Phillipe continued to stare at the cobblestones, lost in thought. Marc leaned against the armory door, testing his shoulder. With every slight move he made, his face grew taught with pain. Through gritted teeth, he managed to speak.

"Phillipe"

The young man looked up, not wholly focusing on Marc, but instead upon what had just happened.

"We're all alone now. Why don't you let that gypsy beast resurface again? Why don't you just come over and kill me?"

Phillipe grabbed Marc's fallen rapier, and crossed the courtyard in a few strides. He grasped Marc by the collar of his vest, and lifted him off of the ground, the rapier almost brushing his throat. Marc turned pale again. He stared at Phillpe, who was now at eye level. The sparks of hate he saw in the boy's silver eyes terrified him. Phillipe drew the blade back, and a frightened squeal escaped Marc's lips. The rapier moved forward, but then altered its course. Phillipe dug the blade through the course fabric of the vest and into the armory's wooden door. Lowering his hands, he folded them across his chest.

"Why don't I kill you? Because I wouldn't sink to your level."

He turned and walked away, leaving Marc dangling from the door. Waiting outside was his three captors.

"What did you do with him?" Antoine asked nervously, noticing his friend walked out alone. Phillipe merely smiled though his anger was still boiling inside of him. Louis peeked back into the yard; but then smiled at the sight. "We can go," he said.