Chapter 26

Out of nowhere, Jeanne delivered a new prophecy. The unexpected revelation caught even Maxime off guard.

“There is an ancient sword for me in the chapel of the Church of Sainte-Catherine-de-Fierbois. If Maxime Blanche reforges it, the blade will become a holy sword and lead France to ‘true victory’.”

Word of the new prophecy quickly spread throughout Chinon.

Her support was not yet firmly established, but whatever the case, she was believed to be a possible saintess.

The Dauphin assembled a group of envoys to send to the church. Since it was nearby, he chose men he considered trustworthy. He also summoned their leader separately and secretly gave him an order.

“If you find nothing at the church, get a suitable sword from a nearby smithy and say you dug it out of the ground.”

For all his sensitivity to prophecy, the Dauphin was a thoroughly political man. He had prepared in advance for the possibility that the prophecy might prove false and damage his own prestige for having supported her.

The envoys reached the church the same day they departed. The first thing they did was ask the priest about the sword.

“A sword? Our church doesn’t even have a ceremonial sword. If there were such a thing here, we would have known about it long ago.”

“We’ll start by digging in the chapel. If the prophecy is correct, it should be buried behind the altar where Mass is celebrated.”

“…The chapel is small, so please be careful not to damage anything.”

His concern proved unnecessary.

A rusted sword lay buried beneath the altar. Everyone was astonished, but at the same time, they could not hide their disappointment.

“…This is the holy sword the saintess was talking about?”

“Ahem…”

It was a sword that had been buried underground. The rust was severe. It was bad enough to make them wonder whether the blade could even be reforged.

They dug farther just in case but found no other swords.

“Well… I suppose we should be glad we found one at all.”

The envoys placed the sword in a crimson scabbard.

Word of the sword’s discovery spread quickly. The townspeople could barely contain their excitement at the news that a sword had been found in the church, just as the prophecy had foretold.

The next day, crowds gathered to see the rumored holy sword. Some had even abandoned their work for the day to come see the rare spectacle.

“Is that the holy sword everyone’s talking about?”

“Hmm…”

The greater the expectations, the greater the disappointment. Many were let down by the sight of the shabby, crumbling sword. Still, no one dared voice their disappointment too openly for fear of incurring God’s wrath.

Maxime could understand how they felt. The sword wasn’t merely unsightly. Some of the rust had fused into swollen clumps that looked almost like pus. It was downright revolting.

Maxime realized the situation was serious. If this went badly, all the prestige he had worked so hard to build could come crashing down.

“Give it to me. According to the prophecy, I am the one who must reforge the holy sword.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.”

Everyone had already seen what the sword really looked like. Somehow, he would have to remake it into something impressive enough to make them forget its decrepit appearance.

Maxime took the sword from the envoy.

The moment he grasped it, the clumps of rust crumbled away. Flakes of corrosion fell from the blade, revealing an ordinary sword underneath.

The bizarre phenomenon froze the crowd in place. Everyone watching held their breath.

What the fuck?

Maxime hurriedly composed myself. Pretending he had expected this all along, he calmly examined the sword.

“Oh, Holy Spirit! What a blessing!”

Those who had witnessed the astonishing miracle began praising Maxime.

***

I finally managed to send away the people trailing after me like ducklings. Once they were gone, I took the sword from the prophecy and entered a smithy in Chinon.

“You’re here? Let’s get started.”

Coat had arrived ahead of me and was waiting. He had already laid out the tools in their usual arrangement so we could get straight to work.

I appreciated it, but I wouldn’t need his help today.

“I’m going to make this one myself.”

“All right. I’ll just watch, then.”

He shrugged and stepped aside. He didn’t seem particularly bothered by it.

As I gripped the sword, the strange phenomenon I had just witnessed lingered in my mind.

Probably just a coincidence, right?

The temperature in the smithy rose.

Once I began reforging the sword, the lingering thoughts quickly faded from my mind.

Nothing particularly unusual about it. So it really was just an incredible coincidence? …Can something like that even happen by coincidence?

The sword from the prophecy was neither exceptionally strong nor particularly well designed.

I decided to chalk it up to rust that had already been on the verge of falling off, with the timing just happening to line up perfectly with the moment I grabbed the sword.

I had gotten lucky. Jeanne’s prophecy had come true, and I had left a powerful impression on everyone watching. There was no longer any need to make the sword look impressive. I changed my plans and decided to make something useful in actual combat.

I sacrificed some of the blade’s sharpness in favor of durability and defensive capability.

Jeanne tended to focus on commanding troops on the battlefield, and even when she came face-to-face with the enemy, she preferred subduing them rather than killing them.

I reforged the sword specifically for its wielder. I even adjusted its balance from scratch, taking her smallest habits into account as I refined it. That might sound vague, but getting the details right wasn’t difficult.

After all, I knew all of Jeanne d’Arc’s habits by heart.

I worked the bellows and heated the metal. Every strike of the hammer against the anvil sent red sparks scattering in all directions.

Clang—clang—clang.

There was no need for some profound secret technique. I focused purely on my senses and contemplated the nature of the iron itself.

I repeated the process of heating, hammering, and cooling dozens of times.

Nice.

I quenched the glowing metal. The decrepit lump of iron that had barely managed to retain the shape of a sword was being born anew.

That should do it.

I took out the cooled sword, then brought out the leather for the grip. Thanks to the fine leather I had been provided, the finishing work was quite enjoyable.

The weapon’s future owner was beautiful and wise. My fondness for its wielder gave me even more energy as I worked. I wove the leather into place and concealed the seams, then carefully lifted the finished sword.

A silvery gleam shimmered in the dark smithy. The metal itself was not especially bright, yet somewhere along the way, the quenching had given it an unexpectedly beautiful luster.

A companion that would accompany her on her journey was complete.

***

When word came that the sword was finished, Dauphin Charles announced that he would personally present it to Jeanne d’Arc.

“In the name of the King of France, I recognize you as messengers blessed with revelation from Heaven. Jeanne la Pucelle, Maxime Blanche, I entrust you with two hundred men, including capable knights and soldiers. And that is not all. Our noble patrons have provided another four hundred mercenaries, bringing your total force to six hundred. In the name of God, drive the villains from Orléans.”

The nobles who had so generously promised their support began making all manner of excuses and reducing their contributions once the craze surrounding the sculpture started to fade. Even Maxime had not expected their attitudes to change so quickly.

…Look on the bright side. We went from two hundred men to six hundred. One sculpture tripled the number of armed troops we have.

Objectively speaking, it was still a gain.

But he was only human. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

A farewell banquet was held before the departure ceremony. The families of those heading to the battlefield gathered to share prayers and a meal. Clergymen offered blessings, and some gave their departing lovers tokens of chivalry, such as handkerchiefs.

Despite being called a banquet, it was hardly a joyous celebration. The atmosphere was deeply religious and formal. Especially in this age, many who left for the battlefield never returned. A grim sense that this might be their final farewell hung over the gathering.

“Holy shit… I’ve never seen this much meat in my life!”

The tables were laden with meat, bread, and wine.

Minstrels sang songs of chivalry and God’s blessing.

“If you should fight against the heretic, we beseech you in the name of God. If you endure suffering for the faith of Christ, you shall fight with honor in His grace. For the glory of God and France—”

“Saint Michael is with us. His sword shall pierce our enemies, and his shield shall protect us—”

Amid the grand and splendid music unfolded a farewell that felt almost like a funeral.

“Knights, swear your allegiance.”

Before setting out, the knights were required to renew their oaths to their sovereign. Normally, the ceremony would have taken place before the banquet, but the schedule had been pushed back because of the delay in bringing the holy sword.

“Will you be loyal to king and country?”

“Will you defend the Church and the faith?”

“Will you uphold your honor?”

To each of Dauphin Charles’s questions, the knights answered, “I swear.”

The highlight was the ceremony in which Jeanne d’Arc received the holy sword. Her oath was conducted separately from those of the other knights.

“Saintess who bears witness to my greatness, I name you a knight of my kingdom. Swear that you will defend this kingdom with loyalty and valor, that you will fight with honor and devotion, and that you will not lose courage even in the face of death.”

Jeanne d’Arc placed her hand upon the Bible.

“I swear.”

“Then, to you who have sworn your allegiance, I bestow the sword reforged by the saint.”

Dauphin Charles lowered the sword. The Sword of Sainte-Catherine touched Jeanne d’Arc.

The instant Charles released his hand, a halo of sunlight settled upon the blunt blade.

The onlookers began murmuring at the sudden, mysterious phenomenon.

“…H-Holy light?”

“The Lord has bestowed His light upon the saintess…!”

Some gasped in awe. Many others hurriedly began to pray, tears welling in their eyes.

Light descending from the heavens was considered an auspicious sign. The halo lingered only briefly before vanishing in an instant, but the awe it inspired did not fade so easily.

“O great Heaven…”

The oath ceremony came to an end. People crowded around Jeanne d’Arc. Excited nobles crossed themselves. For a brief moment, even the king was pushed into the background.

Maxime saw it.

For an instant, the Dauphin’s face twisted before returning to normal.

***

“Bring me the Duke of Alençon and Maxime Blanche.”

Dauphin Charles summoned us to a secluded chamber. I was used to private audiences with him by now. Sometimes we met alone, while other times one of his advisors would be present.

This, however, was the first time I had met with him alongside the Duke of Alençon.

“My loyal friend, I hear you’ve grown close to the saint.”

“Ha! Maxime is a remarkable fellow. Why wouldn’t I want to be his friend?”

The Duke of Alençon was almost uncomfortably friendly toward me. We had never even had a particularly deep conversation, so I had no idea why he liked me so much.

“You’ll soon be comrades-in-arms, so there’s certainly no harm in being close.

I called you here because there is something I need to tell you in confidence. You might call it advice on knowing friend from foe.”

“Whatever your counsel may be, I will follow it without hesitation.”

“Richemont of Brittany. If that bastard tries to join you at Orléans, refuse him. Richemont is a son of a bitch who never stops playing both sides between the rightful heir and Burgundy.”

“…If this is a military order, is there a reason you chose not to summon Jeanne?”

“Ah, don’t misunderstand me. The saintess is far too pure. The moment politics enters the conversation, there’s simply no getting through to her. You, on the other hand, were apparently destined to serve as her helper, and you’re considerably easier to reason with.”

That much was true. Jeanne would never turn away an ally who came offering to join them.

“Now that I know God is with me, I have no reason to tolerate that man’s treachery any longer. If the opportunity presents itself… you may kill him.”

The king had ordered him killed by someone else’s hand.