Orléans

3,947 years since initial death
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To Joan's surprise, Milton had arrived to speak with her.

After being treated for his neck wound, he was released under Joan's orders. Instead of leaving the country altogether, he decided to chase after her. Everything he's heard of her cannot leave his mind, and he can never rest until he speaks to her himself. They shared a brief moment of silence as they looked out onto the horizon.

"Never before in all my years have I seen a woman of your age lead a grand army into battle." Milton spoke first, several French guards were nearby to watch over him. Although he had no violent intentions, he understood why they would be here.

"My people needed me." Joan responded. "Under God's will, I answered his call. Nobody else has the courage to fight, they all claim Orléans to be lost. I'm here to prove otherwise." She was certainly brave, and her confidence even reminded Milton of not just his former self, but also of his first daughter, Aisha.

They remained quiet, continuing to stare at the city before them. "Earlier, I saw you mourn our fallen soldiers." Milton wanted to ask the very question that pondered his mind for a while. "You killed those men but cried for them. Why?"

She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "They died without confession, all of their lives lost because of a meaningless war. I take no joy in murder, yet even during these moments, I'm forced to take lives. It is why you're still alive, because you have the heart to reveal your humanity. You could have stayed silent and accepted death, but you showed respect and apologized. It's an emotion not many other soldiers ever tend to show in battle."

He crossed his arms, remembering every time he was forcefully dragged into warfare. "Fate has a way of dragging us towards a life of warfare. Not all of us are ever ready for it, but we're forced to fight. Whether it be in self-defense or because it's the right path, war will forever remain an unsolved mystery that haunts our nature."

"But no good ever comes from it!" Joan became upset, but she quickly calmed down. "It's because of the spoils of war that we all suffer, nothing can change that, but I will continue to stand for what is right; even if it kills me."

Milton turned to look at her. "War is unpredictable. You cannot know what will happen, perhaps no blood will spill at all tomorrow."

Joan shook her head, she knew exactly what would happen. "I'm still young and a prime target for assassination. No matter what I may do, my suffering is inevitable. Tomorrow, blood will flow from my body above my breasts. That, I can predict."

"How do you remain so certain?"

"Many call me mad, others a witch," Joan frowned, "but I could care not of what they believe. God has entrusted his faith in me, and I will not fail him. Even when I am to bleed in the face of my enemies, I shall never abandon the fight for my people." 

Although Milton remained skeptical and even unsure of her words, he was still curious. In addition to his time in Orléans, he had also heard that Joan was the woman spoken of in a prophecy. But this only confused him further. What prophecy were they referring to? It seemed impossible that anyone from the past could have ever foretold the country's savior to be a woman.

"It has come to my attention that the people of France claim you are spoken of in a certain prophecy." He said, looking into her eyes. "What is this prophecy that they speak of?"

Joan smiled for the first time. "It was spoken in the English lands long ago, far beyond any of our time. What had been lost by a woman would be saved by a woman. They say it was foretold by a wizard of that time named Merlin. Whether you want to believe it or not, I aim to fulfill this prophecy and save this country from what Isabeau had previously lost."

That was when Milton's world came crashing down.

He lost all his senses, leaving him in a distant void filled with nothing but his past memories. This was impossible, it couldn't be happening. Perhaps there was another Merlin at the time, but it was illogical as he was the one who had said that exact same line. He even told Arthur he could write it down, and it seemed he did.

He stared at her with obvious worry in his eyes, his whole body was beginning to shake. She quickly took notice of this. "You seem distraught. It's acceptable if you choose not to believe in this prophecy. But do tell me, what are your thoughts on it?"

"It is difficult to say for certain." Milton wanted to scream. In fact, the only thing he could hear was his own mind screaming at him in pure fear. "We may never know the real truth behind it, but to take inspiration from the words of an ancient man such as Merlin, I find it to be purely fascinating. All I know is if he ever had the privilege of meeting you in person, he would be proud to bestow such a prophecy for you to fulfill."

They both smiled at one another. It took every bit of strength within him not to crack, and it was hard. Joan looked back onto the horizon, keeping her smile. "His prophecy also described the female savior to be a virgin. If you require any further proof that he spoke of me, then you should know that my virginity remains."

Those words confirmed it. His smile faded away as he appeared somewhat frustrated, turning his head away. He had so much trouble believing it at all, but it seemed to prove something he had considered for so long. Perhaps this was fate. His actions, no matter how big or small, they all had some sort of impact on the world.

Her words resurrected a part of him that he had long forgotten. It brought back his sense of pure curiosity, to question reality as he knew it. If it weren't for his actions almost a thousand years ago, France may have never seen the likes of Joan fight for their freedom. His life is just as important as any other man or woman that has lived through any day in history. With Joan serving as living proof of his legacy, he knew exactly what sort of person he was truly meant to become.

He's not a warrior nor a blood thirsty soldier. War and wrath do not define him, no matter his mysterious sin that has plagued him for nearly four thousand years. He's not just an executioner; he's also a messenger. No matter the mistakes of his past and the countless number of defeats he had experienced. He is the one who delivers his wrath upon the guilty for the greater good of humanity.

Maalik Al-Seti. This is who he was always meant to become.

"Jeanne, I wish to offer you my service and undying loyalty." Milton snapped, nearly frightening the girl with his sudden movements. His chin was raised, he finally felt confident in himself. "We can recover Orléans together, you have my word. I recognize now how wrongful I was, please grant me a chance at redemption."

He was hoping she would accept his offer, but her sigh convinced him otherwise. "You have slaughtered countless numbers of our men before, have you not? I am grateful that you have chosen to fight alongside France, but I cannot accept your offer. The blood of our people is on your hands, not even I could overlook this. Thank you for your submission, but this is my fight. A man cannot save what a woman has lost. Remember Merlin's words."

"A man can damn well try! We're here because of my prophec... I- I mean I'm the one responsible for guiding you. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel that I'm responsible for your safety. I don't want to see you get yourself killed out there. Apologies if that came out wrong." His tone had grown furiously before scaling down. He lowered his hand and looked away again in embarrassment. His pride nearly exposed him.

Joan however reached out with her hand, appearing confident. "I understand your concern, but it will not change my mind. However, if you may, I'd like to know your name."

Milton had turned back around, noticing her hand. He paused. He didn't know how to respond, he was left completely oblivious. "My name?"

Which name would he even choose to answer her?

"Were you not given a name at birth?" Joan was moments away from lowering her hand, he had to think fast.

After another minor hesitation, he reached for her hand, shaking it. Her grip was stronger than it seemed. He looked back at her with a bit of sadness in his eyes as he answered her. "Maalik. You can call me Maalik."

Joan continued. "Well, Maalik, the blood of France also lies on my hands. While I cannot allow you to fight for us today, I can grant you the chance at redemption, just as you requested. I give to you the gift of freedom. I'm unsure if you've earned it, but even the harshest man deserves a chance. If we win this war, you will at the very least have my infinite gratitude, despite all that you may have done in the past."

Their handshake concluded, causing both of them to stand idle in silence. Once Joan nodded her head, she turned to leave. But he still had one more question for her.

"Wait!" Milton yelled back, suddenly remembering his sole purpose for coming here. Joan looked back at him as he spoke. "I want you to answer me truthfully, regardless of how ridiculous this may sound."

Taking a moment to find the right words, he finally asked her the one question on his mind. "Jeanne D'arc, are you immortal?"

She looked rather confused, it wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "No one is immortal. Everyone who lives today will die someday, including me and you. I could never wish to be immortal, because I am content with the life I hold. Even if it were to be cut short, I could never have asked for a better life to live."

Turning her back once more, she walked off, leaving Milton alone. The guards surrounding them began to follow their leader towards the exit. Everything she had said to him was the truth. He couldn't feel guilty nor regretful for what he's done. He needed to look forward.

But it didn't stop him from finally shedding a tear in peace. It was too much for any human being to handle. He could just dream of a distant future.

The next day, during a final attack on Glasdale's forces, an arrow struck Joan right between her neck and shoulder. Just as she had said it would happen, her words were true. Blood would spill from her body above her breasts. Even after everything she said, he still doesn't know how she was able to predict it, but she was completely right.

Whatever the case may be, it still left his mind wondering. She was hit in the same spot Milton was struck during his fight with the bandits in Egypt. An arrow to the shoulder, barely striking the neck. If they weren't concentrated on the war, he would have found it poetic.

Despite being hit, she didn't die, even after falling to the ground and bleeding. She was resistant and only stood back up shortly after. It was a level of determination that Milton had never seen before. Eventually, she forced the English commander, Glasdale, to retreat onto the very same bridge that the French had destroyed months ago.

She used this opportunity to call for Glasdale's surrender, but he refused. Instead he called her a witch, and attempted to hold his ground. However, the weight of all his men on the bridge was overwhelming. The bridge quickly collapsed, sending Glasdale and his men falling into the river. Their heavy armor caused them to sink and drown.

The Siege of Orléans was coming to an end. Jeanne D'Arc had single handedly changed the tide of the battle in favor of the French, and it was time for one final conflict. Just as she said, Milton wasn't allowed to intervene or carry a weapon, and therefore wasn't involved in the last battle. But it didn't matter. The English resolve was already broken. Joan marched out with a massive army behind her, as hundreds of civilians decided to join her in the final battle.

Despite holding their ground for so long, the English soldiers immediately began to panic. At the beginning of the siege, their numbers were greater, and almost seven months later, they were losing. Although a retreat was never ordered, every soldier knew it was worthless to continue the fight any longer. Before the final battle even started, the English army had turned around and began to run back.

Milton had witnessed all of it from the castle walls. Watching her stand up against the strongest military in the world, it brought forth a new perspective on how he views the world and his actions.

Straightening his grey coat, he turned away from the walls. There was nothing else for him to see here.

After so many months of fighting and waiting, the siege had ended and Orléans was saved on May 8th, 1429. The French victory sparked a hope throughout the rest of France, and their will to fight returned. It was all thanks to the Maid of Orléans, Jeanne D'Arc. Within nine days of her arrival, her country was saved.

France was saved by a woman.

Merlin's prophecy was finally fulfilled.

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Historical Notes:

Joan of Arc was only thirteen years old when she experienced her first divine visions. She claims to have been visited by Saint Michael surrounded by angels in her garden, and she cried, asking them to take her with them.

There were several prophecies that depicted France's savior to be a woman, more specifically, Jeanne herself. The most common prophecy was given by Merlin himself as Jeanne believed he spoke of her. In her words, she reminded the court of his prophecy, claiming, "France would be destroyed by a woman but would be restored by a virgin".

This further adds to the mystery of Merlin and the legends of King Arthur. Whether they were real or not, their influence cannot be argued against. In 1428, when Arthurian legends weren't common, the mentioning of an old English wizard by the name of Merlin seems more than a massive coincidence.

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