April 13, 1898
I.
I remembered that during those times, May 1, 1882. I found myself in Paris, enrolled in an all-girls school to further my studies. The scenery here was vastly different from Manila, as I marveled at the architectural marvels that adorned the streets. Unlike the bustling cityscape of Manila, Paris was graced with majestic buildings that seemed to touch the heavens. The streets bustled with activity, but there was an air of refinement and elegance that permeated the atmosphere.
As I observed the locals, I couldn't help but notice their impeccable fashion sense. Every passerby was dressed in elaborate attire, I couldn't help but glance at my own attire every time I encountered a local dressed in exquisite finery. However, I always reminded myself that I wasn't here to compare myself to others but rather to focus on my studies.
II.
I found myself seated in a charming café, delicately sipping on a cup of Café au Lait. Its flavor was a revelation, unlike the robust barako coffee back home. This brew was velvety smooth, with a hint of sweetness that whispered across my tongue.
My classmate and dear friend, Isabeau Catherine Leclerc, accompanied me as we lounged in this café.
"So, Maria, how's your stay here in France? Is everything alright?" Isabeau inquired as she took a sip of her latte.
"Hmm, it's okay. I'm still struggling with learning the French language, but thanks to you, I'm starting to get the hang of it," I replied earnestly.
"Great!" she exclaimed in French, her eyes lighting up with genuine warmth.
I rested my chin in my palm, inhaling the crisp Parisian air.
"Is it always like this in Paris?" I asked, pausing momentarily. "It feels like I'm in a painting."
"Well, before it became visually pleasing like this, Paris went through a dark period," she explained with a nod.
"Oh?" I inquired, intrigued.
"Oh! The French Revolution"
"Yes, indeed," she confirmed with a solemn tone.
The sky was tinged with shades of orange as the sun began its descent. "Well, I better head off. We have an early start tomorrow with Madame Charbonneau," Isabeau announced, rising from her seat.
"True, she can be quite stern," I remarked.
"She's getting old, you know. Every time she gets angry, her hair turns even whiter," Isabeau chuckled.
We shared a laugh at her comment.
"You're quite eccentric," I said, lightly tapping her arm.
Like other noblewomen in Paris, Isabeau's attire was extravagant. However, she stood out because of her approachability. In fact, she was the one who approached and befriended me when I first moved here.
III.
After a lengthy lecture on literature from Madame Charbonneau, it was finally our Coupure du midi, or in Tagalog, tanghalian, so Isabeau and I decided to lounge under the tree near the school's backyard.
It was sunny, but not as scorching as the sun in Manila, where its rays could sometimes sting the skin.
"I'm excited for the next subject," Isabeau remarked.
"Same here," I replied, sharing her anticipation.
"You know, in all my life, you're the first friend I've had who wasn't born in Paris," she shared, a hint of sincerity in her voice.
YOU ARE READING
In The Eyes of a Noble: An Assassin's Creed Revolution Novel
FanfictionFIGHT THE OPPRESSION. UNITE YOUR PEOPLE. JOIN THE REVOLUTION. Follow the journey of the templar turned assassin, Qingsen, through his personal journals as he searches for his missing sister and uncovers the mystery his mother left while establishing...
