The Sanson estate was as quiet as ever. There was never any conversation at the table, no passing of dishes, no footsteps or laughter of children in the hallways - only the massive clock in the dining room ticked away like a gravedigger's hammer. Jean-Baptiste Sanson was not just a perfect executioner, but also a very strict father. Today was no exception. The dining room was deathly quiet when one of the younger children dropped their fork. It took a few seconds for the child to pick it up, but they still met the cold, irritated gaze of their father as he put down his knife.