On 15th January, 1793, the second floor of the conference hall was packed with people. Edith squeezed her way among the crowd to witness this historic moment.

One by one, the representatives went up to vote, deciding the fate of the former king Louis Capet.

From the staircase below, Edith caught sight of Andre waiting in line, his countenance with aplomb and his head held high.

A Girondist in front of him called for reprieve for the king, causing a chorus of boos from the surrounding audience.

Andre Quenet strode confidently onto the podium, his hands planted on the table and his body leaning forward.

"I vote for Death," he declared, his tone steady and unwavering.

"...I see the crocodile tears are already stirring your hearts to sympathy. Someone wants to exploit the people''s weakness and kindness to serve his own conspiracy." He began to expound on his reasoning, his voice resonant yet his tone becoming increasingly infused with heartfelt tearful rage, "But think about it, citizens, think about those children in rags with nothing to wear, think about the innocent people who perished in hunger and despair! Are we entitled to condone a tyrant on their behalf? Are we worthy of showing mercy to a criminal who oppressed us?!"

The people around Edith couldn''t help but nod at each other in agreement, "Well said!"

Edith smiled as she watched his tall and straight figure. She led the applause, thunderous clapping ringing throughout the hall.

"That''s all." The young man stepped down from the podium.