Chapter 39

The Duke of Alençon had been smiling often ever since becoming commander-in-chief. He wanted to reclaim his former lands in northern France. Becoming commander-in-chief was a tremendous opportunity.

While preparations for the campaign were in full swing, the duke summoned Jeanne and Maxime.

“Since you’ve come all the way to Tours, I’d like to take some time to introduce you to my family.”

“Thank you for the kind invitation. I’d be happy to accept.”

“I’d like that too.”

Whether now or in the future, introducing someone to one’s family was no small gesture of goodwill. Even after becoming commander-in-chief, the Duke of Alençon had not changed the way he treated us. That was a good sign. I had been wary when he showed us goodwill at our first meeting, but his consistent friendliness was gradually earning my trust.

The duke even listens seriously to ridiculous proposals. He’s much easier to work with than the Count of Dunois.

The Count of Dunois objected to practically every proposal they made. He eventually became little more than a figurehead, but if he had remained commander-in-chief, the French army would have struggled to realize its full potential.

When Jeanne commanded on the battlefield, the soldiers became several times more effective in combat. That was why even the somewhat reckless plans she devised actually succeeded.

Maxime was much the same. New weapons were subject to legal restrictions until their usefulness had been proven in actual combat. Without those restrictions, Maxime could immediately distribute supplies and employ all kinds of matériel as he saw fit. Once those restrictions were lifted, he could dramatically improve the quality of the French soldiers’ equipment.

Alençon, you’ve got it made.

This was what mutual benefit looked like. They gained a powerful backer, while the Duke of Alençon got to become a celebrated victorious general.

Even Walter has stopped being wary of the Duke of Alençon.

Walter occasionally sought out people he knew and forced them to play with him. When no one from Domrémy was around, he reluctantly went looking for the Duke of Alençon instead.

For the record, Walter beat the duke every single time.

Before leaving Tours, Maxime made one last attempt to stop Jeanne.

“Jeanne, are you sure you’re okay to leave right away? You were bleeding just yesterday. If you feel dizzy, stay here and rest. I’ll explain it to the Duke of Alençon.”

“…I told you yesterday too. I really am fine.”

“You lost that much blood and you’re fine…? The exhaustion you built up during the war must have hit you all at once. That’s how accumulated fatigue works. It catches up with you before you even realize it.”

“…I’ll try to get used to it from now on.”

“No, I’m telling you, this isn’t something you can just try harder at…”

How startled he had been when they left the cathedral and Jeanne d’Arc suddenly got a nosebleed.

He checked all sorts of things, wondering whether she had any internal injuries, whether she was getting enough nutrition, whether she had been sleeping enough… By the time he finished looking after her, their schedule had been delayed by about half a day.

“I’m sorry. But still… I liked it.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it, but…”

He had taken great care of her, and to his surprise, she seemed to enjoy being looked after.

“You’re so good at taking care of everything yourself that I never realized you liked having someone look after you. The next time I see Agathe, I’ll make sure she knows to take good care of you before I send her back.”

“…Okay.”

Jeanne thought to herself.

I don’t need Agathe, though…

The Saintess kept that thought to herself. She did not want to say something unnecessary and arouse suspicion.

***

We traveled down the river to the other side of Orléans.

“We’ll be there after just one day of travel. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother too, so I’m looking forward to it!”

In the Loire region of Maine in western France, we met the commander-in-chief’s family at an old castle.

His mother was a devout noblewoman.

Though she regarded us with some caution, she continually showed her curiosity as well. She carried herself with the refined grace of a well-educated lady, and it soon became clear where the Duke of Alençon had inherited his kindness.

“I had high expectations even from what I heard in his letters, but meeting you in person, I find you far more remarkable than I imagined. I believe your journey is more than a mere adventure. I believe it will change the course of this age.

You have moved me. I will become your patron. I will provide material support, of course, but I will also use my name and connections to open the way for you. Please, no matter how harsh this world may be, do not lose sight of what you believe in.”

We had gained a patron.

The Duke of Alençon seemed even happier about it than we were.

“……”

Jeanne still looked somewhat bewildered. The lady had brought up the subject of patronage almost immediately, without much conversation beforehand.

That evening, we met the duke’s wife. Her name was Jeanne. Duplicate names were common in France, so it was hardly surprising.

“Thank you for taking back my homeland. If it weren’t for you… my home would probably still be bound in England’s chains. Those bastards…”

She was the daughter of the Duke of Orléans, who had been taken prisoner by the English. With both her husband’s lands and her father’s lands having fallen into enemy hands, she harbored considerable hostility toward England.

“I still can’t believe such a young woman has been fighting on the battlefield. What kind of enemies do you usually face there?”

“There are plenty of enemies. But the most frightening ones aren’t the ones carrying weapons. The most terrifying enemy is the doubt within yourself.”

“…Th-that’s so cool!”

Grab.

Jeanne clasped Jeanne’s hands in hers.

“?”

She was delighted by the fact that Jeanne, who was younger than her, had distinguished herself in war. The way she acted was almost like an avid sports fan living vicariously through her favorite athlete’s achievements.

Jeanne found herself firmly in her grasp, reduced to a vending machine that dispensed stories on demand. She hurriedly signaled me to rescue her.

“Maxime, why don’t we leave the ladies to themselves and go outside to clear our heads?”

The duke meant we should step outside for some fresh air.

I glanced at Jeanne. She was staring at me wide-eyed, desperately signaling for me to save her. Still, I figured the duke had something he wanted to discuss with me, so I followed him out.

“Sure.”

“Ah…”

Jeanne looked as disappointed as an abandoned child.

In all honesty, I had only ever seen her leading soldiers on the battlefield, so seeing her cornered by a single woman didn’t strike me as much of a crisis. She simply wasn’t used to that particular kind of affection yet.

The air outside was clean. That was only natural in an age without factories.

The sun was setting over the fields. The cold winter was long gone, and the weather was pleasant.

It was a good season for war.

Looking at a beautiful view and thinking about war… I guess this age really has rubbed off on me.

The duke and I watched the fading sun for a moment before turning to face each other.

“I believe we’ve built enough trust between us by now. I sincerely consider you a friend, Maxime.”

“I trust you as well, Your Grace. If there’s something you want to say, please speak freely.”

The duke took a deep breath before carefully asking his question.

“There’s a strange rumor circulating among the knights. They say that anyone who swears loyalty to the Saint will be granted a powerful weapon like the one Gilles de Rais received. At first, I dismissed it as nonsense, but after seeing the suits of armor he supposedly destroyed with my own eyes… I began to think differently.

Maxime, can you perhaps… create holy relics at will?”

“Of course not. That one came about through an incredible coincidence. I can’t even make another one. I don’t have some sort of blessing that lets me create anything I want.”

I answered with complete sincerity, but the duke looked dissatisfied.

“Do you still not trust me?”

The Duke of Alençon suddenly seemed to lose even the most basic social filter. His mask had come off.

“I still remember the moment I was released from captivity. The nobles mocked me as ‘the poorest man in France’. Even now, remembering that moment… makes my blood boil. I was the one who had lost everything, yet they humiliated me while acting as though merely being born somewhere safe was some great accomplishment…!

…I will take it all back. I will prove myself. Even if we retake Paris, I know there will still be far more battles ahead of us.”

Only then did I realize what the duke truly wanted.

He wanted a comrade who would stand beside him completely.

“Help me. And I will help you.”

He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a moment, then slowly smiled.

“If we’re helping each other, then we’re already on the same side.”

I took his hand, and we clasped hands firmly.

A pact that transcended the stations we had been born into was sealed between us.

“Let’s fight together to the very end!”

“That’s exactly what I want too.”

***

We returned to Tours.

The closer the time of our departure drew, the more people came seeking an audience with us.

Most of the meetings were simply for the sake of building connections, but every now and then, some immature young noble would show up wanting to join the war in hopes of becoming the heir instead of his eldest brother.

They had no experience in war, yet they barged in demanding command, so I threw every last one of them out.

The strangest person to request a meeting was a scribe who had accompanied one of the diplomatic delegations.

The mild-mannered cleric started spouting madness the moment we met.

“I cannot turn a blind eye to the tragic deaths of the soldiers. As a priest, I wish to fulfill the duty entrusted to me and guide them on their final journey.”

He looked like nothing more than a hopeless idealist, drunk on romantic notions and determined to march off to war.

“War isn’t as beautiful as you imagine it to be. You’ll witness all kinds of deaths you’ll wish you had never seen.”

I listed some of the horrors I had experienced in war. At the end, I made sure to emphasize that even a priest’s life would not be safe.

But even my gruesome warnings did nothing to dampen his resolve.

“I know war isn’t beautiful either. …But someone must uphold what is right even amid all that depravity.”

“So you’ve already made up your mind. What is your name?”

“Tommaso Parentucelli.”

I thought about it for a moment.

Wouldn’t the soldiers find some comfort if a priest held Mass for them?

I could use a clergyman to boost morale.

“Very well. You can join us.”

For entirely pragmatic reasons, I accepted the priest into our ranks.

***

Count Dunois had inadvertently set something significant in motion.

Before the saint and the saintess joined the cause, he had become convinced that the Siege of Orléans was a complete failure and fallen into despair. So deep was his discouragement that, in a fit of desperation, he assembled a delegation of citizens to send to the enemy.

“…I’ll have to negotiate with Burgundy.”

The terms were simple.

He proposed handing Orléans over to Burgundy and standing aside so the English and Burgundians could move south of the Loire. He added that half of the city’s tax revenue would be paid to England, while the other half would go toward the ransom of the captive Duke of Orléans.

“You’re offering Orléans… to me?!”

Philip, Duke of Burgundy, could hardly believe his ears when he heard Dunois’s proposal. As a man filled with ambition, he forgot all sense of decorum and rushed straight to Paris.

“Duke of Bedford! We must accept Count Dunois’s proposal! This is our chance to swallow Orléans whole without losing a single man!”

He urged the English regent to accept the offer.

“…Orléans is going to fall whether we accept the proposal or not. We went through all that trouble to lay siege to the city, and now you expect us to simply hand it over because of a single offer?”

The Duke of Bedford’s response was cold. He was convinced that Orléans would fall before long. He had no intention of handing such a prize to Burgundy, who had brought a mere fifteen hundred troops to the campaign. That would amount to spending all that time and effort only for someone else to reap the rewards.

“…So you simply don’t want to give up the territory.”

“There is no need to look at this cynically. My highest priority is the success of our alliance.”

Philip was irritated by Bedford’s shameless attempt to dodge the issue.

“If you don’t want to hand it over, then handle it yourselves without us!!”

“…Good grief.”

Philip immediately pulled an utterly disastrous move.

He ordered every Burgundian force participating in the siege to withdraw. The Burgundian army left the battlefield.

As a result, the planned outpost meant to blockade the northern road into Orléans was never built.

Everyone knows what happened next.

The English lost the Siege of Orléans, and only then did Philip begin to grow uneasy.

Just because the Armagnacs have gained some momentum, there’s no way they’ll make it all the way to Reims… right?

To him, war was a punching bag that spat out money every time he hit it.

It had never occurred to him that one day, he might be the punching bag.