Chapter 17

Three days before our departure.

By now, there wasn’t a single person in Domrémy who didn’t know our group was leaving.

The original plan had been to take twenty people, but during the preparations, that number had been reduced to fifteen. Realistically, having too many people would create all kinds of problems.

I left my workshop in my father’s care, along with the craftsman who had come from Neufchâteau. I told them they were free to use it to make whatever they needed. It was better for the workshop to serve some purpose than to sit empty without its owner.

“Do we really have to stop by Vaucouleurs? You already got a letter of recommendation for the Dauphin, didn’t you? Can’t we just go straight to Chinon?”

“So what if we have the letter? We still have to meet him to deliver it. Going straight from here to Chinon would be suicide. Unless we get a safe-conduct pass from someone with authority, we’ll be killed passing through the enemy territory along the way.”

Exchanging letters required proper authority. If a commoner wanted to deliver something, they had no choice but to do it in person.

“So if we can’t get the safe-conduct pass, it’s all over?”

“That’s right. But don’t overthink it. I’ll make sure they have no choice but to issue one.”

And if we still couldn’t get it…

I’d abandon the Dauphin.

“…What are you planning? Whenever you hide something, it freaks me out.”

“Coming from the guy who runs around the battlefield with Pierre? That’s even scarier, you idiot.”

“That’s because Pierre keeps trying to get himself killed, so I have to watch his back. You, on the other hand, are genuinely terrifying. Is it really possible that even I, after growing up with you, still can’t understand how your mind works? What are you hiding?!”

“Just because we’re family doesn’t mean we can know everything that’s in each other’s hearts.”

I brushed aside my younger brother’s question, then casually asked, as if the thought had only just occurred to me,

“Still haven’t found Agathe?”

“…There are rumors that someone spotted her at the training grounds, but even those stories are spreading like ghost tales. I have no idea how she’s pulling it off.”

“She was always strangely good at hide-and-seek when she was little. …You don’t think she’s planning to stay hidden until we leave, do you? I’d rather not set off without seeing her face.”

“I can guarantee that’s not what she’s trying to do. If she were capable of that kind of clever planning, she wouldn’t have run away in the first place.”

“You’re still bickering with Agathe at your age?”

“…Why are you blaming me because she’s acting up? She’s the one who spoiled her by always protecting her.”

I resisted the urge to punch Coat.

“We still have to get the Thunder Falcon back. At the very least, I want to see her before the tournament tomorrow.”

“She’ll figure things out on her own. Let’s focus on getting ready for the tournament.”

The tournament would determine the Thunder Falcon marksmen who would accompany us on the journey.

With the honor of victory as the prize, we’d be able to identify the very best candidates.

Plenty of people were willing to stake their lives on honor, so there would be no shortage of talented competitors.

***

Chinon Castle.

“Your Majesty, Arthur de Richemont has sent another letter.”

“And what does it say?”

“He says he still hasn’t received the pension he was supposed to be paid after the Siege of Montargis, and asks that it be sent now.”

“For God’s…. Does that man have no shame? He’s still bringing up Montargis after all this time? Throw away every letter he sends from now on.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Dauphin bit at his fingernails irritably.

Useless. Every last one of them…

Lately, the stress had been wearing on him.

As the Armagnac faction continued to lose ground, fewer and fewer nobles answered his calls for support.

The situation within his own camp was no healthier. Richemont, the mad Constable in charge of the cavalry, had butchered the retainers most favored by the Dauphin in his pursuit of greater power.

He wanted to drive the shameless bastard out immediately, but with their position so precarious, he couldn’t afford to cast aside even a cat’s paw.

Those men call themselves my retainers… If I could, I’d burn every last one of them alive.

The Dauphin’s fury was directed at both his own followers and the enemy alike.

The people he hated most were the rulers of Burgundy and England, who branded him a usurper.

He fed on that humiliation and swore revenge. The relentless stress had already caused his hair to begin falling out at the age of twenty-five, but that was nothing a hat couldn’t hide.

His anger and hatred had accumulated beyond measure. No matter how desperate his circumstances became, his desire for revenge never faded.

“I am the rightful King of France. And yet there are fools proclaiming that a mere seven-year-old brat is the legitimate heir!

That thing my whore of a sister gave birth to is nothing more than a puppet for greedy nobles. He possesses none of the dignity befitting a king!”

“Your Majesty speaks the truth.”

“I alone have the rightful claim. My sister has already forgotten the late Henry and found herself another man, yet there are still idiots insisting that a seven-year-old whelp is the legitimate king. Their brains must have rotted away.”

“They’ve completely lost their minds.”

The fuming Dauphin couldn’t stand the sight of his flattering chamberlain anymore.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

How could a man who was called “Your Majesty” only within his own domain possibly claim to be the true King of France?

Grinding his teeth, the Dauphin prayed.

That he would become the rightful king.

My Lord God, I am Your faithful servant. Holy France stands in peril. I know this is a trial You have set before me. But in the end, the crown belongs to the one most worthy of bearing it. It is not too late. If You aid me now, I will never betray You for as long as I live.

When he finished praying, the Dauphin returned to reading theological chronicles concerning the royal succession.

He was a man fascinated by political prophecy. He had even gone so far as to patronize a hermit who claimed to have foretold the death of Henry V.

From an early age, the Dauphin had immersed himself in theological accounts of royal succession. He believed that a mythic destiny, like that of King Arthur, awaited him.

Alone, he studied astrology and legendary chronicles, imagining the ceremony by which he would inherit the throne.

Everyone bowing before him.

The insolent having their heads struck off.

Absolute authority bestowed by God’s blessing.

“Destiny belongs to me. France is mine.”

***

Before the tournament began, I had arranged with the merchants to hold a small festival.

A stage had been set up for musicians to perform, and there was an open space where everyone could dance together.

The music marked the heart of the festival. Once the tournament began, the performers would stop playing to announce its start.

The festival served as bait to draw a crowd.

At the same time, it offered comfort to those saddened by the departure of their neighbors.

For one last time, I took in the faces of everyone around me. In the brief conversations they shared lingered the everyday life of Domrémy.

“Maxime! I came too!”

Jeanne’s older sister Catherine waved at me.

She had married the son of the mayor of Greux, the village directly adjoining Domrémy and for all practical purposes merged with it.

“Where’s your husband?”

“It’s a festival. We split up for a bit so he could catch up with some friends.”

“So, what do you think of it? Anything lacking? Anything you’d change?”

“Not at all. There’s free food, live music. I’m having a wonderful time.”

“I was worried it might be too small, so I’m glad everyone’s enjoying it.”

“You’re worrying too much. Who wouldn’t enjoy a festival you organized?”

Just as the impact of wise words depends on who says them, people’s enjoyment of a festival was shaped by how much they liked its host.

“How have you been lately? I heard you and Jeannette stopped by my parents’ house the other day.”

“We went to talk to them.”

“Did you know? Jeannette’s usually so quiet and reserved, but whenever she’s with you, she somehow becomes much more talkative.”

“I know.”

“…So you really do know. You’ve just been pretending not to.”

“I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“You’re so sly. You turned me down too. Honestly, you’ve gotten awfully full of yourself!”

To steer the conversation away from dangerous territory, I shifted my gaze to Catherine’s slightly rounded belly.

“How are you feeling? Still have an appetite?”

“I can’t eat small portions like I used to. It’s embarrassing, but I’ve been eating just about everything I can get my hands on.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about that. You’re not the one eating. The baby’s eating.

And before I leave, let me tell you this. Make sure the midwife washes her hands with wood ash before she helps with the delivery. I’ve trained a few of them, but some still refuse because they think it’s a needless hassle. If you run into one like that, don’t let her into the room.”

“…I don’t know why, but all right. No one’s ever regretted listening to your advice.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Catherine, I went my separate way.

The festival grounds were still full of life.

***

“Thank you all for waiting! At long last, it’s time to begin the inaugural Grand Archery Tournament!”

For safety reasons, the spectators’ area had been positioned behind the competitors.

There were no fences to stop stray arrows, yet no one voiced any concern about safety. If anything, they were disappointed they couldn’t watch from right beside the archers.

“You really are obsessed with safety, brother. Sometimes you take it too far.”

“……”

The violence of the medieval era wasn’t something to underestimate. Even if someone were crippled by a stray arrow, people would still call it a wonderful festival.

“So, who’s going to win?”

“The championship belongs to my son, Tatabot!”

“No chance. My cousin’s nickname is the Assassin in the Dark. He’s the one who’s destined to win.”

The tournament format had its origins in the knights’ jousts.

By matching competitors one-on-one, the excitement could build all the way to the final.

Naturally, repeated head-to-head matches made the tournament last much longer.

To solve that problem, each match would be decided by a single round of shooting.

It also worked in the tournament’s favor that the more a contestant won, the more matches they had to shoot. The whole point of the competition was to find the most capable marksmen, and it gave us a natural way to evaluate their stamina as well.

The strongest favorite was Leo, the top scorer among the trainees. His exceptional eyesight allowed him to hit targets accurately even at long distances.

“Leo wins again!”

The middle-aged man serving as announcer handled the event well enough. In the Middle Ages, sporting contests were among the greatest forms of entertainment.

“Leoooo!!”

After another impressive performance, Leo was greeted by enthusiastic cheers from the young women in the crowd.

A sports star had been born.

At last, it was time for the championship match.

By sheer coincidence, his opponent was the second-ranked marksman from the same training program.

“Leo, this time I’m going to beat you.”

“Let’s give them a good match.”

The two shook hands like protagonists in a shounen manga. The spectators had already become their fans and were chanting both of their names.

The tournament, originally held to recruit talented people, had drawn an overwhelming response. It was a welcome surprise.

The championship match began. Each contestant fired three arrows.

With the title on the line, the crowd was so absorbed that they erupted in cheers every time an arrow was released.

Then the winner was decided.

“Martin’s arrows score 7, 10, and 4. Leo’s arrows score 8, 9, and 9.

With a final score of 26 to 21, Leo claims the championship!”

“””Waaaaaaah!”””

Just as the crowd was cheering—

Whoosh.

An arrow sliced through the air overhead.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

10 points, 10 points, 9 points.

“””Waaaaaa… Huh?”””

Who was that?!

I hurried to locate the source of the arrows. Every shot had struck the target, but the precision was so chilling that, for a moment, I thought it was an assassination attempt.

Fortunately, the shooter’s identity was revealed almost immediately.

“I fired them.”

Agathe Blanche said. She stood on the rooftop, aiming the Thunder Falcon.

The distance to the target was roughly twice as far as where Leo had been shooting. Hitting the target from that range was astonishing.

There was something wrong with Agathe’s fingers. At some point while no one was watching, she must have mishandled the Thunder Falcon, leaving the skin on her hand torn open. Even with a hand that had not fully healed, she displayed extraordinary accuracy.

“See? I’m useful too.”

True to the Blanche family, she had trained with relentless determination until her talent finally blossomed.

“Agathe… I found you… Is this for real?”

Even Coat stood there in disbelief.

“.…..”

I had no choice but to acknowledge her.

***

We arrived in Vaucouleurs, in northeastern France.