Chapter 46

In war, the importance of momentum could never be overstated. Few factors had such a direct impact on combat effectiveness regardless of resources.

Commanders gave rousing speeches and personally led from the front for precisely this reason….to build momentum. After all, humans were the ones doing the fighting. Compare an adult who bursts into tears and runs away after taking a single hit with a child who grits their teeth and bites back no matter how many times they are struck, and it becomes obvious that momentum itself was a factor in combat effectiveness.

“…This war is screwed. Too many of the soldiers are terrified. No matter how many times we tell them the cavalry can’t get inside the fortress, they just won’t listen.”

William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk and commander of the fortress of Jargeau, felt a growing sense of crisis. He had already dispatched messengers to the allied forces, but he feared the fortress would fall before reinforcements could arrive.

“It isn’t just the regular soldiers. The longbowmen still haven’t recovered from the shock either. …There was even an uproar at dawn when someone tried to desert, so the mood among the troops is still grim.”

“The problem is that we failed to keep the surviving troops from the outskirts quiet.”

“They watched our men get completely crushed in that clash. You can hardly blame them.”

“Swounds…”

A beautiful woman in gleaming armor leading cavalry clad entirely in steel.

The sight was so far removed from the brutality of the battlefield that it somehow made her seem all the more beautiful….and all the more merciless. Even those who ordinarily hurled insults at the witch had caught a glimpse of something extraordinary in her, so even promises of rewards had lost their effect.

It isn’t just the soldiers. The commanders’ morale has hit rock bottom too.

As the man responsible for the fortress, the Earl of Suffolk knew this was a moment that demanded resolve.

Without outside assistance, they would have to continue a siege already overshadowed by the prospect of defeat.

“I’ll send the French an offer to negotiate.”

He made his decision before they suffered even greater losses.

“If that is the commander’s decision…”

His fellow commanders did not object to the earl’s decision. If anything, they looked relieved.

It would have been better if they had stopped there.

Unfortunately, at the very end, their pride got the better of them.

“The witch doesn’t speak our language, and the Duke of Alençon, their commander, has little authority. Instead of dealing with them, let’s contact one of the renowned commanders in the enemy camp.”

“If we’re choosing a renowned commander in the enemy camp… La Hire would be the obvious choice.”

***

The Duke of Alençon gritted his teeth.

“They requested negotiations with La Hire, my lieutenant, instead of me, the commander-in-chief?”

“…Yes.”

He felt deeply insulted.

“Does the Earl of Suffolk think I’m nothing more than a figurehead?”

La Hire was just as bewildered.

“I told them I’m not the one with the authority to make decisions, but they’re ignoring me.”

“How sinister could their true intentions possibly be to warrant an insult like this…!”

The Duke of Alençon had once been a prisoner. He had been released on the condition that he pay England a ransom of twenty thousand crowns. For reference, twenty thousand crowns was a considerable sum, enough to reinforce a large fortress and procure additional siege equipment.

Or do they still think of me as nothing more than a debtor? It’s not as though I’m refusing to pay. Do they not understand why I’m on the battlefield?!

He had lost a considerable portion of his lands during England’s conquest of Normandy. His payment of the promised twenty thousand crowns had been delayed, and England had seized on that as grounds to hound him relentlessly for the money.

Perhaps they saw the Duke of Alençon, who had lost his lands because of them, as nothing more than an insolent debtor who had now shown his face on the battlefield.

Whatever the reason, the attitude seemed like nothing more than a deliberate provocation, and the commander-in-chief’s patience finally snapped.

“War! There will be war, without question! There will be no negotiations!”

A battle that had already been difficult to avoid was now completely inevitable. Contrary to what the English believed, the Duke of Alençon had built strong relationships with both the Saint and the Saintess since his appointment, leaving his authority over the army firmly established.

“Then I’ll lead the attack. There’s no reason to drag this fight out. Let’s commit to a full-scale battle and finish it today.”

It was Jeanne d’Arc. If battle could not be avoided, she wanted to settle it quickly. Experience had taught her that the longer a battle dragged on, the more needless casualties it caused.

“I wholeheartedly agree with the Saintess!”

“I also favor an immediate full-scale battle.”

Her proposal received the support of every commander present.

The sortie of the French forces was decided.

***

“We ride out!”

The entire French army assembled.

The uncertainty they had shown the previous day was gone. Confidence now filled their faces. Had Maxime been there to see them, he would have said the English surprise attack had served as a vaccine against fear.

The Duke of Alençon was disappointed to see the cavalry held back in the rear.

“It’s a shame they have to remain in reserve here after performing so well yesterday.”

“It’s all right. The Saint’s blessing is still with us.”

“If you’re fine with it, Saintess, then that’s a relief at least…”

The two rode side by side past the outer fortifications. The enemy had already abandoned them, so there was little significance in taking this position.

“Wait.”

The Saintess suddenly stopped. She glanced around, puzzled.

“I can feel a vibration… almost like the ringing of metal.”

Then it struck her.

“My good duke, get out of the way! An enemy cannon is aimed at you!”

“Wh-What?”

She urgently shoved the Duke of Alençon aside. He ducked and rolled out of the way.

Exactly one second later—

Boom! Crash!

A crude cannonball slammed into the spot where the duke had been standing. When he saw the angle it had come from, his blood ran cold.

“Hah… Haa…”

“We’ve been spotted! Run!”

His heart hammered violently in his chest. Hidden behind an awkward angle of the abandoned fortifications, enemies had been lying in wait to assassinate him. Without the Saintess’s warning, he would never even have known the danger was coming before it killed him instantly.

“You… thank you. You truly are blessed by Heaven.”

With trembling hands, the duke made the sign of the cross. He regarded the Saintess, who had so precisely foreseen the approaching danger, with newfound awe.

“No. I’m only sorry I noticed so late because my mind was elsewhere.”

“You call that… noticing late?”

It was because Maxime had come up in conversation.

The Saintess resolved to refrain from thinking about Maxime while they were on the move.

***

The armies of the two nations glared at each other across the battlefield. After a tense chorus of shouts, drums and horns rang out.

“Take the fortress! The first soldier over the wall gets first pick of the spoils! The farther ahead you are, the greater your claim!”

“Don’t let them get up here!”

The fortress was heavily defended. For the attackers, the soldiers who went first faced the greatest chance of death. None of them were eager to step forward.

“You damn cowards! I’ll go first, so follow me!”

“Follow my halberd!”

Gilles de Rais and Pierre were the first to charge forward. Among the soldiers, both men were renowned for their courage and eagerness to fight.

Gilles de Rais himself, however, did not consider himself particularly brave.

Heh. At least they’ll follow once someone takes the lead.

He had a peculiar worldview. He believed in the ideals of chivalric honor, but he also believed there was something about courage and love that lay beyond human understanding.

And so Gilles de Rais thought,

Even a disobedient wife settles down once you grab hold of her and make love to her. Maybe courage is the same. Perhaps there’s some way to manipulate it, like alchemy.

The desire to control what others could not was precisely why Gilles de Rais spared no expense when it came to magic.

“Maybe I should ask the Saint if he knows anything about magic while I have the chance. …But I can hardly go to him empty-handed. Follow me! Let’s claim the most glorious achievement of the day!”

He led the soldiers in a charge toward the walls.

“Raise the ladders. Once we’re over the walls, this war is over.”

Just as she had at Orléans, the Saintess personally took her place on the front line. She encouraged the officers and soldiers onward.

“Saintess?!”

The commanders scrambled in alarm.

She picked up a ladder alongside the soldiers and ran toward the wall. The sight gave the soldiers courage. They rushed after the Saintess, reached the walls, and raised their ladders against them.

Jeanne d’Arc personally began climbing one as well.

“Let’s go up!”

“Yes!”

Arrows poured down like rain amid the siege, punctuated by intermittent explosions. The cannon fire was inaccurate, but the sound alone was enough to dampen the French momentum.

Holding their breath, the soldiers climbed the wall one after another. Once they started ascending, there was no turning back, with their comrades climbing directly behind them.

“Push the ladders away!”

“We can’t reach them! Bring rocks!”

The English soldiers atop the walls began shoving away the ladders and hurling stones down at the attackers.

Some fell from the ladders halfway up. Others suffered fatal wounds and were left hanging lifelessly from the rungs. The casualties continued to mount, yet there was still no sign of a breakthrough.

“The witch is here!”

The longbowmen nearby raised their bows in unison.

“Arrows don’t work on her! Bring rocks!”

Hatred and fear of the witch mingled together. The top of the wall erupted into commotion as the soldiers relentlessly showered her with arrows and stones.

One of the rocks hurled by an English soldier struck her squarely on the helmet.

“…Huh?”

She was fine.

As though nothing had happened, Jeanne d’Arc simply climbed faster.

“What are you idiots standing around for?! Bring a bigger rock!!”

The commander atop the wall frantically urged his men on.

“We’ve got one…!”

They hauled a boulder the size of a small child onto the wall and dropped it without hesitation.

Jeanne d’Arc had nearly reached the top when the boulder came crashing down on her.

In that dizzying instant, she suddenly realized what was about to happen.

Ah. I can’t take this one.

With that brief thought, she lost consciousness.

Her body plunged toward the ground below.

Dust and debris scattered through the air as the soldiers froze at the sight of the Saintess falling.

Her silver armor caught the sunlight, tracing a dazzling path as she plummeted.

Then the enemy’s cheers erupted from above.

“The witch is dead! God’s favor is with us!”

“The Armagnac servant has fallen!”

Jeanne d’Arc remained unconscious for a full two minutes. The Duke of Alençon and the other knights sank into despair.

Two minutes later—

Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up. The haze and confusion quickly cleared from her mind.

Feels like I just took a short nap.

She sprang to her feet and immediately started climbing the ladder again.

The English soldiers’ cheers died away at the sight of her terrifying resilience.

“…Kya-ha! The Saintess is invincible!”

“La Pucelle! La Pucelle!”

The soldiers who witnessed it from right beside her were electrified.

Following the Saintess, they clawed their way up the wall with everything they had. One by one, French soldiers finally reached the top of the fortress, and as if to seal their victory, the Saintess planted her banner.

“The gates are open!”

“Cavalry, advance!”

“This is… a nightmare…!”

Just as Jeanne d’Arc had promised before the battle, once they made it over the walls, the fighting ended with astonishing speed.

The English fled in terror, but the cavalry quickly joined the pursuit and ravaged their rear. In the end, aside from a small number worth taking for ransom, most of them were dealt with.

“Have all the prisoners been gathered?”

“Yes!”

Among the captives was the Earl of Suffolk, the commander at the Siege of Orléans. When Suffolk realized that the man who had captured him was a mere squire, he flew into a rage.

“I understand being captured as the defeated party, but subjecting me to such disgrace is hardly honorable!”

“Spare me your nonsense.”

The Duke of Alençon’s response was cold.

“At the very least, you could knight the squire who captured me…”

“Consider it mercy enough that we’re letting you live.”

England had suffered devastating losses, while the French captured Jargeau with only minor casualties.

***

The French army returned from its campaign.

When news of the victory reached Orléans, the entire city erupted in celebration. People embraced one another and cheered, while children ran wildly through the streets.

“I’m back. I told you, didn’t I? I wasn’t going there to die.”

Maxime frowned when he saw Jeanne carrying a dented helmet.

“What happened?”

Jeanne’s proud shoulders flinched.

She looked like a five-year-old caught by her parents after doing something wrong.

“…I’m sorry. I know it’s precious, but it got dented and needs repairs.”

Maxime pushed aside the helmet she held out to him. It cut his hand in the process, but that did not matter.

The helmet did not matter either.

Objects were nothing more than tools meant to help people.

“I can make another one of these whenever I want. I’m asking how it got dented.”

“Well… I fell…”

Maxime examined Jeanne d’Arc’s swollen forehead.

Jeanne’s face flushed, and her tongue stumbled as she let out a strange, incoherent sound.

“Ah… Ah, aah… I-I’m really fine…”

“I’m not.”

She knew she shouldn’t act like this in front of someone who was worried about her, but the moment Maxime’s hand touched her, she melted into a blissful grin.

Eeeh… I’ll seduce him… later…