Louis-Cyr-Charlemagne Sanson wandered around almost uselessly. He was the fourth son of an executioner. He himself was the executioner of Provence. His bangs were cut high and he had almost no eyebrows. His nose seemed quite large compared to the rest of his face. And his right hand was iron. He didn't want to remember it. Louis-Cyr-Charlemagne stood behind the scaffold on the Place de Greve, watching his older brother – Eh.. - he sighed quietly. He did not envy