

Arno kept throwing punches, got one back as a reward, and the boys parted when Élise delivered a kicking blow to the rival’s arm. He yelped in frustration, and scurried to his feet to flee, leaving the two recovering siblings there. Arno wiped the bloody cut across his cheek off, and turned to the heartbroken Élise. No words were exchanged, and they didn’t need to be when Élise hugged Arno tightly, and thanked him for his interference. The Dorian embraced her back, and there his feelings had solidified: he wanted to keep his sister safe, and no harm come to her.

And he’ll be damned if he ever let anything happen to her under his watch.

Heartbroken? After a near-rape? I'd be demanding that boy's head. I'd be enraged.

But that's OK. Arno gets his validation as a Best Friend and never has his feelings reciprocated. It's almost an incel's backstory were it not for Arno going full gay. 

After that, Arno found himself straying away from men who incessantly talked about sleeping with women. It hardly interested him, and each one simply reminded him of the boy he sucker-punched years ago. Though, Arno keenly picked up romance novels, any he could find if they happened to be in arm’s length; the feelings of love and sweetness riled the moths in his belly, and made his mind daydream of being touched and caressed in such a way….he often wondered what it felt like, to have his hair brushed back or his cheek caressed. To vulnerably expose yourself so freely and trustingly to someone who would never do you any wrong. Have someone love you like that.

 OK, so Arno does indeed read romance novels and is an open romantic. Fine and good. Yet he is portrayed as a naïve virgin who just doesn't know his own body or how the world works. I bet this sweet man has never masturbated in his life (even nuns masturbate, ffs). 

He wasn’t sure who would be willing enough to be with him in that fashion, nor did he seek it out; what poor fool would be wrapped up in the mess that was his life? He remembered having some lecherous dreams when they surfaced, though the figure and face was never prominent enough to distinguish who it was. He didn’t mind that, because honestly, he never pictured someone close in his life to fulfill those shoes, nor imagine he would ever get the chance to.

Honestly? You're just not that interesting. Well, THIS iteration is. Original Arno is fine. But this sob story on how no one would love him because no one has ever talked to him and understood him is solely the author's fault. Les just didn't bother to flesh him out because she was so focused on Elysia. 

Remember: Arno's alcoholism and his depression were part of ELYSIA'S redemption plot, not his. 

But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like the way James genuinely smiled at him, and tugged his hood down playfully over his face when he did. He’d be a liar if he said he disliked Stephen’s hair smelling like fragrant flowers whenever they hugged, and took that ample opportunity to bury his face into his soft tresses. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t blush when Samson stood so close to him without being told to, and even bought him a new rapier sword to be added to his utilities. He kept that a secret, found it within acceptable grounds to have those moments to himself because it was only human nature wanting to be accepted and validated by other people, by friends.

When did Arno snuggle into Stephen's hair? Stephen is busy fucking his time-traveling Japanese vampire boyfriend. James was engaged - to a woman I believe, and Arno has had ZERO good encounters with these men. In fact, the moment that has been seared into my memory was them teaming up to steal his tokens from the Capture the Flag chapter as a means to 'teach him a lesson', and constantly deriding him. 

As for Clement? Well. Turns out a prediction I made was dead on. 

Then he dreamt of Clement last night.

When Clement’s thickset arms stretched above his own head or behind his broad-shouldered back, or when he reached for that goddamn axe because he built his corpulent, towering body that way. The gray eyes that bore into Arno’s were both mystic and daunting. How large digits sunk into his lissome hips and pinned him down, Arno was sure to melt in his dreamland sheets; the boiling hot room was nothing compared to Clement’s heat. It was only natural when Arno woke up panting in a cold sweat and confused as hell.

I called it. I called it. Clement was the one who was going to fuck Arno. Naturally Arno is a bottom (he always is) and he wants to get dominated by the (impossibly) openly gay buff bear. Can you get any more stereotypical? 

Let’s make one thing clear: Arno didn’t seek him out, found Clement quite rude and self-centered in fact since they met. Their few interactions were enough to dissuade Arno from pursuing a friendship when Clement made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him, nor be reminded when Arno offered to teach him English (because he looked so stressed that day and the Dorian felt really guilty of everything that had transpired that might’ve been his doing—who was he fucking kidding, he still felt guilt, fuck). Clement didn’t even look at him at times, and that hurt the Dorian more than he would like to admit.

"He doesn't want to talk to me but I can't stop dreaming of him fucking me" cliché. I've seen enough of this in het stories, thank you very much. It very much needs to die. I don't much care for the internal ramblings of a frustrated teenage girl or a twink.

Arno can’t even remember when was the last time he actually saw the bulkier Assassin, and all memories pointed him to the play; he knew inviting Clement was kind of pointless if Elysia had probably ordered the entire team to attend and focus on the mission, but the Dorian had to make amends in some way. Was he still upset about what happened to James? How much time did Clement need to straighten himself out, to open himself up? Then again, Clement didn’t owe them that, much less Arno. UGH.

UGH, IT'S SO FRUSTRATING UGH

Yes, I'm sure Clement had a big fat one waiting for you while you were dancing in a leotard in a subplot that went fucking nowhere. I'm sure you wanted him to fuck you while Elysia was huffing Angel Dust, eh?

He rubbed his forehead at the sudden tangent his mind suddenly steered him through, resisting to physically groan out his frustrations. Ever since Elysia confirmed Clement had been an openly gay man, Arno had been thinking about it since, and how such an obvious part of Clement bypassed his radar (unless he was that dense). Why be so fixated on it?

Well, for one, you couldn't be openly gay back then. Yes, homosexuality was decriminalized in 1791, but you couldn't just declare you were gay in public life. That decriminalization applied to private life only. 

Why be fixated? You need to be a bottom and it needs to happen now, boy.

Why was he even thinking about this now? God damn it—

Arno’s eyes blinked awake, and he had to ask himself if he had fallen asleep. Instead, he was looking directly at de Sade who took it upon himself to seat against the arm of the opposite chair, and lean REALLY close that he was a few inches away from practically kissing Arno. But, de Sade had other plans, and licked the tooth beside his front one, head tilting in a child-like curiosity.

Gotta love his piss poor perception when he can't even notice de Sade's breath on him. 

Great work. Who made you an Assassin, again?

“Something on the mind?”

Arno didn’t look away, “No.”

“You got this look on your face…”

“What look?” didn’t give him an inch.

“That you’re not reading my latest article, and something faaaaaaaaar more interesting is taking place….here,” de Sade lifted his middle finger, and tapped it against Arno’s forehead in two quick successions.

His cheeks faintly flared, “I do have to mentally process all this nonsense you write, first off—” 

Why does this author feel the need to write flamboyant characters as if they are TikTok stars? You don't need to add all this enunciation. Let the words speak for themselves. This isn't the San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus (albeit, de Sade was a sex predator like two men on that roster). Let the dialogue speak for itself - that's its job. 

“Nonsense?? Do you know why I write?” De Sade backed up at this, inspecting the edge of his nails, “Why it calls to me?”

“Enlighten me,” Arno plays the game.

“Because…I can.” A hidden smile glistened in de Sade’s orbs.

The Dorian isn’t impressed, “I’m…not really following. You write about sexual deviations because…you can?”

Which is exactly the author's motivation: she's fucking up the lore, despite saying she knows it like the back of her hand, because she can. That is all her kind is good for. She chose to write these chapters, she chose not to do research, and she chose to insert her piss poor politics and character into every nook and cranny.

Shitting on canon is typical for an SJW. But there's more:

“If everyone simply had one sexuality and one sexual preference, wouldn’t life be utterly dull and boring? Everyone would be the same; there would be no point of individuality, no sense of self-autonomy nor freedom to explore who you are in the one life we live. Everyone is entitled to that, dear Arno, it is a given right despite what a group of old, pretentious men say in their lice-filled wigs and unflattering, painted faces.”   

Token Liberal Attention Whore Politics, news at 11. Then again, the author graduated from a Californian art school, San Fran I believe, so this is really typical. 

Having a guy suspected of sexually torturing prostitutes and maids and having mobs in his home town attack him for it lecturing on sexual experience is really something. 

Arno regarded him with a hard look, then lifted the pieces of parchment slightly upward, “I didn’t know fucking a goat was a sexual preference.”

“…You wouldn’t know unless you tried it,” de Sade’s darted his eyes over, a pouting smirk engaged.

Arno’s face fell flat, “No thanks.”

You're really making de Sade a relatable character, thanks. Now make him film Mr. Hands and we're good.

“And that’s your freedom to have.” Arno went back to scanning the written documents, but de Sade’s look strengthened when he sat across from Arno. The Dorian shifted his eyes up without changing his expression, finding de Sade’s legs crossed and his lean fingers tapping at the knee like a melodic wave. Arno refused to indulge him, and paid mind to the sentence with a few misspellings. In the middle of his scratching though—

“What is your preference, dear Arno?”

His voice tapered to a soft edge, “That is none of your business to know.”

As much as that is true, anyone with a brain could see this story was leading up to this. It wasn't enough for Arno to be a cuck, he had to be made an effeminate, openly gay bottom. 

Because, you know, character development.  

“Then you do have one.”

Arno mentally facepalmed, “Again, nothing that concerns you.”

De Sade wasn’t letting up, “Perhaps not, but I am curious. You don’t seem like the womanizer type, and you haven’t shown much interests to the pretty women that bat their eyelashes at you.” 

Not every straight man takes the bait of a pretty woman. Some have self control. This guilt tripping needs to end and it pisses me off when I read it. 

I'm sure you've had your fair share of men telling you you'd like dick if you tried it, Les. Considering you're now 'pansexual', you don't have room to talk, now do you?

It's not enough to insinuate Arno wants to fuck 'his sister' like a PornHub clip. You need to show he's a closeted gay man. Because, you know, representation. Accuracy. Rewriting.

“I show no interest to people I’m not close to,” the Assassin revealed truthfully.

“By that standard, that must mean you have someone.”

“…And what if I did,” he challenged.

You really wanted to use demisexual, eh? Too bad that's not an actual sexuality. We used to call it courtship.  

“By all means—” de Sade parted his arms open like unveiling a curtain that had magically appeared in front of them, “—I’m not judging you, I am merely here to justify your curiosities and lighten your guarded burdens. I have struggled many times to accept my individual tendencies, and it is only fair to aid my friends when I see them struggling the same as I have.”

Right, and we needed this scene to show which character Arno was getting dicked by. Took long enough. 

Arno’s grip on the parchment lessened, and he absorbed the words like a famished sponge. Something warns him to tell de Sade to back off his personal space, but there’s another that invites the writer to delve further, to reveal something about de Sade that Arno had not touched on it.

Sponges absorb water, not food. You'd be better off writing 'parched sponge' or 'dry sponge'. 

But go ahead and invite the sadist to psychoanalyze you. It'll go well.

“You…what is it that—” Arno battled to say the right words, somewhat stricken on what to ask and how to ask.

De Sade caught on swiftly, and sat himself properly with a slide onto the cushion, “When I was a young boy, I was given everything I ever wanted, what I needed.” Arno rested the manuscript on the small table beside; intently listening with a nod. De Sade continued, “You could say, I had a morbid curiosity for pain, and I explored that as I got older. Of course, that in itself raised a lot of questions, and perhaps, I didn’t do much good looking back now.”

 No, you got into sadism because you couldn't get an erection otherwise. This happened well before de Sade was imprisoned - and it was his WIFE who put him there. Testing that curiosity on innocent maids and prostitutes is another No from me, dawg.

Arno waits when de Sade takes a swing of his alcohol drink, as if to wash down the barriers blocking his next set of words.

“I am no hero, Arno, and I never proclaim myself to be. I am merely human, a piece of constructed flesh that desires touch and there is nothing simpler than that. Naturally, the human condition is to feel accepted by other people, and people can find that whether it be with friends, a partner, a cult or more. Restraining yourself to one single lifestyle of Puritan pursuit is nothing but a sham.”

Arno thought for a moment, “How so?”

'Being monogamous is wrong, you should get fucked by as many dicks as possible' isn't sexually liberating. It means you are a slave to your bestial tendencies. You don't think about it, you just fuck. It's almost the 'sex work is work' and 'there's nothing wrong with porn' mentality that has influenced modern discourse. 

De Sade’s eyes glittered dangerously at this, “If a Priest of the church is allowed to sleep with little boys and girls, why can’t I live the way I want to?”

Something uneasy bubbles in Arno’s stomach, though he doesn’t seek a fight, “You don’t like the church? Religion?”

That is NOT the own you think it is. Telling Arno you are not as bad as priests sodomizing young boys when you sexually  torture people is illuminating. 

“Dear Arno, NO, it is more than that!” De Sade’s voice rose, an arm shooting upwards to the ceiling, “Anyone can believe whatever they want! Everyone should be allowed that, whether they be from France, from the Colonies, a man, a woman, in-between, both, old or young; you can’t impose your beliefs in other people, Arno. That is a fact and will always be a fact with something as complicated as the human mind. Animals are programmed to follow instinct, and although we derive from that, it would be a shame for a complex organism as a human to never question their lives. Wouldn’t you agree to that?”

I am absolutely keeping this paragraph as a quote in my review. Imagine having a guy who just said fucking kids is okay because it's sexual freedom be the arbiter of wisdom to a virgin. You can't impose your beliefs, but you can sodomize kids provided you identify a certain way.

GREAT motivational speech, Les, you're a helluva girl.

Arno’s brows scrunched, and he nodded slowly, though remained silent to be neutral for now.

The writer sits back, and rested his cheek in his hand as his bright eyes inspected the window, “I’m married now, you know.”

“…Really?”

“Why are you so shocked?”

“Uh, didn’t take you one to be married.”

“I’m slightly offended by that but I understand your perspective.”

He's offended at another guy being shocked at him being married yet just told that same guy it's OK to fucking kids - excuse me 'young people'. Which could mean anything, and age of consent laws really didn't matter during this time period.

“Are you happy with them?” the Dorian questioned.

De Sade shrugged at this, “In a sense, yes. Will I ever truly be happy, I can’t say. Maybe on my deathbed, I’ll have the answer.” His eyes darted to Arno, “Are you happy, Mr. Dorian?”

Arno’s eyes lowered, “…Sometimes.”

“The death of your fathers lingers on you.”

He didn’t remember when he disclosed that, “…Yes.”

“Be reminded, it will never leave you.”

It's something when this is NEVER discussed in the story and only comes out in dialogue. Gee,  I would have never known Arno was affected by Monsieur de la Serre's death IF YOU HADN'T TOLD ME.

He forgets to breathe, and Arno is holding his own sides, breathing in his mouth and out his nose. To diminish the fizzle along his face as if it was a lake being pelted by the strong rain. He’s exhausted, and his stone feet threaten to propel him to the core of the planet. To be so openly exposed, and why would it be de Sade of all people.

Are you really so 'openly exposed' when this has been known to quite a few people? It was your raison d'etre for joining the Assassins. There is no 'exposing' if you don't have a secretive nature. Arno is about as open as a blank piece of paper: there's nothing written on it and it has yet to have any value.

To put it bluntly, this 'exposure' doesn't add any character development and it isn't meant to. He is a bystander in his own story.

“I know that, but that doesn’t mean it was fair.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes.” De Sade shrugged when Arno’s lifted his eyes back up, “So, why not be fair to yourself now? Why not…indulge yourself? What’s holding you back?”

It's hard to ever see Arno as naïve. He knows he grew up privileged and goes out of his way to help others - well, the OG Arno does. This one is too busy fantasizing about burly gay men. 

What's holding him back? Well, lack of lube for one.

He wasn’t expecting an interrogation today, nor be affected so much by it that Arno was sweating lightly, “I’m on a mission.” It’s here, he remembers that he has not mentioned anything about Shay, and had kept his promise to Elysia about the secrecy of that. A part of him wants to tell de Sade, though he is unsure if it was to inform him to prove a point that he, in fact, cannot indulge in his desires (wait, Clement was a desire???) or if he trusted de Sade that much to reveal that (oh god, he didn’t deny that de Sade called him a friend—were they—certainly NOT, merde).

Arno is not a child. He is a grown man with agency. He can decide to indulge in his sexual desires or not. He is not required to tell anyone - especially de Sade - how he feels. This interpretation doesn't leave much to be desired - we know Arno is a closeted gay man, confused and worried about expressing himself, and he wants a larger man to 'work him in.' It's your run-of-the-mill queer character, and that is the ONLY interpretation these SJW authors have. 

“Certainly, your missions in life don’t have to coincide with your needs—”

Arno’s back tensed, and he tried not to make it noticeable; De Sade intently inspected him, “It’s not because I don’t want to…”

“….Mhmmm…?”

“I simply have a lot in my mind.”

“It certainly appears that way…” De Sade sat back, and his lean digits stroked the chains of his necklaces like a harp, “It’s a shame, then.”

The mission is to find Shay Cormac so he doesn't eliminate the rest of the Parisian Brotherhood. You cannot even accomplish this. Instead, you sit there like a worried school boy getting  sex-ed lecture from a guidance counsellor. That is not your mission. De Sade wants his favour repaid and chances are he's going to want sex. Stop dancing around the issue and get it out there. 

“What is?” Arno’s impatience peaks for a moment.

“Well…you’ll never know he desires you back if you don’t pursue the answer yourself.”

“I think if he did, he would’ve told me already.” Arno’s cheeks streak red at the realization of the laid trap, and he doesn’t have to look long to see de Sade’s eyes sparkling…much like Clement’s rambunctious cat, Eugene. The man is swift on his feet, almost somersaults forward to trap Arno into the chair, both steadfast hands grasping the arms to diminish any kind of escape. The Assassin sunk back into the cushion, trying not to slide off.

Look, we get it. de Sade is flamboyant. But he's not going to do somersaults at the revelation Arno likes dick. Him caging in Arno to coax out his sexual tastes is something he'd do, though. 

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again: answers aren’t meant to be given, you seek them out.” The eccentric autocrat’s teeth shine within a triumphant grin, “Or else…what would be the fun in that?” Arno is speechless (a rare occurrence he has come to find out), and freezes when his cowl’s tip is flicked back to remove the shadow from his face. “I’m almost positive he would be interested…considering I like what I see.”

Arno hasn't gotten a word in in any conversation since the beginning. He's cowed and cucked compared to Strong Brown Woman Elysia and has virtually no agency as a man. 

Cucked and be fucked. What a motto.

Arno swallowed, and he carefully exhaled when de Sade removes himself, standing upright and his willow-like digits rub the tip of his hook nose.

Oh you just reminded me of something: de Sade would actually hate it if you said he had a hooked nose. Why? Well de Sade wasn't fond of the Jews. At all. 

You gotta make jokes where you can find them.  

“I suppose you’re free to go.”

“…Huh?” the Assassin catches his bearings.

De Sade retrieved his papers, “Go on, you’re a busy boy, no doubt.” He makes a shooing motion, and Arno awkwardly stands. He lifted a finger to say something next, but de Sade opens his mouth, pausing the Dorian, “Before you go….”

He lowers his finger.

De Sade replied softly, “Check the Cimetière des Saint-Innocents.”

Arno’s eyes narrowed faintly.

De Sade smiled innocently, “Better hurry, you might find something you need there.”

I'd like to point out - and yes, this is the umpteenth time I've said this - that these dialogue sessions take up half a chapter. They do not need to be dragged out this long, and they don't move the story along. I could skim through the dialogue and pick up nothing of interest - but as these are chapter reviews, some of these dialogue options are too good not to include.

Pushing past the crowds on ground-level would only slow him down, and the Dorian made quick work to reach the northeast of the city. There was a lot of scattered newspapers and broken furniture along the street, especially in the elongated road running along the front-side of the cemetery grounds. There was a crowd unlike any other, and Arno wasn’t sure if there was some sort of event taking place (or what mess de Sade would get him into next).

It should be your job to know where people are and why they are there. You're an Assassin. Act like it. 

He navigated across the crowd, but realized the entry way was blocked by city officials. He groaned of the blockade, and made way to the east side further. Making sure no one else detected him, Arno scaled the stone wall, and touched onto the wooden roof.

And what he saw chilled him and removed all the embarrassment he harbored from earlier.

Why didn't you just stay on the rooftops? You had a better vantage point and would be able to see their rotations. 

Oh, right. Because you've got a room temperature IQ.

In the center of the cemetery was a gaping hole, big enough for a small crowd of people to get in. The dirt was fresh and dug up, halting anyone to further investigate downward if they chose to step in. Avoiding detection to get a closer look was easy, lingering himself along a single structure that served to go deeper into the man-made catacomb space that had been restricted off.

I was going to make a joke about another hole about to be gaped, but it's not deep enough. 

 “Do they know how it got this big? Surely a person couldn’t have done this single-handedly,” a city guard scrutinized it with a scratching of his head.

“Who knows. There was nothing to report last night.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“Positive! We stood guard and no one came in or out!”

“We’ll have to investigate this further. Whatever bodies that have been dug up, rebury to the back side. The funerals planned for today will have to be moved somewhere else for the time being.”

Fun fact: corpses were routinely dug up to make soap. Fast way to make money. Realistically, the guards wouldn't be surprised as graveyards were overflowing and it was a benefit to dig up some bodies and convert them for other uses. 

The more you know. 

Arno ducked his head back as to not give himself away, and hid into the dark crevices that served as storage space. In silence, Arno wondered if this was what de Sade wanted him to see, but something told him no. He peered over the stacked boxes, further reconning the individuals. Nothing but guards making rounds....until he saw a redhead woman walking freely into the space after maneuvering the crowd.

de Sade doesn't want Arno to see what? Dead bodies? Dude, he's a Assassin. That's his job.  

Arno’s wide eyes followed, seeing the guards confront her, ask her what her purpose was, and allowed her to enter the farthest building that served as the small chapel. He wasted no time trailing behind; it was harder to monitor the sentries, but he was patient to await their changing positions (because this might be the only last chance he could get). One duck here, another scurry there, and Arno faced the wooden door where the recognizable woman easily entered.

You gotta wonder how Arno missed the lone redhead in the dark. Eagle Vision would make things so much easier, but we can't have a usurper.  

He pried open the doorway, and the groan was unavoidable; he snuck in, and closed the door immediately behind him to face the candle-lit apse before him. The sunlight enraptured the blue glass, giving the church this heavenly-tinted glow that took time to adjust to. There, a robed man with a long beard caught his glance, and stilled when Arno took a step forward. He gave the man one look before shifting his attention to the redhead woman who naturally cocked out a pistol, and pointed it straight to Arno.

 So this wasn't taking place in the dark, but broad daylight, and Arno still couldn't see Elise. 

A-fucking-mazing.

“Don’t move,” she unbendingly commanded with demanding grace.

This sentence doesn't even make sense. It's like you thought it conveyed authority and slapped as many adjectives on it as possible. 

Arno lifted his palms up, his shoulders dropping of this repeated circumstance, “…You would think you would give me a better welcome than the last time, Élise.”

A strong pause lingered in the open space of wooden benches, and the gun was lowered with a disarming click. He waited until it was fully down, and reached up to hold the edges of his cowl. It dropped softly, and he revealed his familiar face to his evasive sister.

He smiled sadly, and dropped his arms down with his fingers rubbing against each other nervously, “I’m…sorry, for intruding.”

God, this man is making me absolutely dry. No wonder he calls Elise his 'sister' - there's no way anyone aside from inbred hicks who'd fuck this man. This is embarrassing to read. 

“What are you doing here, Arno?” She sounds tired, Arno studying the dark bags underneath her eyes. Élise catches on, a sour grimace wrenching the already annoyed expression into a worse state.

“I’ve been trying to find you…” he replied purely. “I will admit the cemetery is the last place I would’ve suspected.”

“Anywhere else and it would’ve been too obvious.” Élise returns her gun to her holster, instead keeping a hand on the handle of her saber, readying herself for a fight. “Yet you’ve still managed to track me down.”

We wouldn't have known Arno was trying to find Elise if the author didn't SAY he was. She has never SHOWN him looking for her, or shown the importance of Arno finding Elise to begin with. It's more than a 'family reunion'. He has been more focused on treasure hunts and hiding his gay feelings than forming any bond with her or mending the rift between them. Simply put, Elise does not matter whatsoever in this story. She gets in the way of the other redhead. 

It would’ve been a natural response to admit something snarky and witty here, to chase after their once child-like banter from before. But the Dorian knew it wasn’t the case anymore; after more than a year of not seeing Élise, of not knowing her whereabouts or her condition all came crashing down as an ugly reminder of where they had left off, of why she was being so defensive around him. It would be easier to pretend nothing serious divided the two apart…but he felt the fresh wound of it all, of seeing how enraged she was when she first saw him. When he spent time in prison for a crime he never committed.

This would carry more weight if this was addressed far earlier on in the story. It would also carry more weight if Arno was the central figure in this story, as his imprisonment and M. de la Serre's death is the direct cause of her revenge plot. As they are background characters in their own tale, none of this means anything.  

Arno drove their family apart, a power that had been out of his hands but one he was blamed for nonetheless. And he carried that weight; through his Initiation, his trainings with Bellac and Elysia; every failure and success he strove for was for this, this moment standing in front of his sister. To come to terms of their farrago separation, and form a unity stronger than before.

To overcome their father’s death.

Truth be told, I'd have never known he'd receive training as an Assassin. He certainly never acts like one or utilizes the skills of one. He has the mentality of a child who does not understand the world around him. When it comes to his depression and failings, Elysia is the one who manages to make it all about her. SHE is the one responsible for 'correcting' him, and the one who pins all of her own personal failings on him and expects him to change for it. 

Arno became and Assassin for redemption and purpose. He has neither here. What, exactly, did he became an Assassin for?

“I know there’s a lot of…tension between us. I understand why you’re frustrated with me, and anything that I say will never be enough to dissuade your negative feelings toward me. I want you to know…” he takes a deep breath, and recalls the rehearsed words he’s been meaning to tell her all this time, “…I want you to know that you will always be my sister. I will love you no matter what, I will protect you no matter what. And….I hope one day you’ll forgive me. It doesn’t have to be today nor tomorrow, but someday…if you wish it, Élise.”

When you take away the romance aspect, and make it into a sibling rivalry, its impact is greatly diminished. Arno claims to care for his 'sibling' and could not find her in over a year. Elise claims to care for Arno yet never goes to him for help when she is completely alone and defenseless against Shay. She doesn't have a right to be angry anymore - and if she did, she wouldn't be given any screen time for it. 

Wrong redhead.  

Élise turns to stone. Clearly off-guard of his sentimental deliverance (almost as if she were expecting the snarky banter as well), “Is—Is that why you’ve came all this way to confront me? To apologize—” she sighs in frustration, turning to face the massive marble statue of some Saint who passed long ago. If looks could kill...

You would think Elise would know, by now, Arno did not kill her father and that the ones who did are all dead. You would think she did some investigating on her own and would come to regret holding Arno accountable for something he did not do. This does not happen. She is being nasty for no reason at all.  

“I have.” Arno reaffirmed to combat her dissembling nature, “With what happened to Monsieur de la Serre, I can never take back the errors of that night. That guilt will always live on with me…but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to make amends with you again. There’s…so much that I want to mend…but I understand if you don’t want that.”

Again, if Elise had done some digging, she'd know who really killed her father. She has no grounds to be angry or resentful at him anymore. The fact is, they have a common cause as Shay is the #1 threat as he is the one who killed Arno's father and denied Elise her revenge.  

Élise remained silent, and Arno debated on adding more, if what he said was even enough for her to accept. His thoughts are worlds away from the problems that have gripped him for the past months. He’s only here with his sister.

They are not related. There is no guilt to share. It clearly is not important to have this conversation, otherwise it would have happened far earlier. Nothing is owed and nothing is gained. What is the point of these conversations? 

Élise does not utter another word, her eyes searching angrily around the ceilings. Attempting to find some sort of answer, or a weapon that she can use against him. Either seemed highly probable. After a few harrowing moments, her shoulders sunk with a loud sigh.

“Anything else you have to say?” she interrogated.

He keeps the disappointment at bay, “No, but it needed to be said, because you’re family first to me before anything else.” The silence confirms her abnegation. There’s the disappointment.

She has no room or grounds to be angry at him. It is her own failure to not discover the truth. He approached her in good faith, and she is completely alone. If she is not aware the Assassins are also at risk, she is throwing away the truce and an opportunity for a better future. 

“Then it is here I must intrude, Assassin.” The churlish, robed man beside Élise takes a step forward, and Arno notices the barrier he creates between them both. “You surely have a better explanation for me?”

Arno silently agreed to this exchange of power, and crossed the threshold to strengthen his stance against his Templar mind, “The Assassin Brotherhood has suffered great loss in the hands of Shay Cormac; it is near to nonexistent—”

“That is not our problem, Assassin,” the elderly man sliced without hinderance, “The better that your lot is extirpated—”

It well should be, considering Shay and the anime twins wiped out Germain and all of his lieutenants. The French Templars are near nonexistent and are ripe for an annexation from another branch.  

Which is the ABSOLUTE LAST THING you want. 

“I am not here for the Brotherhood,” Arno affirmed assertively, and his tone makes the elder halt in his words, and even makes Élise’s shoulders stiffen. “Mirabeau has abdicated any kind of advancement against his threatening presence, much less done anything for the Brotherhood for these past couple of months. I am here on behalf of my team, and my Mentor who have all agreed to ask for your aid; to stop this common enemy, because we fear Shay is planning something catastrophic.”

Something occurred to me just now. How come Elysia, that powerful, prominent Magic Woman of Colour never approached Elise? Elysia has much more authority than Arno and she was the one who launched the Mirabeau investigation. You could have even gotten Bellec's help, even though he (rightfully) hates Templars. 

But then that'd require some form of logical consistency, and for Elysia to admit she never heard of shay once and deliberately sent recruits to die. 

That halts the elderly man, a vicious scorn holding in place in his eyes. There’s a seed of doubt that plays for a brief moment, before the man waves off the accusation, “Whatever Shay Cormac is planning against the Brotherhood—”

“That’s just it—it’s not just against our Brotherhood, it’s for the Templars, for France itself. We are certain he’s after Pieces of Eden, and unsure whether he is in possession of one already.” The Templar former and Élise regard each other hastily. “If you know anything about this…”

I suspect the elderly man is Lafreniere. If so, he'd KNOW Shay was a problem. He would take Arno's side immediately. 

Also, we KNOW Shay has a PoE. He has the Sword of Eden. And he's got the magic anime twins looking for others. You just spent an entire chapter at an auction trying to prevent him from getting one.  

“Gods….” The elder expelled something shaky from his lean frame, and he contemplates to sit when he rests a clamping hand on the head of the bench beside. Something is gearing, and Arno took the initiative to stand beside him now, observing him closely. The man doesn’t mind, in fact, Arno’s intrusion does nothing to dissuade the worry clenching his form. “Are…Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. We…managed to obtain a Piece ourselves, before Shay’s follower could.” The older Templar regarded Arno with a tight constriction of his crystal eyes, deciphering whether the Assassin was telling the truth or not. When he didn’t find any kind of deception—

And Elise never bothered to mention this...? Oh, right. Secrecy and hiding out and all that. We would've NEVER KNOWN.  

“I see….That is of…deep concern. May I ask…?”

Arno raised a hand, “If you wish to know more, my Mentor would gladly explain. Like I said, I am here on behalf of my team, but I’m also restricted to say anything more than that.”

If this is such a problem, Elysia should have been the one finding these artifacts instead of sending immature grunts, but she's too busy dick waving with Mirabeau to do something about it. Arno should have learned what the Pieces of Eden were by now and what their capabilities were, instead of deflecting to his Magic Brown Manager. 

“What is your plan than, if we agreed?” the elder questioned more openly now. “You’d take us to this Mentor of yours?”

Arno knitted his brows together, “Yes. Discreetly.”

“And simply like that, you would believe we could work together effortlessly? Your naivety exceeds much, Mr. Dorian.”

The naivety part is correct, because Arno is an absolute manchild in everything he does. I can absolutely see why Elise keeps him at arm's length. He refuses to grow up.  

“How many loyal Templars are left?” Arno interjected, and this pauses their growing argument. Almost insults the elder where he stood when he scoffs and throws his hand back, despite saying nothing. “I’m aware Shay has divided your members, and it will only worsen the longer we stand by and do nothing. Wishing to restore your Order isn’t something you can do alone, and you’re aware of that. As long as Shay continues to run about, let’s be honest here: no Templar or Assassin will survive under his rule.”

You insulted him by...talking? Arno is speaking the truth here. The only people to blame are the ones who refused to see the writing on the wall, and that happens to be everybody.  

Arno felt like they’re in an impasse again; watching the robed senior pace along the apse of the church as Élise had hardly moved an inch. Finally, she does and it straightens Arno’s back when she stands properly erect with arms crossed on her chest. She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again with scrunched brows.

“I have…information, regarding Mr. Cormac.”

“Then…we have an accord?”

The elder man stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder supportively, “Whatever you choose, I will follow.” Arno dismisses the tinge of green in his heart.

Green? With what? Envy? What's there to be envious about? You reached an agreement. Now act like adults.  

Élise sighed, and met Arno’s almond eyes, “…For now.”

His chest elates, and he can’t help but smile lightly at the news. He battles the instinct to embrace her, and instead says, “There’s no time to waste. My Mentor should be at her corresponding café.”

“Lead us then. If we discover you have led us to a trap, consider our partnership annulled.”

Arno understood, “Let us make haste.”

Arno's eyes aren't almond shaped or colored. They're hazel. 

Second, if this was so important, you should have carried a letter from Elysia so Elise could at least be relieved she wasn't being set up. As it stands, you are going against her back. Not that I care, but it'll be interesting to see how she reacts.  

With the two Templars in tow (and on guard), Arno gripped the handle of the oak door…and he suddenly stills. A rasping noise garnered his attention, and he held up a hand to stop their advancement.

“What is it?” Élise’s bothered expression doesn’t alleviate him.

She's aggravated despite walking past a bunch of dug up corpses. Are we dealing with zombies or what?  

“Wait here…” Arno warned lowly, and the two exchange a glance. They say nothing, and Arno opened the door fully. He steps out, watching the vacant cemetery. Where did everyone go?

“Arno Dorian.” He jerked his head up to encounter five cloaked Assassins. His chest ices. “It appears we’ll have to take you to headquarters on behalf of Master Mirabeau.”

Oh ho ho. Is this how he's going to lose his Assassin status? If so, it's even dumber than the way he lost it in-game because we actually have a very present threat here that cannot be ignored. 

I cannot wait for Elysia to blame him for all of her faults.  

Merde.

 

He groaned from their icy glares at the back of his skull despite reassuring them numerous times that he didn’t know he was being followed.

“Aren’t you an Assassin?”

“Of course I am.”

“Then how could you have not sensed them???”

The million dollar question. And the answer is: because he's a manchild with room temperature IQ. Deliberately cucked on purpose to elevate the Magical Brown Woman. 

If he had ANY of his skills from his real self, he would have known they were there. Eagle Vision helps.   

He facepalmed himself. They stride down the stony hallway, and he feels himself getting smaller the closer they got to the Entrance Hall. Numerous susurrations flow along the wide chamber from the Assassins that remained in this Brotherhood. He searched the hooded face for his familiars, more notably Elysia but it didn’t look like she was here.

I'd facepalm myself too if I was this much of a retard.  

The leader Assassin announced to the group, “I shall fetch the Masters.”

Arno glares to him, but the man says nothing and departs for the long hallway. That left the four guarding the trio, and again leaving Arno to fend off the upset expressions of his unimpressed-perhaps-no-more allies.

So upset they were just as responsible for walking into a trap? They know Shay is after them. They got too cocky. They are lucky the remnants of the Assassins found them first.  

“I’m telling you the truth!” he defended.

Élise huffed, tapping her boot against the marble, intricately-designed floor, “You must think us simpletons if you think we’re going to fall for that trick.”

Wow, you're a bitch. Shay DESTROYS your birthright and all you can do is get mad at the ONE person who went out of his way to find you and defend your cause. You are one ungrateful cunt. 

“It’s no trick!!” he groaned loudly, throwing his arms up, “What will it take for you to believe me!??”

Castrating yourself. If you haven't already done it.  

The elder beside Élise (named Lafrenière, as Arno has come to know), simply stood with arms behind his back, inspecting the chamber with mild interest.

His lips pursed underneath his long beard, then he said, “Not as impressive as I thought it was going to be.”

You lost nearly all of your comrades in a blitzkrieg by a pair of anime twins and Legend of Korra villains. Get over yourself.  

“Funny, I had the same thought,” Élise chimed in, making the four, guarded Assassins shift in their stance. “I suppose we should be on guard, considering they walked us in without any kind of blindfold. Not that it would’ve helped either.”

Arno rubbed his face, sighing in disbelief of her cocky nature, especially in a time like this, “I swear, Élise….” 

There is a certain degree of cockiness to allow the heir of the French Templars walk into Assassin headquarters without a blindfold. This was highlighted in-game as brash on Arno's part; here, he is not responsible but senior Assassins are. 

Elise doesn't have room to be cocky. She is as defenseless as her 'captors' and is not in any position to threaten people. She is at their mercy. 

I just want a smidgen of internal consistency. Is that so hard to ask?

“Arno!” a familiar figure ran over to the space, followed by a broader one that Arno instantly felt relieved (and slightly on edge) to be greeted by. It was Stephen and Clement, both inspecting the Assassin that moved to stand in front of Arno to block their view.

“I suggest you make way somewhere else,” he replied, earning a curt stare from Stephen. Oh boy.

Glad even his future butt buddies are in the dark about this coup. What, did Elysia not tell them via her omnipotence? 

"And I suggest you explain what's going on here," Stephen responded back in the same tone. "Why are you surrounding Arno like this?"

“This Assassin has been found conspiring with Templars, and he is brought to question with Master Mirabeau.” The tone was firmly stone, and it made Arno exhale angrily.

Oh, I get it. Mirabeau is projecting his insecurities and faults on Arno. Too bad contextual evidence is scant here: this was the ONLY time Arno ever encountered Elise and is seen communicating with her. Other than that, he has never been around any Templar and Brown Queen Elysia can vouch for him.  

This attempt at an 'Inherit the Wind' court trial isn't effective. 

“I told you already, I wasn’t conspiring with—”

“That is up to Master Mirabeau to decide,” the Assassin didn’t falter, giving Arno a harsh side-glance. He gritted his teeth underneath tight lips.

Ah, the good ole 'accuse your enemy of what you yourself are doing.' 

"On what grounds does Mirabeau have for this?" Clement speaks up, a hand placed carefully on his chest to keep Eugene from peeking, "I hardly think this is worth the time of day; Arno isn't the nefarious type to plan with the Templars."

“Deny what you must, but we were given strict orders to follow Mr. Dorian and what we witnessed was enough to bring him to the Brotherhood to question. If you wish to counter this evidence, you may do so by contacting your Mentor. It is out of our hands now.” The man turned sideways, completely ignoring the two.

They were given strict orders to follow him for how long? There was no evidence they were following him before this. This was the ONLY encounter they have between him and Elise, and they immediately assumed he was conspiring with her despite not even interrogating him or asking him about his intentions. 

By contrast, Elysia has been working with the Templars, particularly her immortal Japanese vampire banker. She has never been called to account for that. I wonder why. 

Arno simply sidestepped, looking from behind the Assassin (who was becoming annoyed), “Maybe Bellac can be reasoned with—”

“Master Bellac is not on the premises.” It was Beylier who entered the Entrance Hall now, regarding the three companions. Arno lifted his gaze, seeing the Master’s eyes narrowed as he inspected behind the two Templars, then to him. “This is a concerning view.”

Yeah, especially since you are holding a kangaroo court trial without adequate evidence.  

“Listen, Elysia can explain everything; it’s the only way to—”

“May I remind you, you’re under questioning, Mr. Dorian and anything else you say will be used against you,” the guard solidly explained, his shoulder almost hitting Arno. “Silence your tongue or we’ll restrain you—”

You are taking him into custody without any evidence or even a cursory question of what he is doing with Elise. Maybe Mirabeau didn't know this, but Elise isn't a threat and she was willing to uphold the truce. But I guess politicians never change.  

“That is exceedingly dramatic, don’t you think?” Beylier confronted this time, Stephen and Clement taking a step to the side to give him the room. “No one touches the Assassin, or the Templars for that matter.” The two behind Arno shot their glances along the scene playing out.

It's dramatic on purpose. Arno needs a reason to be ostracized by his fellow Assassins and for him to be kicked out of the Brotherhood. Bellec needs a reason to enact vengeance.  

All shitty reasons mind you, but the authors never needed an excuse for that. 

“We are strict orders under—”

“I could care less if it’s under Master Mirabeau or not,” Beylier steeled, the four, guarding sentries regarding him attentively. “He is presently occupied by our other two corresponding Masters. Until then, I shall see fit with what you do. Now, if you may step aside—” the dark-skinned elder took a step, and waved a harsh hand to the side, “and give us leeway. That would be appreciated.”

When the black man says 'move', you better move.  

“Master Beylier, we must—”

“This isn’t a request.”

The Assassins internally disputed what to do next, until the prosecutor bowed his head dubiously, “Of course. Apologies, Master Beylier.” And the four stepped behind this time, allowing Arno, Élise and Lafrenière space enough to meet with the other three.

That guy's a prosecutor? He has zero evidence to convict Arno. He cannot go on hearsay, and he certainly cannot go off of one encounter. This is straight up slander, but it's not as if the author was smart enough to realize this.  

Arno sighed, “Thank you.”

His dark eyes curtly scanned him, “Don’t thank me just yet. I will bide you time, so you better hurry and find Elysia.” He strode hastily down the hallway next, leaving them to talk amongst themselves.

Yeah, hurry so she can pin all the blame on Arno and project all of the things she's done on her underlings.  I seemed to have read there was going to be a slap somewhere?

"What is going on, Arno?" Stephen asked once Beylier left. "Who are these two?"

“Uh, right. This is my sister, Élise and her reliable mentor, Lafrenière.” He guessed at that last part, but wasn’t met with opposition of the accusation. “These two are—"

“Stephen and Clement, you kept spewing their names on the way here,” Élise cut in, slightly defensive as she eyed the Assassins monitoring their movements. She lifted her gaze properly this time to Arno’s two companions, “It would be polite to say it’s nice to meet you, but that’s a reach with the circumstances we’re in now.”

Elise is being uncharacteristically bitchy. Look, I get you hate being bothered but you don't seem to care that your 'brother' is being falsely accused of treason just by talking with you.  Have some class, eh?

“Well, it's still nice to meet you, Élise, and you look lovely considering the circumstances." Stephen replied back, clearly unaware of her unimpressed expression. "Is this why they're trying to detain you? They obviously haven't done a good job with detective work if they don't realize she's your sister."

“I don’t think that matters at the moment,” he exhaled, removing his cowl to let his head breathe. “Elysia must be in the café; I know it’s a lot to ask-”

They look nothing alike because THEY ARE NOT RELATED. Goddamit. Enough with this bullshit.  

Clement cuts in, giving a firm nod, “I’ll go get Elysia.”

Arno’s chest tightens, and he wishes he didn’t remove his hood, “Thank you….please hurry back.”

This would have never happened had the prosecutor just asked what Arno was doing with Elise. Connor worked with his father Haytham and was never disowned as a traitor. 

“I will.” He darts off, leaving Stephen with them for company.

Arno turned to his friend again, a frown displaying “Whatever happens….”

"I'm here for you, Arno. What do you need?"

“…Nothing, except wait with me.”

Yes, wait and be tried by a kangaroo court for ONE meeting. Jesus Christ. This isn't the OJ Simpson trial.  

“Mr. Bellac is here to see you.”

Ugh, damn it.

“I’ll be downstairs.” I finished tying the last lace of my boot, pushing my curls back to rub my face clean. After building up the courage to finally confront Orfeo about Samson’s arrival and about to set out, only to have Bellac come unannounced to the café was nothing short of normal. I only hoped it wouldn’t take long.

Yeah it's just your apprentice being accused of treason while you were too busy getting dicked by Big Dick Ritchie. Priorities. 

I filled compartments with my needed effects…though my eyes lingered to the leather pouch on my desk with every slot filled. The soft hum pulsing from it was enough to make me give it a good examination this morning, though I made no attempts to directly touch it. Samson held it with no issue or complication, and I was almost tempted to ask Arno to hold it earlier this morning (but he was gone by then). It would be risky to leave it here alone….

You have a Piece of Eden, out in the open, in a public place where a curious maid could see it and/or steal it. 200 IQ. Then you plan to carry it around with you where its pulsating energy can be felt? 300 IQ. 

I made my way over, and opened the leather flap gently. I angled it enough to make the light catch inside the pouch, and even then, the gem hardly reflected. It was odd, otherworldly like.

“Hurry, Elysia!” Charlotte’s voice rung from the bottom of the staircase. Right, damn it.

Yeah, just carry an otherworldly gemstone around. In a revolution. No one is EVER going to steal it.  

I clasped my digits around the ruby, give it one good turn, and stuffed it into my pocket. I straightened out what papers I had there into one pile, collected my scimitar last and made my way downstairs. The Piece hardly weighed anything with each step I took, and all focus drew away from it when I saw Mathias standing by the entrance way of the Café Manor.

Putting a Piece of Eden in your pocket? 400 IQ. And I wouldn't be so anal about this is if the stone was written to appear mundane and powerless. It was just written that it pulsates and gives off energy, so it can be felt by those around it. If you want to carry it around carelessly, you need a better reason. 

He lifted the cup gently, taking a small sip, “Good morning, Elysia. He’s in the Study Room.”

“I’ll attend to him now, thank you.”

Mathias nudged his elbow to me, eying the oak, double-doors with scrutiny, “Mind yourself,” he whispered.

If Bellec ends up slapping Elysia I am going to be a very happy girl. She deserves it.  

I watched him depart to the busy café portion of the building, and set my sights to the quarters. With one last check in my pocket for the Piece, I entered and closed the door behind me to greet Bellac who rested against the front of Mathias’ desk. He looked….pensive, lost in thought. I closed the door gently behind and met him halfway into the chamber.

I will admit, I was a bit curious on his arrival, considering where we left off last. I was worried I had left him to his own inner devices, that maybe he was up to something. I still had that thought when he met my gaze, and he was positively drained of…something.

The last argument you had? Bellec was in the right. He has the right to be angry that his childhood enemy has been allowed to destroy the French Brotherhood. Better yet, Elysia, a Mentor, did not even bother reading the history of the Brotherhood and was completely astounded at Shay's arrival. She put those people at risk. She's also completely ignorant of Mirabeau's political career; had she known about his slippery dealings she would not be surprised at his secrecy.

“Care to drink anything?”

“…No,” Bellac shook his head, and crossed his arms, “Thank you.”

I didn’t make a motion to sit, and I don’t think he was going to sit either, “Why are you here?”

“To talk.” His abrupt, solid sentences put me on edge.

Hopefully about important thing and not this soap opera drama.

“…I’m listening,” I reassured. He doesn’t say anything for a good amount of time, yet I don’t rush him. Salvaging whatever trust we had left was the best course.

“Perhaps we left on the wrong foot.”

“Perhaps, yes,” I agreed.

Bellac scratched his beard in thought, “It would be foolish to divide ourselves, when we have the same goal.”

“I agree.” 

You were already on the wrong foot when you didn't know who the fuck Shay was despite being granted the title of Mentor. You wasted your time fucking and sucking big dicks and gong to auctions when you could have done important research on Shay and his Red Lotus followers. 

“I will admit I have a personal affliction with Shay.”

I nodded lightly, “I understand that.” It would be foolish to delve further into that, especially with how open he was being currently.

“I don’t want Arno to go through that. He can be naïve and dense, especially to those who he deems as trustworthy. That includes his Templar family.”

Oh for God's sake - THE PURGE OF THE COLONIAL ASSASSINS IS WELL KNOWN. Bellec was THERE AND HIS HISTORY WOULD BE KNOWN TO EVERY MENTOR. EVERY MENTOR EXCEPT THE MAGIC BROWN WOMAN WHO GOT HER POSITION DUE TO HER RACE.  

Also, stop cucking Arno. He is not naïve or dense. You are making him retarded on purpose to make YOU look better. 

I decided to ask, “Wouldn’t you want to trust his judgement on that?”

Bellac shook his head momentarily, “Templars are Templars; they look after their own, and they are built that way; they will never compromise, not without a price. He has to learn that, and so do you.”

I narrowed my eyes, “That’s a dangerous mind to have.”

“It’s not one I’ve randomly conjured up.”

Funny thing is, he's right. And your 'I am so much better than you' philosophy led to dozens - if not hundreds - of Assassins. All because you didn't know who Shay was. 

“What is it that Shay did to you that has made you so adamant on this?” I ended up with instead. Bellac’s rigid silence accentuates the internal confliction he was having, a memory perhaps that he was refusing to envelope in. His rough hand rubs the bottom of his jaw, and a curt chuckle escapes him. 

'What did Shay do to you' says the woman who throws people out of windows and tears them apart with her Twilight claws.  'What did Shay do' says the woman granted Mentor status without having to read a book. Holy fuck, LMAO

“Tell me something, Elysia: what Templar have you come across that didn’t try to kill you? Any you shared a cup of coffee without wanting some intel from you? No? That doesn’t happen. Templars will always want something in return. It’s been that way for centuries, and you think this will change now? That because Arno ended up growing with those uncompromising bastards they’ll give him leeway? No. It doesn’t work like that. If his sister had wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve sought him out the second they threw that boy in jail!”

Again, he's not exactly wrong. Elise SHOULD have sought out Arno (and she does in-game) but she didn't. No one offered any help to Arno because they know he's a retarded cuck. 

Just wait until he finds out who Elysia has been consorting with. 

His acerbic tone agitated me, “You don’t know the circumstances in that.”

“Bullshit! They used that boy to instigate this farce truce to penetrate the Creed! I would go far as to believe that fucker de la Serre put the hit on Charles to succeed that goal!”

Oh boy. No baby, no. Bellec knows who really killed Charles. Let's be honest: he knows it's Shay. So why is he taking out his rage on Arno? He has been working with him for two years. Hasn't he gauged the man who Arno is? No? Well that's just shitty writing, son. You also know Mirabeau agreed to the truce. Take it up with him.  

My nostrils flared, “Don’t involve Arno in this maddening dudgeon you have built around yourself. Are you listening to anything you’re saying now?! It is utterly absurd!”

Well yeah, but we need the drama so this story can be somewhat exciting. No matter how unrealistic and shittily written it is.  

Bellac is breathing raggedly, and he’s pacing around the room. His hands are on his hips, and his permanent frown settles, morphs into a firm line instead as he’s scavenging his orbs around the Study. To calm himself before repeating our last brannigan.

“I need you to understand something, Bellac.”

"I need you to understand I am more oppressed than you, Bellec, despite being more powerful than any of you. I am a Woman of Colour stealing positions from better people. I am fucking oppressed, you hear me?" 

“And what is that?” he sliced the air coldly, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Arno has come a long way than where he started. You acknowledge that, yes?” He says nothing but his prominent stare advises that he’s listening. “I’m not saying you have to change your ways, but I think it would be in Arno’s best interest if you listened to him before you shot down his idea. He looks to you for guidance, I know he does.”

To be honest, we don't really KNOW how far Arno has come because he has never been a central figure in any chapter - Elysia has. So we can't gauge his character development. All we learned is that he's struggling with closeted gay feelings and that he's a dumbass.  

Bellac contemplates this, and finally his eyes lower to meet the carpeted floor. He looks exhausted from his slumping shoulders, and the way his haggard locks hang over his eyes. His fingers hold onto the edge of the desk for support, and I see them somewhat clench. As if he were trying to fight something.

You don't even understand why he's so enraged at Templars, lol. Not as if you asked him anything about him living in Quebec, right? 

I take notice of the warm buzz against my leg, and rub it clean before acknowledging Bellac’s presence again, “I wouldn’t ask you to do this without reason, Pierre. Master to Master, friend to….friend…” Bellac’s face lifted slowly, and we meet directly, “Reconsider, and do what’s best for Arno. Believe in him.”

But YOU don't even believe in him. You have denigrated him and everything about him this entire time. Fact is, when he was drunk and depressed, you saw it as an opportunity to better yourself. 

Sorry. I don't believe anything this bitch says when she does the exact opposite. 

“…I…hear you, loud and clear,” Bellac wipes his pale forehead clean with the heel of his hand. “I….I need to use the restroom. Then we’ll go find the boy and see what he has to say.”

“It’s upstairs, to the left.” Bellac leaves, and I wait by the entrance of the manor. I sigh and rub my face roughly, ultimately wondering why Bellac got this way, to this abstruse conclusion. We had to fix this, come to a solution before things got worse.

It'd be a water closet, not an actual toilet. Hope you know this. 

Suddenly, there’s a scuffle outside, and the opened window reveals Clement sprinting to Grisier and Mathias who happened to be conversing in the courtyard. I swiftly made my way over, already hearing them.

“Where is Elysia?”

“Catch your breath, boy,” Grisier patted his shoulder, “She’s here—”

I cut across the pavement, and the three address me, “What’s wrong??”

“Arno needs you. Now.” 

You know what gets me? Arno is going through this kangaroo court proceedings without the knowledge of Elysia or Bellec. This happened despite the fact Elysia sent Clement and Stephen to spy on Mirabeau's dealings.  

You gotta love it. 

“Where?”

He doesn’t waste a breath, “In the Bureau.”

“Not good news, I imagine,” Mathias regarded to the pupil.

I darted to the front entrance, “BELLAC, we have to go!” There’s no response, and I’m at the bottom of the stairs when Bellac is rushing down. “Arno is—"

“Then we got no time to lose!” Bellac practically jumps the steps, and we’re both darting out front. Clement trailed alongside, leaving a concerned Grisier and Mathias behind.

I also love how Elysia immediately knows what's happening despite not being clued in to what Mirabeau was planning. Can you say she has been...distracted? 

 We arrive in due time, and I prepare myself mentally from what Clement has told me.

And it’s worse than I feared.

You would have been prepared had Stephen and Clement done their jobs. This whole thing could have been avoided had these prosecutors asked Arno what he was doing talking to Elise.

Whatever Assassins remain in the Creed are littered across the Brotherhood cavern, stretching down the lower level of the Initiation Room. Most of the crowd is stationed with a certain group in the center, and the remaining Masters above standing in the arc in front of the Master Room. Mirabeau is in the center, hands planted on the stone railing as Master Quemar is patiently on his right, Sophie and Beylier on the left and spotting me. They are also concerned, though Beylier is much more suited to hide his expression when we come closer.

So are we talking a few hundred? Many of them died from Elysia not knowing - and by extension, no one preparing for - who Shay was. They knew he was in the city; or would know if their spies had done their job. We have wasted time on subplots and counterplots. Now we waste time with this. 

In the center was Arno, standing in-between of Stephen, a redheaded, slender woman and an elder man that was robed in the finest, navy silk. Bellac strode proudly beside me, Clement on my left to put me in the center of the carpeted runway. When we finally touch base in the epicenter of the chamber does Arno turn, and his pale face recolors itself with relief.

Silk wasn't a popular item used for clothing. Linen was. Not to mention it would be very ostentatious.  

“Elysia, Bellac…”

“What the hell is happening?” Bellac interjected first, and gestured to the Dorian and his random companions.

Arno is being tried under a kangaroo court even when Elysia has been actively working with a Templar banker. To boot, Mirabeau has been allowed to engage in his politics the entire time and Elysia didn't learn how politicians are naturally duplicitous from her time in Tuscany. 

Stephen and Clement's mission to spy on him has also failed.

“Master Bellac and Master Elysia: I regret to inform you that your delinquent pupil has found himself in a complicated situation, and one that is not to be taken lightly.” Mirabeau lectured against the rock walls, “Under the guise of completing Assassin missions, it has come to my attention that Mr. Arno Dorian has made an attempt to plot with Templars of Paris: Chrétien Lafrenière and Élise de la Serre stand before you as evidence.”

LMAO. You have ONE encounter. One. There has been no discussion with her anywhere in the story aside from this. If you want to set up this trial, you need to have a lot more context for it. You cannot just drop the ball and expect anyone to believe it. 

Mirabeau was also the one who proposed the truce. Why would he accuse Arno of treason when Elise has posed no threat and she is in a position to negotiate?  

Arno and I meet at a glance, and I nodded of his efforts, “You found your sister.”

“I-I did, yes.”

“Good job,” I ruffled the top of his hood, and he restrains his smile back when Mirabeau doesn’t take kindly to my gesture.

Mirabeau’s impatience heightens, “That is not something to congratulate him with, may I remind you—”

You can't get him on anything. Elise is not your current enemy and she is under threat by Shay, too. Mirabeau should extend an olive branch to her as he did in-game. Neither side is in an advantageous position. Be smart for once. 

“I encouraged him to find his sister,” I asserted adamantly, “There is no conspiracy, as you proclaim. The better question is, why did you have a group of Assassins follow my pupil in the first place?”

The Hall quiets, and Mirabeau is glad to combat.

“I had suspicions you were disobeying my orders.” Mirabeau answers simply, “Acting behind closed doors, getting into matters beyond what your missions state, refusing to cooperate. I had to ensure that what you’ve told me was actually truth.”

Why would he hold Arno in contempt? Elysia is a Mentor and she has actively done things that puts the Brotherhood at risk, including her saying that she does not even care about the Creed at all. She killed a recruit, she almost destroyed a base of operations, and nearly killed three recruits in a botched church mission. She should be the one on trial. Yet she will never lose her status because we cannot have the Magic Brown Woman humbled. 

“Honore!” Sophie remarks, aghast by his admission, “This is abhorred, how long have you been committing this?”

“And have you been pulling this little stunt on the rest of us?” Bellac follows with, gritting his teeth.

“Master Elysia has given me suspicions, and it was in the best interest of the Brotherhood to find out what her true intentions were.” Eyes linger between the two of us, unsure of where they should lie. “From where we stand, it is obvious Master Elysia has been doing just that.”

He is 100% right. The problem is, she is not being held on trial. Arno is. And she won't be held accountable for things she has done. You have far more evidence of her wrongdoing than you do Arno.  

“I’ll gladly do it again,” I replied sternly, feeling all three of my students take a stance behind me. “I have made motions to stop Shay Patrick Cormac because we felt abandoned by your actions, Mirabeau. You’ve done nothing to calm the nerves that have rattled our stronghold, and you still refuse to acknowledge the threat that is outside, to both Assassins and Templars!”

You've done nothing to stop him. You didn't even know who he was.  You wondered how Bellec held such hatred for him when he knows firsthand what that man has done. You continue to remain ignorant yet lecture others on inaction. 

You killed hundreds of recruits. This is on you. 

The crowd murmurs at this, and Beylier pressed his lips together, “…As much as I agree to your sentiments…I must say what you’ve done was not discussed within our barracks.”

So Mirabeau, like Elysia, went behind the other' backs and did what he thought was right - and pinned everything on Arno. I smell strong projection.  

“What for if the one man who would’ve stopped my actions is standing in the center of the hierarchy!” I jabbed my finger toward Mirabeau whose cold eyes targeted me. “I did what I had to do, what a Master had to do. James is dead because of you! Quemar’s team is exterminated because of you! You knew Shay had entered Paris grounds, and you did nothing for weeks! If what I say is untrue, deny it now, deny it in front of the entire Creed, Mirabeau!”

Here's the thing. Mirabeau may be a weaselly politician but he isn't dumb enough to sleep on Shay. You were. Everyone should have been aware Shay was in Paris for the better part of two years. Your incompetence led to you engaging in these stupid missions and killing your recruits. Quemar sent them to die against Shay, and Bellec didn't bother telling Mirabeau to smarten up. Mirabeau would not ignore Bellec as he survived the Colonial purge.  

The silence worsens, and Mirabeau’s roused face contorts to an impatient scowl, then to a disconcerted smile that could make any child cry. The Masters wait, but when Mirabeau doesn’t say anything…when he can’t come to the conclusion to lie—

“Is this true, Honore?” Quemar is the one to break the deafening silence first, and I feel the slumbering quake in his lungs. The vehement fire he had been storing in his unsteady bones, “Were you aware of Shay’s movements?”

You ALL should have been aware of his movements. You have spies and social connections. Shay didn't exactly make a secret of wiping out the Templars. You view Elise as a threat when you should know she is completely defenseless.  

Every single one of you is a feckless retard. 

“….While that may be—” the Masters’ eyes widen at his admission, “—I did what was in the best interest of the Creed.” Quemar’s face darkens, and his hands shake as they clutch his cane.

'Best interests' include lying about your greatest threat, eh? There truly is no justification for this. Hell, the Mentors don't even know he has had correspondence with King Louis. He may be a secretive man but he is not suicidal. He's not going to threaten his career with such a costly mistake. He, historically, ALWAYS covered his bases.   

“You did what was in the best interest to you,” my tongue scorched in my mouth. “And that’s all you’ve been doing. You will accept my efforts to go after Shay Cormac, as I have been doing for the past months with my students because I will not take NO for an answer. Do I make myself clear?”

What efforts? You wasted your time on an opera fight with a pair of anime twins and didn't tell anyone you have a Piece of Eden in your pocket. You openly said to Bellec you didn't give a damn about the Creed. 

It is fucking AMAZING how this creature is able to get away with everything.  

Mirabeau’s mind contested for a dispute, because our hidden quarrels have led to this moment of defiance in front of all faces and peers. I’ve left him open and vulnerable, but that is nothing compared to what other information I knew about him…and he knew this. Saw it in my face that I could remove all the power he had left if I revealed it all and utterly leave his reputation and position in shambles. How I wanted to…

What evidence do you have that could remove his power? The letters he has with Louis XVI? If so, that hasn't been mentioned in over ten chapters. You didn't make it a point to highlight how important they were. If you had evidence to destroy his reputation, why wait until now? You didn't know anything about this kangaroo court and you sure as Hell didn't know about Shay. This Brown Girl Magic Power is as empty as your cunt. 

The quiet seconds stretched until, “….Very well. I listened to your plights and disagreements, and come to the conclusion I have not done enough with what I can.”

And Elysia will not be punished for the crimes Arno has been accused of, because she's brown and he's a Fucking White male.  

“I expect an apology,” I cut in.

Mirabeau’s brows furrowed, “……”

“To my students,” I clarified.

You don't haul them all in front of the Mentors for a show trial. Not without consequences. And having Mirabeau confess to framing an innocent man should warrant distrust, but nooooo. 

Mirabeau regarded them heavily, “….My apologies.” He composes himself again, and tucks his arms behind his back. Beylier rubbed his mouth off (in an attempt to hide whatever expression was unleashed) while Sophie and Quemar exchanged glances between themselves, Mirabeau and myself. Knowing Stephen, he was probably wearing a shit-eating grin somewhere behind me.

So, you had a show trial, where a recruit was falsely accused of high treason, and then you had a Mentor imply that he has committed high treason. And all of this will be conveniently saved for later when Mirabeau is eventually killed. 

 “My next question: what are we do with our guests?” Mirabeau fanned his hand forward, moving the conversation toward Arno’s unannounced visitors. “It’s been a long time, Lafrenière.”

“I see not much has changed since then,” the elder man noted with a slight edge.

The Head Master doesn’t take kindly to that, but lets it slide, “Mr. Dorian has—”

Arno was held in contempt for talking with a Templar once and Mirabeau admits he knows Lafreniere casually. A-fucking-mazing.  

“Please, direct your questions to Miss Élise de la Serre,” Lafrenière interrupted with grace, and signaled to the redhead at his left courteously. “I am merely her Advisor.”

Mirabeau wasn’t liking being ordered around (but it was well deserved I should say), “Very well. Miss Élise de la Serre, I welcome you to our Halls of the Brotherhood; while better circumstances might’ve seemed fit, this will have to do for now.”

I don't get why Mirabeau is testy with Elise when he knows she is the daughter of M. de la Serre and is willing to hear their end of the bargain. Or, at least I expect her too. She's just been a bitch.  

Élise accepted this, looks to Arno momentarily before addressing the Masters, “My name is Élise de le Serre, daughter to François de la Serre, Grand Master of the Templar Order. My Advisor and I have been under great stress due to our divided supporters; allies have been either exterminated or recruited underneath Shay Cormac who dealt the final blow against Germaine and his own conspirators. Arno Dorian was the one who sought us out, and proposed the idea we work together, rather facing this enemy alone. I may consider it…under certain conditions.”

All she had to do was speak up. She didn't. She was willingly hanging out Arno to dry. 

The Masters reflect this, and it is Sophie who takes up the pedestal, “Which leaves us to look toward Elysia, who happens to be Arno’s Mentor; so I will ask you directly, what plan do you have to combat against our common adversary?”

'Fuck with my boyfriend and let other people do the hard work for me.'  

“Shay is after the Pieces of Eden, that is confirmed,” I went straight to the point, and this alone was enough to stir up whispers in the chamber again. “We managed to interfere with the capture of one Piece, but we suspect he might have another, or has intel to see the other out.”

“A Piece is not enough?” Quemar inquired with concern.

“He needs the other to activate the one we found,” I clarified. “We’re unsure of where he’ll strike next, but it is better we gather what resources we could to make sure it doesn’t come to fruition.”

You don't have resources, that's the problem. You waste them. You killed hundreds of recruits and the ones you personally train you treat like garbage. How much time could have been spent hunting for PoEs instead of saving a mute Pole at an opera house? How much manpower could have been saved - let alone lives - had you asked Bellec why he hated Templars so much?

“As unsettling as this news is, I also agree with Master Elysia,” Beylier nodded proudly. “We are one step ahead, and it would be unwise to not use this knowledge to our advantage.”

You're not one step ahead. Shay has wiped out nearly all of your base. You guys are fucked. You will never admit that.   

“It’s….much to consider,” Sophie answered next. “You put us in a difficult position Master Elysia….but if you propose both Assassins and Templars work together…then I also agree this is the path we must take. Master Quemar?”

Wow. Elysia is taking credit for something Mirabeau and M. de la Serre proposed. Amazing. The Brown Woman is asking credit for something she never did.  I am so shocked. 

The trench-coat man exhales softly, pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion before nodding solemnly, “If that is what it takes to bring Shay Cormac to justice, so be it.”

“Then we’re in accordance,” Mirabeau replied. “Master Elysia, if you will—”

She doesn't deserve credit for this. At all. Arno was the one who told Elysia about the truce and he was the one who sought her out. Elysia did none of that. She is the perfect 'I made this' meme.  

“You whole lot have lost your damn minds!” the cantankerous Bellac bellowed in defiance, and strode forward to point directly at Élise and Lafrenière. “It’s all a trick, and no doubt they have stepped in to pull this trick for Shay himself!”

Bellec isn't exactly in the wrong here. But his anger is misguided. He should be angry at every Mentor here because they slept on Shay, Elysia in particular. Mirabeau knew who Shay was. She didn't.  

Arno sternly stood defensively next to Élise (who took note of his swift movement), “I can assure you it’s not. I trust Élise. If she trusts Lafrenière, then so will I! This is our best course of action, and you know it!”

Lafreniere was far more interesting in-game. Just saying. And oh, Arno did kill him based on a hunch. He just goes along with what anyone says in this iteration.  

Bellac laughed bitterly, “What the hell happened to you?? What the fuck did she do to mess with your mind, pisspot!”

Uh, nothing? This is the first time he's spoken to her in two years, lol. You can't decipher that he doesn't know her very well?  

I stepped into view, and once more Bellac’s bellicose, coal eyes motioned to mine. Enraged, irate and obscure. “Watch your mouth,” I warned.

Bellac’s teeth grinded, and suddenly he turned to Beylier, “This is where I draw the line; I make the motion to remove Elysia as Arno’s Mentor and revoke our partnership. And I demand it now.”

Strip her Mentor status as a whole and I'll give you a drink.  

Arno’s eyes shoot open, and I shake my head in loss of Bellac’s deterring sanity.

“Master Bellac, you hold no authority to request—”

He does, actually. He has the same authority Mirabeau did calling this mock trial for Arno. He can absolutely call for Elysia to lose her powers because she is guilty of everything Bellec AND Mirabeau have accused Arno of. Don't call him insane when he has been right on everything.

“Oh, like you weren’t just scrambling to save face, Mirabeau!” Bellac snaps to the Grand Master, and now all of them are intently watching him. “I was the one that found the boy first, I should have the say for what’s best for him! And I say he’s lost his damn marbles if he thinks us Assassins can work together with the enemy.”  

He's right, you know. And he spent a longer time with Arno and trained him first. The Magic Brown Woman claimed authority over him because, you know, muh diversity.  

“My sister is not an enemy!” Arno contended, but it fell on deaf ears as Bellac didn’t cut his glower from me.

1. She's not your sister. And if she was, Bellec would likely have more sympathy because you are actually related by blood. When Elise is Arno's lover, there is no loyalty there.  

“She’s the fucking daughter of the former head of the Templars. You’re damned thick-headed if you don’t think she’s a part of the problem!” Bellac points to the Templars’ direction once more, “I say we just end it now and drop their bodies at the steps of the Templar headquarters. Give Shay Cormac a real message, an eye for an eye.” 

I'd understand this -IF Elise was an actual problem. She is not. Every Mentor had the chance to learn about Shay and they did not. They have suffered at the hands of Shay, not Elise. They should all know Elise isn't a threat. When confronted with Shay, Bellec may hate Elise but he hates Shay more. He'd begrudgingly help her over helping Mirabeau. That's how he'd act. 

“You’re out of your fucking mind; I tried to reason with you but obviously that has fallen on deaf ears,” I spat with venom. “Arno is not leaving with you!”

He's a man, not a child. This isn't a custody battle. He can make his own decisions. I'd respect him more if he told you both to eat shit, which is something the actual Arno would do.  

“Damn right he’s not, he’s staying with us!” Stephen’s patience had diminished, Clement stepping in tow as backup. Bellac’s sturdy hand clasped, but I was swift to grab Arno’s other arm.

“Let go of the boy, Elysia,” Bellac’s growl vibrated across.

“He’s not leaving with you,” I cemented further.

Arno winced, “Bellac-“

“Let go of him, Pierre.”

This is really devolving into a Maury Povich fight. I gotta laugh.  

“Not a chance!”

“B-Bellac!” Arno struggled harshly.

“ENOUGH.” Mirabeau nearly shouted. “Let go, both of you.” I released my hold, but Pierre held firm.

“Dorian is coming with me, end of discussion!” Bellac tugged once, but that was all it took before—

“I’m. Not. Going. With. YOU.”

Maybe it didn't occur to you, but Arno is a young twenty-something. He's not a nine year old. Stop treating him like one. He can make his own informed decision. This shouldn't be a literal tug of war but a tense altercation where Arno decides what's best for him.  

This infantilization needs to stop. 

SLAP.

The shattering sound echoed across the stone walls, Bellac’s reddened face hidden behind his mess of a mane. With a defiant step back, Arno was free as he faced his resolved Master. Bellac’s face eerily lifted, and his sunken eyes inspected Arno with lethal conviction. I stood protectively beside the troubled, younger man, followed by Stephen and Clement on either side of us. 

Arno is so effeminate and queer he cannot even punch Bellec, but has to slap him. I would have appreciated it if Bellec was the one who slapped him instead. I cannot stand this bitch boy.  

“All I wanted…was for you to try to understand. Understand me! Elysia accepted that, so w-why couldn’t you?!” Arno practically pleaded, eyes red.

She didn't accept you. All she did was weaponize your depression to make HER redemption complete. You are an effeminate tool and that's all you'll ever be.  

Bellac’s deep words practically rumbled out, “Everything I did….was for you. Everything I sacrificed was for you. I taught your father everything he knew, and I did everything in my power to do the same for you! You think I picked you as my apprentice randomly?! You naïve boy, I knew who you were the moment you stepped into that prison. I could’ve left you there, and this is how you repay me!? After everything we’ve been through??”

I'd understand this outburst if Bellec did anything of the sort. He has never appeared in Arno's life in this story. Elysia has. She has been the one shaping him to be what he is. Bellec did not make enough of an impact for this speech to have any meaning. This is what happens when telling, and not showing, takes precedence.  

Arno’s teeth gritted, and his tear flew with a swipe of his arm, “Just because you got to have a meaningful relationship with my father doesn’t mean you can pick up where you last left off! I’m not my father, I’m not Charles and I’m never going to be.”

I was going to say, this feels like a case of a deadbeat dad suddenly coming into his son's life and telling the son that he is responsible for everything in his life.  

“What exactly do you expect me to do? Watch you throw your life away because you think you know what’s best??” the Master scoffed bitterly.

Arno hasn't even had time to make a decision, let alone live his life. This lecture is meaningless.  

“I just wanted you to trust me!” Arno revealed, opening his arms in front of himself. “And if you won’t accept me for who I am, who I can become in the future, then what place do you have to be in my life anymore??”

'I'M LIVING MY TRUTH' says the queer young man who is incapable of making any adult decisions on his own with Big Brown Mommy making those decisions for him.

That did it.

Bellac’s sneering expression clayed on his pale face, his chest dictating the movement of his feet. One turn, and Bellac pridefully stalked down the aisle of the parted Assassins, their eyes lingering on his broad back. Once up the steps, Bellac was gone, followed by the sound of a slamming gate. Arno’s hands crossed on his chest, one palm rubbing the bruise Bellac must’ve left on his upper arm. I placed a gentle hand on his back.

Don't worry, the deadbeat dad will be back, killing Mirabeau and fighting Arno at the top of Notre Dame. Or will Elysia take his place as she has done for every single defining moment of Arno's life? 

“Arno…” I exhaled deeply, “I’m….so sorry.”

“I…I tried to make him understand.” He faced forward again, and gave a sad smile with wet eyes, “But it wasn’t enough.”

“I tried to, too. It’s not your fault.”

“…It feels like it is.”

You're not sorry. You're only sorry that it damanges your reputation. And I will repeat: Bellec wasn't even mentioned in any of the Arno chapters. We do not know the extent of their 'bond'. He is, for all intents and purposes, a deadbeat dad. His outburst holds no weight.  

I brushed his upper back gently, and collected the looks of the Masters’ faces that could do nothing but try to compose themselves, “I take full responsibility for Arno Dorian.”

“Then….it shall be,” Mirabeau cleared his throat, looking almost comfortable after Bellac’s baleful display, “Unless there are any objections?” The other Masters shook their heads. “Then…let us proceed.”  

Yes...proceed with the kangaroo court for crimes a Mentor takes full responsibility for. 

This whole chapter was a disaster. There was so much content to go through this took me about as long as the author takes to pump out a chapter (i.e a month). I have repeatedly said this author uses a lot of exposition dialogue to move the story along and it never works in her favour. The first half of the chapter deals with Arno discussing his sexuality with de Sade as if he is a newly minted teenage boy discovering pornography for the first time. He admits he may be ‘demisexual’ – which is not a real sexuality, mind you – and has closeted gay feelings for the big gay bear Clement.

The second half deals with his first meeting with Elise in the entire story. He then is accused of treason by Mirabeau, who sent a pair of Assassins after him after suspicions Arno was plotting against the Brotherhood. Naturally, there has been no evidence for this beforehand and if Mirabeau could send Assassins to follow one recruit, he could bother to gather evidence on Shay for the past two years. The rest of that half deals with a kangaroo court that a pair of simple questions could dismiss. Arno has never spoken to Elise at all during the entire duration of this work, and he has been by Elysia’s side the entire time. What we saw instead was a grand case of projection.

Elysia is guilty of everything Arno is accused of: she has gone behind Mirabeau and the Mentors’ backs, stole a Piece of Eden without telling anyone, sent two of her recruits to spy on Mirabeau (who brought up nothing and did not tell her of Mirabeau’s plans to falsely accuse Arno), and did not bother to learn about Shay. She also told Bellec to his face that she does not care about the Creed. As expected, as she is a Magic Brown woman, she faces no consequences for her actions. We cannot hold People of Colour accountable to white standards, as that is evidence of systemic racism.

Bellec has to be the shining star of this story. He manages to act like the deadbeat dad who left for cigarettes at the station, only to come back to find his son more successful than him and berate him for it. The thing is, Bellec would be far more sympathetic if he factored more in Arno’s life. He has scarcely appeared in Arno’s (lack of) development. His speech on how he will take revenge on everyone and Arno’s tearful admission he just wanted to be accepted fall on deaf ears. The author wants to aim for The Last Airbender writing, but this would sell as well as Zuko and Azula fighting the Agni Kai without ANY build up to their eventual fight. What Bellec says is true – Elysia is a bad influence – but him taking his rage out on Arno is misplaced. Arno has done nothing wrong.

But what gets me the most is the fact Elysia takes credit for the Assassin-Templar truce. She did not conceive of it. Mirabeau did. But since Mirabeau is painted as the villain here, we cannot attribute any credit to him. Even villains can make good decisions, you know.

What we got is the token Brown Woman taking credit for something a white man did. It’s not a good look and it certainly doesn’t make you a full fledged character. You are a token.

Bellec and Mirabeau both confessed to treason during that kangaroo court and not a single person did anything about it. What was that about improving their decisions from those they made in-game? Mirabeau was a politician by nature. He is not going to throw away all of his cards, and certainly not to a woman who got to her position without any merit. If he knew Elysia knew about his letters with the King, it was never written about. It’s one of those details conveniently omitted because the author doesn’t think critically about what she puts in here. In any other case I’d be embarrassed, but here I am just irritated.

You shouldn’t spend 3,000 words on a kangaroo court segment without introducing the things that make it a kangaroo court. You could have built up to it as well as have Arno framed, but all you did was just throw the book at him. You knew it wasn’t going to stick and have no lasting importance. What is left now is the Mirabeau murder and Bellec’s coup.

Speaking of, we are nearly at 270,000 words and we haven’t met a single revolutionary. Napoleon hasn’t even been introduced. Are we ever going to see them or are we going to stick with making Magic Brown Woman the sole Mentor capable of doing all the good in the world?

I still wish Bellec could have slapped her or that Arno punched him. Arno’s infantilization is the absolute worst. The author can’t write men properly whatsoever, despite suddenly developing a liking for cock after coming out as pansexual. She can’t even write women properly, despite being one; all of the female characters are absolute bitches to read. Elise has one personality trait and Elysia takes credit for all the things other people do. She arrives to a mock trial unsure of what is happening and then admits she has the dirt on Mirabeau; she pulls Arno side to side as if he is a ragdoll and not a fully adult man capable of making his own decisions.

She is textbook DARVO. This story should be retitled: “Accuse your enemy of what you yourself is doing.” It’d at least have the contents that matched the packaging.