Chapter 10

Maxime thought to himself.

If things continue like this, France will be destroyed by war.

But he had no intention of sending Jeanne to become a sacrificial pawn.

In the original history, Jeanne’s loyalty to the Dauphin ended with her being cast aside once she was no longer useful.

The Dauphin was the kind of man who would discard even his most loyal followers.

Then should he support the young King Henry VI instead? Given the sentiments of the French people, that would undoubtedly provoke fierce opposition.

Another civil war would break out.

The French supported the Dauphin not because he was the rightful heir, but largely because they hated England.

Then what option is left?

After much deliberation, Maxime realized the heart of the problem.

If you rely on those in power, you’re bound to be controlled by them no matter what choice you make.

The key wasn’t choosing which side to support.

No matter what path he chose, what mattered was holding the initiative.

A major reason Jeanne failed was that she depended entirely on the support of the nobility.

Because she relied on the goodwill of the ruling class, it was all over the moment they abandoned her, no matter how overwhelmingly the people supported her.

Power comes from strength. Even noble blood is only a secondary concern.

No matter how prestigious your lineage, without strength, even a noble house can fall.

On the other hand, if someone possesses overwhelming strength, that alone becomes a form of power.

Maxime imagined it.

A saint who commands the strongest army in existence, one that no one could stand against.

With the support of the people behind her as well, who would dare lay a hand on her?

***

Coat returned.

“Welcome back, little brother.”

“…Is this what Charon feels like after ferrying souls across the River Styx?”

“What a dreadful thing to say in such a cozy workshop.”

“Hades is speaking to me.”

“You must’ve gotten heatstroke.”

I ignored my little brother’s nonsense. The fact that he sounded so serious was probably just the heat getting to him.

“While you were gone, I finished making the mechanism that draws the bowstring.”

“…Already? Guess I was right to run away. So what’s next?”

“Come with me to the hemp field. We’re going to make linen for the bowstring.”

“Do we really need to? We still have some left over from last time.”

“We’re making a denser, stronger bowstring.”

Hemp is a fiber crop. Textiles made from hemp have existed for thousands of years. In the future, it’ll become infamous as a narcotic, but in this era it’s valued for making durable rope and bowstrings.

In the future, Joseon would even layer hemp cloth into bullet-resistant armor capable of standing up to Western muskets.

Growing hemp isn’t difficult. Processing it is where the real work begins.

I gathered several villagers to help.

Once hemp flowers, the stalk loses much of its nutrients. Since I had no use for it as medicine, we removed the flower heads before they bloomed.

We dried the harvested hemp under the sun, bundled the stalks together, then submerged them in the river to soak.

“We’ll have to repeat this process several times.”

“Leave it to us!”

Several days later, the softened hemp was finally ready.

Simply peeling away the outer bark wasn’t enough. Every stalk had to be separated into the finest fibers possible.

To speed up the work, I even built a specialized tool for stripping the fibers.

Even then, the job wasn’t finished. We scraped away everything except the inner bast fibers with a saw.

“Now split those inner fibers four more times.”

“Don’t you think your standards are a little ridiculous?”

“No compromises. The finer the fibers, the stronger and better the bowstring.”

We gathered the tough inner fibers and left them to dry thoroughly in the sun once more.

As they dried naturally, hemp’s characteristic yellow tint gradually faded to a pale white.

Long, slender strands emerged. Twist and weave those strands together over and over, and they become hemp cloth.

For that part, I relied on the women who were skilled with needlework.

Whenever she had a spare moment, Jeanne came by to lend a hand as well.

Three days later, after countless hours of painstaking twisting and weaving, the bowstring was finally complete.

“…Perfect.”

“…I thought I was going to lose my mind. I hate that I’m actually satisfied after seeing the finished product.”

It was nothing more than a single thin cord, yet it possessed remarkable strength.

To anyone who hadn’t witnessed the process, it would have looked completely ordinary.

But everyone who had worked alongside me understood exactly how much effort and craftsmanship had gone into it.

“Isn’t it too much work to make every one like this? We should simplify the process for mass production.”

“No. It has to be made this way. Otherwise, the bowstring will snap.”

“…The bowstring will snap? Our bowstrings have never snapped before, have they?”

“Haha.”

My awkward laugh made Pierre’s expression darken.

“…What’s that supposed to mean? Explain yourself. Now.”

“I’m planning to make a new bow as well.”

I carefully unfolded the blueprint. This time, I had even blocked the back door to make sure he couldn’t run away like last time.

Coat studied the blueprint for about three minutes.

“…Whose twisted idea was this blueprint? And what exactly are you planning to do with the bows we already made?”

“Let go of your attachment. Those are relics of the past.”

“Putting that aside, will a bow shaped like this even work? It looks like it’ll shatter the moment you draw it.”

The bow I showed him was a mechanically designed bow that first appeared in the twentieth century.

The moment it was introduced, it revolutionized hunting, turning traditional hunting bows into little more than recreational equipment.

Rotating mechanisms were mounted on both ends, and when the string was drawn, cables connected to those mechanisms worked like pulleys to multiply the force.

“I spent a long time thinking through this design. Whether the limbs could withstand the tension, whether the arrow could survive the launch without breaking apart halfway…

Since we don’t have materials capable of fully handling the bow’s elasticity, I had to redesign everything from the ground up, keeping only the underlying principles.”

“…The arrow could break apart?”

“That’s right. If I perfect this, the arrows we’ve been using won’t be able to withstand the force of the bow. They’ll snap the instant they’re fired.”

“Wait… don’t tell me you’re planning to redesign the arrows too?”

“You’re catching on, little brother.”

“……I suddenly want to become Zeus.”

“If you want to become a patricidal god, go kill the father who works alone first. As for your big brother, let’s enjoy our labor together.”

“Gaaah!”

My little brother let out a cry of despair.

***

I could understand exactly how he felt. Even from my perspective, remaking every single component just to build a crossbow was absurdly complicated.

If there was any silver lining, it was that once the first working model was complete, mass production would become much simpler.

At that point, the apprentice craftsmen in the village could help with the workload.

The final quality checks will still have to go through me… but even so, having extra hands is better than nothing.

I found myself grateful for the people around me. The village had grown considerably, and the only reason I could keep creating entirely new inventions was because of the craftsmen who supported me.

Most of all, I was grateful to my family. My father had taken full responsibility for everything related to the farm. Even though his workload had increased, he had never once complained about the son who had chosen to strike out on his own.

“What about the arrowhead you mentioned? What if we hollowed it out like this?”

“That’s not a bad idea, but the arrow itself needs weight. The arrowhead can’t be too light.”

“Then what about this? We’re not drawing it with our fingers anymore anyway.”

“This… I like this.”

I had decided the overall direction, but the finer details took shape during the actual process of making it.

We combined different ideas, carved away at the design, and gradually refined the crossbow.

Complicated components. Safety concerns. We solved each problem one by one until we completed a piece of technology the world had never seen before.

I never stopped to think about how history might judge what we had created. I simply immersed myself in the joy of making something new and devoted myself to it with everything I had.

Coat, who had become a master craftsman in his own right after following my lead, proved to be an invaluable partner throughout the process.

***

“I heard Sir Maxime is going to demonstrate a new weapon.”

“Where? Let’s go, now!”

Lorraine’s flat terrain made it the perfect place to demonstrate weapons. People gathered in the clearing left behind after the trees had been cut down.

“Come on, come on! Fresh, delicious fruit for sale!”

“Fresh curds made this morning and oven-fresh Oblaten! Get them while they’re hot!”

“Hot pies! Fresh hot pies!”

Domrémy had long since become connected to Neufchâteau’s trade network.

The merchants seized the opportunity, setting up stalls and selling food along the roadside.

With food vendors joining in, the number of visitors quickly grew.

What had begun as a simple weapons demonstration soon turned into a full-fledged festival.

“Pierre, people could get hurt, so keep the crowd under control. I’ve already marked off the dangerous areas.”

“Leave it to me.”

This wasn’t bad at all.

Since things had turned out this way, I decided to make a few changes to let everyone enjoy themselves.

“We’re holding a talent competition! First prize is a household item I’ve made myself. The winner will be the participant who gets the biggest crowd response.”

With a bit of spare time before the main event, we kicked off the talent show.

There were quite a few participants.

Some people enthusiastically sang songs, while others put on clumsy but surprisingly entertaining circus acts.

A few, blinded by the prize, came forward with nothing but shameless flattery. I promptly sent away anyone whose only talent was buttering me up.

The winner turned out to be someone unexpected.

It was Lady Milena, who had once schemed to become related to me by marriage.

“Cooking counts as a talent too, doesn’t it?”

“…Accepted.”

She handed out homemade food to everyone.

To be honest, it was closer to bribery than talent, but no one complained that she was cheating.

It’s only a household item. Isn’t she taking a loss by giving away all that food?

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and she looked satisfied as well, so I let it slide.

That should be enough people. Time to get to the main event.

I climbed onto one of the stumps left behind after the trees had been felled.

“Everyone, your attention, please.”

I spoke a single sentence.

“Sir Maxime wants everyone to quiet down.”

“Looks like he’s about to do something.”

The noisy crowd began shushing one another. Before long, every eye was fixed on me.

“This demonstration is for the crossbow my younger brother and I created. The weapons we produce will first be issued to those with the best marksmanship.

Its name is Thunder Falcon (faucon foudre). Like a seasoned falcon locking onto its prey, it boasts exceptional accuracy, while its small, heavy bolts strike with the speed and force of a falcon’s talons.

…Now, allow me to demonstrate.”

The target was a massive sack stuffed to the brim.

Playing to the festive atmosphere, I sprinted dramatically to the far side of the range. I ran so far that people began wondering if I had gone beyond effective shooting distance.

Right on cue, murmurs spread through the crowd.

This should do.

I came to a stop.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and settled into position.

I placed a talon (steel bolt) onto the mechanical crossbow and pulled back the cocking lever.

My arms remained perfectly steady as I took aim.

The power of a bow increases with the distance its string is drawn. Thanks to its design, a mechanical bow can be drawn far more easily than a conventional one.

The connected pulleys tightened under tension. The cords running through them strained to snap back with explosive force.

I pulled the trigger.

Thwip!

The bolt crossed the distance in an instant.

…No, that wasn’t quite right. It did more than hit the target… it tore straight through the sack before burying itself deep in the tree stump behind it.

The enormous sack split open with a sharp crack, spilling its contents like entrails.

It was a brutally violent result, utterly at odds with the elegant image usually associated with the bow.

The spectators stared at the aftermath with wide, stunned eyes.

““Wooooooah!!””

Cheers erupted from every direction. Someone had even lost control of their bladder.

Looks like someone couldn’t hold it…

This was the Middle Ages, where people had little that could trigger such a rush of excitement.

The reaction was on an entirely different level, like the first stain marring a blanket of pristine white snow.

Caught up in the excitement myself, I couldn’t resist making a bold declaration.

“I guarantee it. This is a weapon that will change history.”

A thunderous roar answered me.

Even though I still wielded the same hammer, life after my reincarnation was met with overwhelming praise.

The feeling was intoxicating, making me eager to start building the next invention as soon as possible.

Now it’s time to create the “Nest”, the perfect companion to the Thunder Falcon.

As I looked at my younger brother, whose dark circles had completely disappeared after twenty straight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I smacked my lips in anticipation.

***

So this is Domrémy.

Archbishop Jacques Gelu, who had ties to Dauphin Charles, arrived in Domrémy.

He was accompanied by the two deacons who served as his attendants.