I can barely conceive how much has changed in the last three years. How far our roads have taken us–sometimes I feared our paths would diverge forever, or else come together at loggerheads like the star-cross’d lovers in some hackneyed stage piece. Yet here we are, not the same brash children we once were, nor yet strangers.
When this is over, when Germain is dead at our feet and my father rests, who then will we be? Assassin Mentor and Templar Grand Master? The continuation of the old, or the beginning of something new? Will we shape the future of our world, or will we retire quietly to the countryside to raise goats? (I can just see you as a goatherd, leaping and climbing about the Alps. No goat would have a chance of escaping you.)
I do not know what the next days, months, years will bring. All I know is that we shall remain Arno and Élise, and with that, I am content.