Raphael Saint-Clemont held a small booklet in his hands, rapidly calculating the amount of food rations for the day. The jolting of the small stagecoach forced him to occasionally pause his writing, sighing impatiently.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. Raphael leaned out irritatedly to ask the carter,"What''s going on?"

"The road''s blocked, citizen," the carter cheerfully replied, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he looked over at the two tumbrels passing by."Looks like another high-profile head will roll today."

Raphael glanced over at the prisoners standing high, surrounded by the jostling crowd, an all too familiar scene in Paris. Yet amidst the chaos, something peculiar about this group caught his eyes.

On the tumbrel, a big, strapping man wept with red and swollen eyes, his knees trembling so violently in terror that they could barely stay straight. The maiden next to him appeared to be only fifteen or sixteen, with arms as thin as reeds; she held her head high with an expression so proud, as if she were headed to receive an award.

An old man on his last leg with his head hung low, seemed overwhelmed with despair at his impending final blow. While a young mother, nursing her infant just yesterday, wore a serene smile despite her bound hands behind her back.

Raphael did not recognise the "celebrity" who had attracted the Parisian masses, nor did he care to inquire.

The prisoner carts rumbled away, and the crowd dispersed. Raphael tapped on the carriage wall, signaling the carter to continue on.

------------------------

Edith followed Andre into the prison, her heart slightly uneasy. Andre was there to interrogate an aristocrat prisoner who had led troops in the Vendée rebellion, and she insisted on coming along to watch.

The aristocrat was chained to a chair, his once opulent garments now tattered and stained with varying shades of blood. It was obvious that the prolon