Chapter 8

The medieval Church wielded absolute power.

Such immense power inevitably bred corruption.

Bishops and cardinals amassed enormous wealth through tithes and the sale of indulgences, while simony allowed noble families to purchase religious titles for their young children.

The clergy of the Middle Ages were not paragons of justice.

For a time, as many as one in four people charged with sexual crimes in England were members of the clergy.

A saying openly circulated:

“If you want your son to grow up to be a bad man, make him a clergyman.”

Power also tore the Church apart.

In an age when countless men coveted the immense authority of the papacy, the frenzy became so great that three different popes emerged at the same time.

Each one claimed to be the one true pope from a different seat of power, and this absurd spectacle reduced the authority of the papacy to nothing.

Finally, in 1417, all three popes were deposed, and Martin V was elected as the sole pope.

The newly elected pope longed to bring an end to this age of chaos.

He believed that only a pope with strong authority could bring the current turmoil to an end. As a result, he became obsessed with strengthening the authority of the Papacy.

“The wounds left by the Great Schism have yet to heal. Why do you continue to twist my intentions? Do you not understand that only by restoring the authority of the pope can the Papacy regain its rightful standing?”

“We agree that the Papal States must be rebuilt. We also recognize the need for architects.

But inviting artists and holding an exhibition… isn’t that far too worldly? Have you forgotten that it hasn’t been long since the Crusades ended in defeat?”

The pope’s anger flared at the continued opposition.

“The Papal States already lie in ruins! Do you truly believe that restoring a place where wild beasts once roamed to its former appearance will somehow bring back its former glory? The exhibition is necessary if we are to restore that glory!”

Unable to contain his frustration, Martin V slammed his fist onto the table.

“What we need is not reconstruction, but renewal! Only by creating a splendor that surpasses the past can we restore the faithful’s faith!”

“But…”

“Enough! I will hear no more!”

The enraged pope stormed out of the chamber.

Left behind in the sudden absence of their leader, the cardinals let out weary sighs.

“He was always stubborn, but ever since becoming pope, he no longer listens to anyone.”

“If the authority of the papacy has already fallen so low, what good can come from displaying something so worldly…?”

“His Holiness has been at odds with the council. I suppose he’s become desperate.”

“…For now, let’s do as His Holiness says. Craftsmen will be needed to rebuild the Papal States regardless, won’t they? We can oppose the exhibition again later.”

“Do we know of any capable craftsmen? Preferably someone of genuine faith.”

“The banker from Florence is said to be gathering craftsmen. The Medici, I believe. Why not contact him? It’s close by, and he seems like the quickest way to recruit the people we need.”

As the cardinals each proposed their own solutions,

Someone conceived of a scheme.

“What about that sculptor who’s recently made a name for himself? Rumor has it he’s even been blessed by God.”

“Blessed by God? Blasphemous.”

“They say that anyone who looks upon one of his sculptures, even the coldest-blooded murderer, cannot hold back their tears.

They also claim he’s a superhuman who can work for an entire month without tiring and a blacksmith capable of forging weapons to hunt demons… And on top of that, he’s supposedly still very young. Nothing but unbelievable rumors.”

“Why bring up a story you don’t even believe yourself? Are you suggesting we subject him to an inquisition for heresy?”

“Haha… Even if only half those rumors are true, he’d be a tremendous asset to the reconstruction of the Vatican.”

The man remained unfazed by the skeptical reactions.

“He lives in Domrémy, in the Duchy of Lorraine.”

A faint, knowing smile crossed the man’s face.

“…Isn’t Domrémy famous as a village of warriors?”

“They say every soldier who has entered the village has been driven back, and even the local lord dares not approach it lightly…”

“Exactly. If it’s truly that dangerous, we’ll need someone exceptional. Let’s send Archbishop Jacques Gélu. He studied at the University of Paris and is renowned for his skill in negotiation.”

Jacques Gélu had been a member of the Council of Constance, which stood in opposition to the papal faction.

Though personally a quiet and unassuming man, that made him all the easier to sideline politically without provoking much backlash.

Under the pretext of carrying out the pope’s orders, the schemer intended to safely keep the council’s faction in check.

“… Cardinal, you have a remarkable foresight.”

The outrageous proposal to send an archbishop into a dangerous region passed unanimously.

***

It was a bright, beautiful day, with birds chirping overhead.

The sky above Domrémy was especially clear that morning.

A young girl lay prostrate on the ground. Her expression was unusually solemn for such a beautiful day.

Angel… I don’t know if I’m capable of such a task. Surely someone else would be better suited…

“Jeannette!”

Agathe came running over, calling out to Jeanne. Still lying on the ground, Jeanne turned the banner toward her.

“I told you to call me Jeanne from now on.”

“Hehe, sorry. Finished praying?”

“Mhmm.”

Jeanne d’Arc pushed herself upright. Agathe’s eyes immediately narrowed as she looked her over.

“I don’t get it. You barely eat every day, so how is it that only those keep getting bigger?”

“…If you want to become my squire, you’d better watch your mouth.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be nice. Does all your faith in the Lord gather right there instead?”

Jeanne gently stepped on Agathe’s foot as a silent signal for her to stop.

“Ow, that’s so mean. I was only joking.”

“Where’s Maxime?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably cutting back on sleep to keep working again. People say it’s because he’s received divine revelation, but if you ask me, he’s just become boring. He used to spend a lot more time with us.”

Crunch.

“Aah! M-My foot…!”

“Don’t speak badly about big brother. I won’t forgive you, even if it’s you.”

Agathe rolled on the ground twice.

Ignoring her own dirty clothes, she got to her feet despite her aching foot, took out a clean cloth, and brushed the dirt from Jeanne’s clothes instead.

“Your clothes always get dirty after you pray. I figured this would happen, so I brought a towel. Well? Don’t you want to make me your squire already?”

“…The battlefield is never peaceful.”

“But you fight too. It’s unfair that I’m the only one you’re not letting go. …If it’s because I can’t fight, then at least let me help you in some other way.”

Agathe wasn’t a childish girl. Ever since the village had fallen on hard times, she’d started joking around more often.

Jeanne knew why she always teased the people around her.

“…I understand how you feel, Agathe. I’ll ask Maxime about it.”

“There you go again, bringing up Maxime every time we talk. Do you think about him even when you’re praying?”

“Th-That’s not…”

Agathe grinned mischievously. Her big sister’s reactions were so innocent that teasing her was irresistible.

She reached out and poked Jeanne’s cheek with a finger.

“So what is it about him that you like so much?”

“……”

“Oh! You’re blushing. Heehee… Aaah! You were about to step on my foot again! My feet aren’t stepping stones!”

“……”

“I wonder if he even knows you’re this devoted to him. Maybe I’ll casually ask him someday.”

“Don’t.”

The seriousness in Jeanne’s voice made Agathe immediately stop teasing.

“He doesn’t see me as a woman.”

“Huh?”

“If he starts feeling pressured… he might begin avoiding me. I don’t want that.”

Jeanne remembered how Maxime would always flee whenever the topic of marriage came up.

***

Maxime built a new house on the site where the old one had burned down.

His home was less a place to live than a space devoted entirely to his work. The precisely arranged workbenches reflected the obsessive dedication that drove him.

Maxime had become the center of Domrémy.

Young and old alike, the villagers were convinced that he had received some kind of divine revelation.

Although Maxime had done his best to keep people from talking, the rumors only grew more exaggerated with each retelling.

Once enough time passes, things will quiet down again.

Maxime already had more than enough on his mind just trying to protect Domrémy. He had no time to worry about rumors as well.

Still, at least the village’s finances have improved thanks to the recent mercenary contracts.

Now that they had some breathing room, he planned to equip the villagers with a new weapon.

If he had his way, he would have developed firearms, but unfortunately, the necessary materials were too difficult to obtain.

Black powder requires three main ingredients:

Nitrates, charcoal, and sulfur. Mix them in the proper proportions, and the result is an explosive powder.

Sulfur occurs naturally in volcanic regions, making it difficult to acquire in Lorraine’s flat countryside.

Nitrates and charcoal, on the other hand, could be produced locally. He had managed to manufacture both with some success, but the quantities were still disappointing.

In truth, sulfur wasn’t absolutely necessary to produce an explosion.

A mixture of nitrates and charcoal alone could still ignite. The problem was that the ignition point became extremely difficult to control, resulting in an unacceptably high rate of misfires.

I vaguely remembered hearing that oxidized iron could substitute for sulfur, so I gathered up as much rusted iron as I could. Unfortunately, it didn’t work as I’d hoped.

The rusted iron produced explosions readily enough. The problem was that they couldn’t be controlled, making it completely useless as a weapon.

Having already lost his first life to an explosion, Maxime had developed a deep hatred of unsafe explosives.

I’ll put firearms on hold for now. But the moment I get the opportunity, I’m making them.

Maxime was obsessed with gunpowder. He was just that confident in his ability to work with it.

As long as it was safe, he didn’t mind if its explosive power was modest. There were countless ways to put gunpowder to use.

To Maxime, gunpowder was like a painter’s canvas.

Just as an ordinary person couldn’t paint the Mona Lisa with the exact same paints Leonardo da Vinci used,

Maxime could paint the Mona Lisa with gunpowder.

It’s a shame, but even without gunpowder, I should keep developing new weapons.

What was the ideal weapon he could make with the resources currently available?

A weapon that lets the villagers win from a safe distance.

A crossbow. It’s easy for even an untrained peasant to learn. I’ll improve upon the ones we’ve already issued, make them more user-friendly, and standardize the parts so they’re easy to replace.

The last time that frail farmer had ended up in close combat against a heavily built knight, his heart had nearly stopped. If Pierre hadn’t already come of age, the man would certainly have died.

The easier a weapon is to use, the harder it is to make.

It was a decision that demanded considerable resolve.

“Coat, are you still asleep?”

“…Don’t tell me you’ve thought of something else to build.”

The bleary-eyed Coat slowly pushed himself up from the workshop floor.

“I’m going to build a crossbow. The goal is to assemble it to precise specifications so that any damaged parts can simply be replaced.”

“…My head already hurts just hearing that.”

“And it needs to maintain a high degree of accuracy at distances of at least 80 toises (roughly 150 meters).”

“Isn’t that setting the bar a little too high?”

“It has to be if we’re going to stand against England’s longbowmen.”

“As if we’d ever run into soldiers that elite… Haah. Fine.”

England’s longbowmen were among the finest archers in the world. They were monsters who could effortlessly draw bows with a draw weight of nearly 70 kg.

For comparison, a modern Olympic recurve bow typically has a draw weight of around 20 kilograms.

For an untrained crossbowman to defeat a seasoned longbowman, they would need a weapon far ahead of its time.

“I honestly have no idea how far ahead you’re planning. Aren’t you thinking way too far into the future all by yourself?”

“If it gets to be too much, tell me. I know you’ve been pushing yourself. I’ll finish the new weapon on my own if I have to.”

“…If I don’t help you, who will? So, where do we start?”

Maxime couldn’t help but feel guilty watching Coat work himself so hard.

“Thanks. I really mean it.”

“Forget it. You’re the one carrying the heaviest burden.”