Chapter 36

Back in school, I once went to a low-income hillside neighborhood to earn volunteer service credits. There, in that run-down neighborhood, I met an elderly man who collected wastepaper.

The old man was unimpressive in appearance. He was the sort of person I might have instinctively kept my distance from if I had encountered him on the subway. At the time, I had no idea I would form a special connection with someone like him.

It was when I saw the house he lived in that I came to understand what beauty was.

I’m not exaggerating.

He had gathered discarded materials he found on the streets and was using them to create an unusual work of art that filled his cramped room. Looking back, I would have been concerned about the health risks of such an environment, but the sight of him devoting himself to his work stayed with me, and I barely noticed anything else.

He had no family or friends. In circumstances that would have left me crushed by despair, he gathered the pieces the world had thrown away and completed a world of his own. Thanks to him, I learned what craftsmanship meant at a young age.

A craftsman is always battling doubt.

Wood is wood, and stone is stone.

When you’re trying to create something new, it’s difficult to look at the raw material and feel certain you can transform it into what you envision.

Iron is merely metal, and fire is nothing but searing pain. The path of a craftsman is filled with patience and suffering.

To make it through, you need an innate instinct. The instinct of someone who creates something even if it means twisting what already exists, someone who finds joy in doing so.

“Duke of Alençon, what do you think of His Majesty Charles?”

“His Majesty Charles is a descendant of the dynasty that rules France. He is quick-witted and decisive, and he has no shortcomings as a king.”

“Then surely such an excellent man will reward us appropriately for the victory we have achieved.”

“Precisely! Haha, you have every reason to look forward to it.”

The Duke of Alençon regarded the Dauphin Charles favorably. I did not speak of the possibility of betrayal. Talking about things that had yet to happen would only make me look like a subversive. Asking him to trust me completely would be too much as well.

It would also be difficult to sway people with prophecy. After all, the Saintess currently supported the Dauphin. Conflicting prophecies would push one of us toward the precipice of death.

So I had to create a new world. I had to leave the confines of my narrow workbench and become a craftsman who could shape the world itself.

Be patient. I must not waver in the slightest. Just as I did not even blink when Richemont threatened me. A craftsman is not someone who talks, but someone who lets his results speak for themselves. Like the old man who built a world from a pile of trash, I will not stop swinging my hammer simply because the future promises pain.

That is my vow.

The prayer of a man without faith.

***

The Duke of Alençon sent a messenger to Chinon immediately after the fall of the Tourelles fortress.

Before departing for Tours, we held one final meeting with the commanders.

“We have no time to bask in our victory. Now is the time to press our advantage. Let us march on Reims and hold the coronation. Only then will the world know who the true king is.”

“Saintess, the northeast is enemy territory! It is not safe to travel all the way to Reims.”

“Sir Jean Poton is right. The English still hold important strategic positions along the Loire. It would be dangerous to head northeast while leaving them behind.”

Jeanne was a great commander. However, she could be reckless when it came to administration and coordination. She lacked the reasoning needed to persuade others.

“But we must march on Reims to complete our journey.”

“That is why, Saintess, before we do that…”

Her victories always had to be overwhelming. I could simply make up for whatever she lacked.

“Jeanne, Reims is important, but for now, let’s drive the remaining English forces out of Loire.”

“Yes.”

She had been arguing with them, but the moment I made a suggestion, she accepted it without a second’s hesitation.

The knight who had been debating with her for some time looked dumbfounded.

“Still, it would be a shame to dismiss the Saintess’s proposal entirely. We will have to head to Reims eventually, so let us draw up a plan in advance. …Our engineering unit will help secure the essential supply routes. We will devise a way to establish a logistics route along the river.”

“In that case, how about modifying the wagons like you did when we joined up at Orléans?”

“We intend to help with that as well. We can bring in reinforcements and build them while the soldiers rest.”

“…A-Are there any more of those cannons that destroyed the Tourelles fortress?”

“That is classified. I will let you know once the situation has been settled.”

The meeting did not last long. Both sides were taking a break to regroup, so there were no urgent matters to discuss.

“Let’s conclude the meeting. We’ll be heading out to meet His Majesty Charles and request additional supplies.”

“Thank you. If possible, please ask for plenty of dried meat, too!”

I smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

***

Only a small group was traveling to Tours together. The Duke of Alençon, the Saintess, a coachman, and a few attendants were all there was.

They left the troops where they were in case of an enemy attack. Even if no attack came, they still needed training. Instructors from Domrémy were training hundreds of soldiers.

“Select the most talented crossbowmen and issue them Thunder Falcons. And make sure we actively train more Nest Keepers.”

Maxime had begun distributing his weapons little by little. Since Thunder Falcons required precision components and were difficult to manufacture, he was strict about who qualified to receive one.

“…I-I qualified? Thank you, thank you so much… I’ll do my best to repay the trust you’ve placed in me!”

The soldiers who received the weapons reacted passionately. Most burst into tears and sobbed as soon as they received one.

The other soldiers looked on with envy, as though they were watching someone whose life had suddenly changed for the better. Jealousy and admiration followed.

Man, this is a lot of pressure.

It was good that they treasured the equipment they were issued, but hearing a soldier call it his lifeline or a gift from God gave Maxime goosebumps.

“Maxime, it’s time to leave.”

“Right. …I wanted to pet Walter before we left, but I haven’t seen him all morning.”

An attendant nearby approached.

“Walter is your dog, isn’t he, Saint? I’ve heard all sorts of stories about how brilliant he is. Shall I find him for you?”

“That’s all right. I’m sure he’s doing fine on his own. We’re not going far, and I don’t want to trouble anyone just so I can pet him once.”

Maxime climbed into the carriage.

Pierre and Coat are around, too. I’m sure he’ll make sure he gets fed.

Walter was something of a mascot among the soldiers.

He continued to distinguish himself by finding hidden prisoners and discovering supplies in fortresses the English had abandoned.

…The incident that did the most to boost his popularity, however, was when he mated in public outdoors.

The soldiers kept their promise to keep it a secret. The Count of Dunois still knew nothing about the mating incident. Maxime had not trusted them at all, yet they were remarkably good at keeping promises like this.

“Shall we depart?”

The carriage began to move. Despite the uneven road, it traveled smoothly.

“The carriages your engineering unit has worked on are in a class of their own. If the opportunity arises, I would like you to modify one for my use as well.”

“I would be delighted to accept a request from the Duke.”

They reached the well-maintained road along the Loire. The coachman picked up the pace, and Orléans quickly receded into the distance.

“Woof, woof!”

Maxime heard Walter barking in the distance. When he opened the rear door, he saw him running toward them.

With his explosive speed, Walter quickly caught up to the carriage.

“What have you been doing all this time?”

“Woof!”

With an impressive leap, he jumped into the carriage.

“Pant, pant, pant…”

“If you were going to come along, you should’ve come earlier. Now you’ve gone and worn yourself out for nothing.”

Maxime gave Walter a light pat on the rear. The Duke of Alençon was amazed by his performance.

“…What an extraordinary creature. I’ve never seen a dog jump onto a moving carriage without the slightest fear.

After seeing what he did during the fortress searches, I thought he might make a good guard dog. But now I see he would be more than capable of serving as a war dog.”

“I have no intention of sending him onto the battlefield, but I’m sure he would.”

Maxime opened a leather waterskin. Cupping his hand like a bowl, he poured some water into it for Walter.

Slurp, slurp, slurp.

Look at him go. Has he not had anything to drink all morning?

Walter, the coldhearted Frenchman.

Having left only his seed with a noble lady of distinguished lineage,

….he vanished with the wind.

***

News of the victory at Orléans spread quickly through the regions connected by the Loire’s inland transportation routes.

“This is no ordinary victory. God has returned to France.”

“It’s a miracle, an absolute miracle! God has not abandoned us!”

The public had been disheartened by repeated defeats, but now, not only had the sensational figures of a Saint and Saintess appeared, they had also won a victory. The excitement showed no sign of dying down.

And it did not end with mere enthusiasm.

“A Mass to praise the Lord’s miracle will be held soon. Let us pray together for the Saint and Saintess. We hope many of you will attend.”

“Holy water blessed by the Saint for sale! Cleanse your hearts through faith.”

“A stone the Saintess sat on! Just one livre for a handful of gravel!”

“A collection of the Saint’s own words! …Is it authentic? Probably?”

“Portraits of the Saintess for sale! Freshly made portraits, hot off the press!”

Immediately after the relief of Orléans, citizens began offering Masses as though the two had already been canonized. Portraits of the Saint and Saintess were produced by people who had never even seen their faces.

Merchants saw how enamored people were with the saints and began producing all sorts of unauthorized merchandise to meet the demand. The goods sold like hotcakes, and the merchants’ pockets grew fat.

While buyers and sellers alike were satisfied, the clergy alone grew increasingly displeased.

“I know full well that the common people are rash, but offering Masses as though living people have already been canonized… Do they not know that no one has ever become a saint while still alive? Even our Lord Jesus was not recognized as a saint during His lifetime!”

“This goes beyond religious fervor. Portraits and statues… The image of a saint must be founded upon verified miracles. What they are doing is passing judgment ahead of the Church. If this continues, who will uphold the Church’s authority?”

“And if the Vatican imposes sanctions, who will take responsibility? And what is this business with statues? They carve people whose faces they have never properly seen into the likeness of angels and call them ‘incarnations of miracles.’ The public is already calling them saints. They have lost their minds!”

“We must put a stop to this. If we do not act now, the Church’s authority will be dragged through the mud.”

While many rejoiced over the fall of Orléans, the clergy began to harbor hostility toward the bearers of revelation.

Meanwhile,

In Tours, the Dauphin held a private meeting with Maxime and his party.

“You cannot imagine how moved I was when I heard the news! Hymns are ringing out at every city gate! Your bravery has brought my country back to life. The Kingdom of France still stands strong. I offer my heartfelt respect to every soldier who took part in the victory!”

The Dauphin made no attempt to hide his heightened emotions. His eyes were filled with trust. He welcomed each member of the party in turn, drawing closer to them.

“Thank you for such a warm welcome. We would also like to discuss our plans going forward…”

Just as the conversation was about to begin in earnest, someone knocked urgently on the door.

Since this was not a place just anyone could enter, the knocking sounded all the more conspicuous.

“Tsk… Who is it?”

It was an envoy. He bowed low and presented Charles with a letter.

After delivering the letter, he turned toward us.

“…The Holy See has invited you. And in quite a courteous manner, at that.”