Chapter 2: The Executioner's Faith
Both fighters stood stoically in the middle of the arena, the onlookers from all corners of Creation staring down at them. Helios and Selene took this opportunity to retreat to their chariots, ascending into the sky so as to avoid the crossfire. The Gods looked on smugly, recognizing the fabled executioner and assassin; the humans, on the other hand, looked down in disbelief at the frail and thin figure standing up for their continued existence. Human voices, incredulous and impudent, began to call out.
"What was that Prometheus guy thinking, sending in some scrawny kid? That sword's as big as he is, how's he supposed to fight with that thing?"
"Forget that, how's a sword supposed to hurt a God in the first place? Is this really the guy we're supposed to be putting our trust into?"
If the words seemed to bother Charles-Henri, then the Frenchman did not let it show. Those who could see his face would be forgiven for thinking he had spaced out or fallen asleep with his eyes open, a listless look staring through Nemesis. No hatred or rage, not even a sense of acknowledgement for her as a person.
Nemesis saw an opportunity and took it, not sparing a second for any words as she grasped the whip on her belt and slashed outwards with it. In that split second between the attacks, Charles-Henri brought his sword down to block the attack, the whip cracking against the blunt side of the blade as he used the massive weapon as an improvised shield.
As the whip end clashed against the flat side of the blade, something unusual happened. The whip's cords split and shot out in different directions, going around the sword and lashing out at Charles-Henri's body with barbed ends. Luckily for him, the sword deflected much of the blow and he was left only with glancing wounds, shallow cuts across either shoulder and arm from the four separated cords.
"Nemesis has drawn the first blood!" called out Helios, his chariot circling the arena's skyline.
"This is the whip Adrasteia, Nemesis' Divine Weapon! A whip sharper than any blade, able to split and separate into a proper cat o'nine tails! No criminal, mortal or divine, can escape this whip once she has their sights set upon them," Selene explained from her own spot in the sky.
Nemesis scowled at the sight. She had been aiming for the man's throat, hoping to end it quickly, but he had caught her off guard with the defensive maneuver he had pulled off. She retracted the whip, pulling it back and allowing the cords to reconnect into one another.
"I'll grant you a quick, clean death if you lay down your arms and forfeit. There's no need to continue with the Titan's hubris any longer than you already have," Nemesis offered.
Charles-Henri, still standing behind his sword, looked past it and directly at Nemesis, piercing blue eyes now directed solely at her. "No, I'm sorry but I can't do that. I have a duty to see through."
"A duty? What kind of executioner would get in the way of the Gods' justice? Humanity must pay for their sins," Nemesis said coldly.
"The Gods abandoned us long ago, leaving man to govern themselves and take the matters of justice into their own hands…You lost the right to make any decisions about us long ago."
Nemesis snapped, lashing out with her whip once again and watching as the cords separated, barbed wires seeking purchase in some part of the Frenchman's body. But this time, he was not content with blocking. He knew he would have to go on the offensive if he wanted to win, and so he charged at her.
With surprising speed, Charles-Henri launched himself forward, each step propelling himself forward with full force. Each step he took seemed to launch him forward with the full force of every muscle in his body, making his running look like something more akin to a series of jumping bursts. In a matter of seconds, he had closed the gap and was preparing to bring his sword down upon her head, bringing it over his head and preparing for a massive overhead swing.
As the sword came down with full force, it was all Nemesis could do to leap back, fueled by instinct at the sudden display of speed from the executioner. The sword came down with great force, the weapon's sheer weight and force crushing the ground where the Goddess had once stood, stones and dust shooting into the air from the impact.
"This is unbelievable! With that one swing, the human has done the unthinkable!" Selene shouted out, her calm demeanor breaking at the sight.
It wasn't just the speed or strength with which Charles-Henri had moved that caught the Gods off guard, but what they saw trailing from the spot where his hit had landed to the spot that Nemesis had retreated from. Faint droplets of blood lead directly to where the Goddess of Revenge stood, her own shoulder cut by a glancing blow.
"With one swing of his sword, Charles-Henri has managed to hurt a God!"
Jupiter rose from his throne, veins in his neck bulging in sheer rage. "That cheating fuck! I don't know how he did this, but he'll pay!"
"Lord Jupiter, if I may? I might have an idea about how he pulled this scheme off," Minerva offered, frowning slightly. As Jupiter turned his head to her, she simply pointed forward at the opposite balcony, directly at Prometheus and Pandora.
Pandora squirmed in her seat uncomfortably, feeling the eyes of the Gods falling upon her. Conversely, Prometheus smiled cheekily and offered an insincere wave. Jupiter continued to seethe.
"That brat looks so familiar, to me…Why would she throw her lot in with Prometheus, who does she think she is?" Jupiter snarled, looking to his advisors for input.
Juno remained silent, but Minerva continued. "Pandora, sir. The girl you gave to Epimetheus, remember? The one with that box?"
Jupiter froze, the words sinking in as he remembered that day.
Valhalla, After Prometheus' Banishment
It had been just a week since the exile of Prometheus for his crimes against the Heavens. Despite this, someone with the appearance of Prometheus was lying lazily in the gardens of Valhalla, staring at the sky forlornly. Physically he was Prometheus' exact duplicate, though his hair was much longer and his frame slightly more muscular than that of the modern Prometheus. This was the other Titan of Knowledge, Epimetheus, left to ponder his own fate after seeing his brother's trial and banishment.
"What am I gonna do about this, Promy," Epimetheus whined to himself. He could only stand in silence as his brother was banished. He had been accidentally made into an accomplice by his brother, as was the trend in their history together. So now he was here, waiting for the other boot to drop and see if he would be joining his brother and so many of their other kin in exile.
Epimetheus' pondering was ended by the sound of flowers being crushed underfoot. Jupiter appeared, younger and with blond in place of all his gray but remaining just as stern and unhappy. Behind him trailed a young woman, carrying a rather large and unwieldy jar.
"Lord Jupiter!" Epimetheus scrambled to rise to his feet, desperately trying to show some reverence to the man who would no doubt decide his fate.
"Don't break your neck trying to get up too fast," Jupiter chuckled to himself dryly. "I come here not as the King, but as a friend. Your family has been through so much...betraying your own parents to aid my Pantheon, watching over Humanity...losing your brother."
Epimetheus could only look at his feet at the list of turmoils he had gone through. It was true enough; he and Prometheus had sided with Jupiter against the rest of their family and had led the charge in getting so many of their own kind to turn against the other Titans. When it was all said and done, he and Prometheus had taken it upon themselves to teach mankind how to survive. But then Prometheus had gotten one of his crazy ideas and ruined all of that.
"I'm here to offer an olive branch to you. A peace offering, so that there are no hard feelings between us. Your brother committed a crime against us, but you were a victim too. Forced to go along with his bidding and used, just like the rest of us," Jupiter continued. Epimetheus wanted to summon up the courage to argue in his brother's defense, but the words would not come out. He was choking on his own cowardice and continued to stare at the ground sorrowfully.
At this, Jupiter stepped to the side and gently pushed the girl forward. Epimetheus saw her and was immediately struck by her appearance. He almost forgot that Jupiter was looming over them both, as if in some act of perverse and manipulative voyeurism.
"This dear girl is Pandora. She can never replace our friend Prometheus, of course, but she should be able to do his job well enough. I'm something like a father to her, you see, so think of this as me giving my daughter away," Jupiter laughed at his own joke. Pandora squirmed uncomfortably, though like Epimetheus she remained silent. The implications of what Jupiter was suggesting were not lost on either of them.
"So you want me to just forget about my brother and settle down, just like that?" Epimetheus asked hesitantly. He didn't want to question Jupiter's authority too much, but he could hardly believe that he only wanted to see this girl married off.
"Oh? Is something wrong with Pandora? Do you intend to turn down a gift from the King of the Gods, when I could have just as easily hung you from the trees in Paradise?" Jupiter hissed; his mirthful laughter replaced by a threatening grin. It was as if the features of his face were gone, replaced by shadow and by two soulless eyes glaring at the Titan.
Epimetheus swallowed the lump in his throat. He understood the threat well enough. If Epimetheus or Pandora were to refuse, then they would likely be killed on the spot, or worse. He wasn't sure what had led to the girl being under Jupiter's thrall like this, but he could only assume it was a similar situation as his own.
"Of course not, Lord Jupiter."
"Excellent! As for the dowry...well, I think what you'll find within the jar will be more than sufficient," Jupiter said, and as if on cue Pandora began to approach the Titan, offering the strange jar out to him.
Epimetheus reluctantly took the clay jar, holding it in his hands. Despite its small size and his own intimidating statue, it had an incredible weight to it, as if he was holding the weight of the world itself in his hands. He looked to Jupiter, who only stared back at him expectantly. With great reluctance, Epimetheus began to undo the ropes that bound the jar, feeling unease consume his entire being. The hair across his body began to stand straight up, everything warning him that unsealing the Box would be a bad idea. When he finally removed all the seals from it, a massive column of black smoke shot out from the jar and straight into the sky.
Jupiter cackled with glee. "My gift to you, and to those humans your brother betrayed us for and loved so much! Demons, spirits, plagues, and misfortune! Let's see how they enjoy what they've stolen now! " Jupiter began to wander off, laughing at his own cruel joke. "Enjoy your nuptials!"
It was all Epimetheus could do to force the lid back on Pandora's Box, but the damage was done. Throughout all of creation, countless misfortunes and spirits began to spread out through the World of Man. The force of the spirits being expelled had been enough to knock Pandora to the ground, though she was quickly recovering and busy murmuring apologies to Epimetheus for her part in the scheme. But Epimetheus couldn't hold it against her, for he knew the truth of it all. The one rule by which all of Creation had to follow.
There is no way to escape the will of Jupiter.
"I brought that brat to life, and she thinks she has the right to turn against us? I'll kill her and Prometheus myself!" Jupiter snarled, turning to stomp off only to find Juno and Minerva blocking his path.
"Lord Jupiter, we might wish to reconsider. If you lash out now, the other Gods might think the sight of Nemesis' injury might have scared you into reacting, or take it as you trying to cut the tournament short," Minerva explained.
"We know that you are not, but we cannot guarantee that the others won't take this chance to try something…Maybe that is what Prometheus wanted all along," Juno explained, speaking in a voice much quieter than her counterpart possessed.
"Besides, this changes things. After Pandora abandoned that jar, it was meant to be in our vaults. Mercury went down and took it himself, after all." Minerva said.
"We'll let this round end, and then we will look into this ourselves. I don't need Horus or Marduk nosing around anymore than they already are," Jupiter conceded. "For now, we'll just trust Nemesis to do her job and see this through."
With that, the Roman Gods' attention turned back to the fight at hand.
"What is the meaning of this, human? For a human to even hurt a God is impossible, what have you done?" Nemesis demanded, touching her wound and looking at the light amount of blood that had settled upon her fingers.
"Normally the prisoner doesn't get to ask questions of their executioner," Charles-Henri mused, lifting the sword and balancing its weight against one of his shoulders. "So I don't see any reason why I should tell you."
"Fine, keep your secrets. I'll just rip the answers out of your smug little skull, human," Nemesis spat, snatching her whip back and swinging it around for another attempted lashing.
This time, Charles-Henri could see the cords of the whip closing in on him from multiple directions. A simple block or hiding would not suffice, and dodging it would only open him up to further attacks. This time, he brought the sword back up at an angle, rearing back like he was going to make a horizontal slash. But this time, he surprised everyone by swinging forward at the air, engaging in a dizzying spin attack.
"Catherine's Wheel!" He identified the attack, his whole body rotating in place as he and his sword spun a full 360 degrees, batting away the various cords of Adraestia.
"Not only has he managed to hurt a God, but he deflected every single one of her barbs with one spin from that massive sword!" Selene called out, as the confusion and panic began to set in among the onlookers.
As the spinning came to a stop, Nemesis found herself on the backfoot. Unsure of what to do, she snatched her whip back up to recoil it and prepare for another strike. But in that moment of pause, the executioner made his move. Charging forward with that same blistering speed, when he got to a halfway point between them, he leaped into the air just as he began to perform another spin attack.
"Catherine's Wheel…" Blade and body twirling through the air, Charles-Henri closed the distance between them quickly, Nemesis doing her best to step to the side of the spinning blade, hoping to end up just out of reach of it. However, as she stepped to the side of the blade, she felt something collide with her face. "Retentum!"
In the moment between him approaching her and her dodge, Charles-Henri had released his grip on the sword. Relying on its momentum, he allowed it to remain spinning in the air and, seeing her try to side-step, went for a simple punch. Nemesis fell back, not expecting the direct hit and feeling the blood flow from what must have been a broken nose.
"I've had enough of humoring this little game…You act like you're some kind of symbol of justice, but you get in the way of divine punishment, and even dare to take up arms against a God!" Nemesis rose back up, speaking through gritted teeth. "At least now I know the truth. That sword isn't anything too special…it's you. Of course that thief did something as part of his little scheme."
Charles-Henri said nothing, instead dashing out to retrieve his sword, preparing for another attack. He could not let her spend too much time deciphering what he and Prometheus had done. Nemesis lashed out with her whip, but this time it did not separate or split apart; instead, the whip wrapped around the blade as it was in his hands, and Nemesis used all the force in her relatively lithe frame to lift and begin swinging the whip, and by extension Charles-Henri, around.
The whip released him, sending him soaring towards one of the walls of the arena. But just before he made contact, he turned himself in the air, his feet making contact with the stone wall. Whether it be from the force of the impact, the throw, or something else altogether, the spots where his boots made contact began to crack and shudder under the sheer force, as he launched himself forward, using the wall of the arena as a springboard.
"Crux Simplex!" as he launched himself forward, he kept the sword aiming straight ahead of him, in a rather simplified stabbing gesture.
It was all Nemesis could do to leap out of the way of the stabbing attack, watching as Charles-Henri's sword stabbed into the ground where she once was, splintering under the weight of the attack. Even so, as he recomposed himself, Charles-Henri yanked the sword out of the ground with ease.
"So I was right, the traitor did something to your body…It's your strength, isn't it?" she reasoned. Charles-Henri only grimaced in response, seeing that the cat was out of the bag.
"So, what will we do from here, Monsieur Sanson?" a voice rang out in his head. Charles-Henri could feel himself joined by a new presence, as if something was spectrally hanging over his shoulder.
Perceivable only by him, the spectral figure was humanoid enough, tall and with a gangly physique. Blonde hair with bangs that hung over his right eye, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and immaculate white robes with an ornate golden trim over them. The spirit looked over Charles-Henri's shoulder, an eyebrow raised at the sight of Nemesis.
"I was hoping we would be able to keep her guessing for a bit longer, maybe even get her to think the sword was some kind of Divine Weapon…Oh well, best laid plans and all that," the spirit continued to himself.
"I'll see my duty through to the end, just like I said to begin with, Pistis," Charles-Henri steeled himself, now holding the sword in both hands as he prepared for the fight to start in earnest.
"Well, the cat was bound to be out of the bag at some point or another," Prometheus sighed, resting his head on one of his fists.
"So this is why you wanted me to get the Jar," Pandora realized. "I knew there was something still hiding in there, but for it to make this much of a difference…"
"By itself, the spirits within that Jar wouldn't matter too much. Only when they resonate with a human soul can they achieve full potential, such is the fate of those who are stuck in the metaphysical," Prometheus explained. Seeing the blank look on his sister-in-law's face, he continued. "Think of it this way, those spirits are useless without a human body to bond with. Like a superpower, if you want to think of it that way."
Pandora nodded along. "But why keep it such a secret? I would've liked to know what I was doing when I was getting that jar back."
"Two reasons. Firstly, you never know when someone may be listening. Jupiter is not above resorting to spies, nor are the Gods he works with. And secondly, I have to admit I wanted to see the look on your face when that damned jar turned out to be our secret weapon," Prometheus cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly at the mention of the second point. "My apologies, I should have probably kept you more in the loop."
Whether Pandora chose to ignore the comment or just thought better than to address it, he did not know. "So these spirits in the jar, what are they exactly? I heard once that it was Hope still in there, but something feels different about the way you gave him."
"Different cultures have had different names for it. The Romans thought of them as the Virtues, the Greeks called them Daemones…but an even older group of humans came to call them Aeons, spirits of the universe that represent things we may never know or feel for ourselves. The Romans thought by embodying these Virtues, one could change the world. I suppose they weren't too far off in that regard."
"So which one did you give to Charles?" Pandora asked, looking down. She tried squinting, trying to do whatever she could to notice anything different or off about the human to her, but came up short in her assessment. He really did just look like an average human, save for the massive sword he carried as if it were made of paper-mache.
"Pistis, the spirit of Faith. A perfect partner for someone as duty-bound and honorable as the Great Executioner of France. So long as he maintains that sense of faith and duty, his body will be at the peak of its strength, paired with all the knowledge he accumulated through his years on Earth. You see, he worked as the executioner of France for some 40 years or so, and only quit when his body was shutting down on him. Like this, he is the perfect weapon against the gods: a man trained in the most brutal and effective manners of killing, with a body stronger than anyone in his time!" Prometheus said, a smile coming across his face as he explained to Pandora.
She shuddered, not liking the expression on her brother's face or the small amount of glee he seemed to be taking. Did he really just call this human a weapon? No, she must have misheard him, she decided.
"But still, for him to go against someone like Nemesis. They used to say even Lord Jupiter was scared of her. I'm a little worried for Charles," Pandora admitted.
"Patience, dear sister. You just have to have a little faith."
"The amount of pleasure you seem to take in your job is reprehensible…but I'm going to give you the same offer you so graciously gave me. Lay down your arms, and I'll grant you a clean death," Charles-Henri offered.
Nemesis seethed. "Wretched little human, who are you to make offers or demands of the Gods? That proud tongue of yours will be ripped from your head!"
Nemesis lunged and Charles-Henri charged in, each closing the distance as they prepared for another clash. This time, Nemesis did not make any gesture for her whip, seemingly charging with the intent of going at her opponent with her bare hands. Charles-Henri brought the sword up, going for a two-handed slash that would surely bisect his opponent. But as he brought the sword down, Nemesis did not dodge or block, and instead took the hit. In the time it took him to blink, Charles-Henri felt an unbearable chill come over him, and felt his sword cutting through the air.
Nemesis was gone, no longer standing in front of him as his attack found no purchase. For a split second, he wondered where she could have gone, but then the sound of her whip cracking through the air filled his ears, and he felt a burning pain coursing through his torso. Somehow her whip had slashed deep into his back, knocking him off balance. He turned to find Nemesis, her bloodied whip still in hand, standing behind him.
"How?" he mustered through the pain, but she offered no explanation. Instead, a voice called out from above.
"And here we have it, the thing that made Nemesis so deadly! Erinys, the ability to become like a living shadow and travel as she pleases! They say that this was the power she used to become the most feared assassin in all of Olympus!" Helios called out.
Nemesis scowled, looking up at him incredulously. "Helios! Whose side do you think you're on, running your mouth about things like that?"
Helios shrank down a little in his chariot, thinking better than to argue with the Goddess of Retribution.
"No need to be so rude, I'd have figured out how you did what you did eventually anyway. You Gods have some real odd abilities. It'll make killing you a little bothersome," Charles-Henri said, righting himself as he tried to keep his mind off the pain and the feeling of blood running down his back.
"Having second thoughts about that offer I made, human?" Nemesis asked, toying with the whip in her hands. "Your little trick caught me off guard, but now that I know to take you a little seriously, you won't be able to lay a finger on me again."
"I said bothersome, not impossible. With this sword, I'll take your head and present it to the people of Earth, just like I've done with every other killer and criminal I've faced," Charles-Henri said boldly. Despite this, now that distance between them had been closed and they had traded blows a few times, Nemesis could have sworn she saw a certain sadness in the Frenchman's eyes as he said these words.
Not caring for this sudden pang of sympathy, Nemesis went for a repeat of the previous action, charging in. This time, Charles-Henri opted not to charge in, standing his ground and bringing his sword up for a repeat of his Catherine's Wheel attack, releasing the wind up and twirling into a spinning attack just when he thought she was about to make contact with him. But this time he kept his eyes open, and could see the sword phase through her body as if it were passing through the air, her body distorted slightly like a black smog as she moved.
He stopped spinning, keeping an eye on her as her shadowy form suddenly began to back away from him. Confused for a split second, he saw the shadow twitch and start to solidify back into her actual body, just in time for him to see something coming at his face at blinding speed. Charles-Henri flinched and stepped back just in time as Adraestia slashed across his face. Had he not stepped away at the last second, he'd have surely lost an eye to the whip. Instead, a bloody slash now ran vertically down the right side of his face.
"Monsieur Sanson, are you okay? Can you still see?" Pistis called out in a panic.
"I'm fine, in fact…I think I might have figured out just how this Goddess's little trick works," he said through the pain. He reached up with one gloved hand, wiping the blood from his face. It stung, but he could still see, thankfully. He tightened his grip on the executioner's blade in his hands, smirking through it all. "It'll be risky, but this next blow will be going straight for her neck."
"Finally, I see a bit of the real you. A killer, proud and playing at being some hero of justice all because you got to go after other criminals," Nemesis said. "In a man's dying moments, you always see what they really are. Someone who enjoys killing, a rabid dog that needs to be put down."
"You're wrong on so many accounts, madame," Charles-Henri shook his head. "I won't pretend like I'm any sort of hero. The only thing that makes me different from the people I sent to the gallows is that I had the backing of the country I served. And more importantly, there's nothing I hate more in this world than killing. I never wanted any of this, but I must see my duty through. That's what it means to be an executioner, joy doesn't factor into it."
People from the audience seemed to hear this, his words resonating with them. The humans unfamiliar with him before this match watched on in silent admiration, while the people of France that had long ago seen him carry out his duties began to call out to him in support. Nemesis gritted her teeth, seething at the sound of his support.
"Enough! I'm sick of hearing your rambling and your excuses! An executioner is someone who snuffs out evil, punishes the proud! You're just some boy playing at it! You don't have the stomach for this, because you don't know what it means to really suffer! I was going to give you a quick death, but now…I think it's time you were made to pay for those three thousand lives you took, kingslayer."
Charles-Henri's face tightened, and for a second even Nemesis could have sworn a sense of killing intent came from him. Pistis could only look on silently from his place as a spirit, as Charles-Henri lifted up the sword with a single hand, pointing it at Nemesis. No words came out, only a silent challenge beckoning her forward.
Nemesis lashed out with her whip, bringing it with a wide swing that lashed out at Charles-Henri. He was prepared for it, expecting the whip to separate and slash at him as it had before. He began to move in, hoping to close the distance, but from the corner of his eye he noticed something. The whip split apart, but this time as it reached him, the cords did not slash or strike, rather than wrapped around his right leg, digging into the flesh and restricting the flow of blood. "Adraestia: Bridle of Glaucus."
Charles-Henri stumbled, feeling himself pulled into the air and slung to the side, sending him reeling. Too caught off-guard, his back slammed into the side of the arena, stone cracking under its weight and the recent wound on his back aching even more.
"This is your problem. You lack conviction, morals, any sense of humility. This hubris is exactly why Lord Jupiter decreed that humanity be wiped out," Nemesis lectured. "Stand down and die with dignity, human!"
Charles-Henri struggled to get back on his feet, leaning against his sword to help him up. Were it not for Pistis reinforcing his body, he knew that the blow he had just suffered would have surely broken his back and immobilized him. Pain wracked through his entire being, wounds from earlier in the fight aggravated from the sudden whiplash he was feeling.
"Even in death, I have to say I find his attitude distasteful."
These words were spoken by one of the human souls spectating, a tall and lanky fellow in a brown suit and powdered wig, arms crossed and a dissatisfied look upon his face.
"How rude can you be, Maximilien? He's fighting to save the people, and here you are still aching about how he took your head. He executed me too and you don't see me moaning about it," grumbled his companion. This human was a shorter, wider fellow in a black suit, with short and choppy black hair. "You know what they called him after our deaths?"
"The Great Sanson," said the first man, Maximilien Robespierre. "And here he is, cowering and complaining about having to kill. Such a pitiful sight, seeing the true symbol of the Revolution reduced to bemoaning his station in life, eh Danton?"
A girlish giggle cut through their conversation, drawing their attention to a girl in peasant attire, though her outfit was soaked in dried bloodstains. The bloody girl looked at them both, smiling sweetly. Robespierre felt as though ice were running through his veins at the sight of her, remembering what she had done to one of his companions in their lives on Earth.
"Apologies, monsieurs, for eavesdropping, but I couldn't bear to hear anymore of that. His distaste for killing is the exact reason why I think the people love him so much. Killing should be a last resort, no? Even in the name of justice," said the assassin Charlotte Corday. "This little Goddess may enjoy it a little too much, but our Sanson is a real hero. The Avenger of the People, I heard some of the others calling him."
Georges Danton smirked from his spot beside Robespierre, enjoying the other man's squirming a bit too much. "He may be a little soft-hearted for it, but make no mistake. In all of our history, this boy is an unmatched symbol for justice itself! Even if he hates it or his body gives out on him, he'll see to it that justice is carried out! Even if he was the one who killed us, we have to show him and the French People that their faith in him will be rewarded!"
As Danton spoke, Charles-Henri steadied himself completely, rising to his feet now that he was free of the bridle. Cheers and cries of support called out to him, but as usual Charles-Henri chose to ignore the sound of the audience, his focus set solely upon the Goddess standing before him.