Orléans

3,947 years since initial death
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"Jeanne D'Arc."

Milton stated her name, eager to begin his confrontation. He kept his dagger hidden, and he would only use it once she has told him everything he wanted to know. Even if she's immortal like he suspected, he'll stand over her and wait however long it takes to see her rise again.

Joan's gaze never left the horizon. They looked upon Orléans's walls lined across the river, and the English settlements towards the west. It was a shame how many died to stain the beautiful landscape in so much blood. This war had to end soon, and he would be the one to do so.

"Never before in all my years have I seen a woman of your age lead a grand army into battle." Milton added, hoping to get a response from the silent girl. 

"Did you need something, Englishman?" She ignored his comment. Finally, her eyes locked with his.

"Your knowledge, yes." 

She paused to study his appearance, Milton remained calm and held his innocent composure. "If you wish to know why I'm here, it is because of God's will."

"Surely there's more behind your arrival. You'd risk your life to save a city from inevitable demise, there must be something aiding your confidence." Milton still believed the English would win this war. They had the advantage overall. 

"If it were your home facing an invasion, would you not fight for it?" Her question stumped him. "Any family or loved ones you hold dear to your heart, you would protect them, correct?" 

He got himself killed chasing after those who threatened not just his home, but his family. That reminder frustrated him. "Any good man would have given his life if it meant safety for anyone he cares for and cherishes. But you've assumed the role of a leader, and your men trust you."

"My people follow me because they believe in my cause. Everyone has a person they look up to for guidance. If no such person exists, then someone would have to assert their leadership for others to follow. That is what I've done, and it's what France needed." 

They remained quiet momentarily, continuing to stare at the city before them. "Back at Saint Loup, I saw you mourn our fallen soldiers." Milton had another question in mind, he would save it for last. "You killed those men but cried for them. Why?"

She breathed deeply, her eyes sealed shut. "They died without confession, all of their lives lost because of a meaningless war. I find no joy in murder, but I won't hesitate to kill those who prove to be irredeemable. Though I must ask you, what ever happened to all the French prisoners you took from their homes?"

Milton calmly replied. "We killed them all."

"And do you believe I should have done the same with you and your allies? Or are you grateful I granted you your freedom back despite all you had done?" 

That made him stop to think. If he was in her position, he'd have the prisoners executed as payback for what the enemy did. But as he thought it over, Joan continued to speak.

"This is why you're still alive. I find value in most lives. You risked your life till the very end to challenge me, knowing you'd die whether or not you won. It takes the same sort of bravery I have, and you apologized when defeated. These are emotions not many soldiers ever tend to show in battle."

"I challenged you because I don't fear death." He wanted to mock her immortality, but he still wasn't sure if she was like him. 

"And neither do I. All I fear is living my life in vain." 

"You've accomplished more in a week than all of France had in years." Milton had to admit how impressed he was by her tactics, even if he still believed her loss was imminent. "If you were to die now, your death would not be in vain."

Joan crossed her arms. "I know my purpose, I have not lived the life I've had to die now. That's not how God would end it."

"You cannot know for certain. I could murder you now, or you could die tomorrow in the midst of battle." Milton hoped he didn't expose himself there, otherwise he'd have to kill her soon. 

"But you won't, and neither will any man." Joan's continued confidence in her abilities had to be admired, even if she was foolish to believe her own words. "I'm still young and a prime target for assassination, which is why many will try, but I trust God to keep me alive. At most, I can only be wounded until my country is saved. Tomorrow, blood will flow from my body above my breasts. That, I can predict."

She sounded so sure of herself, like she had foreseen the future to determine where she would be struck. But Milton didn't trust her. She'll say whatever she wants to sound powerful and inspire her soldiers. 

"That's impossible to predict. You are no oracle." He momentarily thought of Greece, but these years have left him skeptical of anyone. 

"I never claimed I was an oracle. My predictions are nothing in comparison to the prophecies that push me forward each day. Besides, was it not said that France would be ruined through a woman and afterwards restored by a virgin?" 

That's what he waited for. He had to know more about this. "I don't seem to follow, what prophecy spoke of you?"

 "It was foretold far beyond our time in the ancient lands of England. What had been lost by a woman would be saved by a woman." 

Milton paused, his brows raised. It sounded familiar. He tried to remember England long before the Saxons ever occupied it and turned it into what it was now. A theory struck him, and he turned motionless. It couldn't be possible. 

During his silence, Joan finished. "You may laugh, but this prophecy was spoken by an English wizard named Merlin. He spoke of this war, and he believed in me. Whether you trust this information or not, I aim to fulfill his prophecy and save this country from what Isabeau had previously lost."

He flinched. His breath halted, and his eyes froze. All his senses spontaneously ceased, rendering him a statue incapable of speech. Meanwhile, his mind screamed at himself in terror, as anxiety was the only emotion that shrouded him from head to toe. He suddenly remembered everything. 

Damn you, Arthur. 

He stared at her with obvious worry in his twitchy eyes, his body trembled from the pressure. Joan took notice of this. "You seem distraught. I'm curious, what are your thoughts on it?"

Distraught? The realization that he's the reason she's here ruined everything he had planned. His mind was on the verge of breaking down, as his past self fought to regain control in this moment. 

Finally, his lips parted to stutter his response. "I find it admirable to take inspiration from the words of an ancient man such as Merlin, but are you sure he spoke of you?" 

Joan softly smiled in return. "Well, 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 I have been touched by no man." 

Those words confirmed it. He knew what he said. An emotional chuckle escaped him, and he hid the torment inside. "Fascinating, truly. I'm sorry, I'm at a loss of words. It's just wonderous how the actions of ancient men could influence so much into the far future. That no matter how significant they may be, they all had some form of impact on the world."

He didn't understand what he just said, it only felt appropriate to say. Though he continued to think that 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. He never intended to speak of her, it was a drunken ramble. Yet with Joan serving as living proof of his legacy, he knew exactly what had to be done. 

His mind finally altered, and he regained his confidence.

"Jeanne, I wish to offer you my service and undying loyalty." Milton's response came so suddenly, nearly startling the girl with his erratic movements. His chin raised. "We can recover Orléans together, you have my word. I recognize now how wrongful I was, I kindly ask that you please grant me a chance at redemption."

He hoped she would accept his offer, but her sigh convinced him otherwise. "Thank you for your submission, but this is not your fight any longer. A man cannot save what a woman had lost. Remember Merlin's words."

"A man can damn well try! We're here because of my proph... 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 looked away again in embarrassment. His pride and anger nearly exposed him.

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

Milton turned back around and froze. 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 and shook it. Her grip was stronger than it seemed. He conveyed some sadness in his eyes as he answered her. "Maalik. You can call me Maalik."

Joan gently lifted his hand. "Well, Monsieur Maalik, I must inform you that you have hurt my people and killed many. Our blood is stained on your one remaining hand, and it will never be washed away, no matter your future actions. You must live with it. I believe that even the harshest man deserves a chance at life, which is why I've gifted you your freedom. Leave this place, stay away from warfare, and live a happy life in peace. That is how you may be of service to me."

Their handshake concluded, and Joan turned to leave. Just as she already took a few steps forward, he stopped her. There was one last question. "I want you to answer me truthfully, regardless of how ridiculous this may sound."

He searched for the right words and finally asked her the one question on his mind. "Jeanne D'Arc, are you immortal?"

She pouted with a raised brow, it wasn't the reaction he expected. "I'm unsure what you mean, but no one is immortal, Monsieur Maalik. Besides, I could never wish to be one. I'm already content with my life, even if it were cut short."

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.

As he watched her figure disappear, a lion approached him and raised its paws to slouch against the fence. The frustration within him grew tenfold, and he reached for the dagger tucked in his leggings. He angerly chucked it across the fence and far into the vineyard. The lion's eyes traced the knife's path in the air before turning to face him.

He ignored it and turned to leave. There was nothing more for him to do. It was time to follow Joan's advice, but curiosity still beckoned him. Though he had no more involvement in the war, he stayed to spectate it and see if she was truly capable of winning this impossible fight. 

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 didn't know how she was able to predict it so perfectly.

She fell from the injury, and Milton thought it was over. But her resistance startled him and she stood back up shortly after. It was a level of determination that he had rarely seen before. Eventually, she forced the English commander, Glasdale, to retreat onto the remnants of the very same bridge 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. The English resolve broke after the deaths of all their commanders and the loss of their bastilles. 

Most surprisingly, Joan marched out with a sizable army behind her. But they were not just composed of soldiers. Rather, hundreds of civilians departed from Orléans's walls and stood behind her to lend their aid in the final battle. They carried anything that classified as a weapon, ranging from brooms to oars. 

Despite holding their ground for so long, panic overwhelmed the English soldiers. Although a retreat was never ordered, every soldier abandoned the fight. They left their stations and avoided any further bloodshed. 

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

Straightening his grey coat and wielding his staff as a cane with his one arm, he turned away from the walls. There was nothing else for him to see here. It was time he fulfilled his duty in serving her, and that meant a new journey outside this country.

As he marched across the Earth, he remained steady. He was granted another life, and he must live it well. Throughout it, he searched for efficacious moments of joy, love, harmony and adventure. His story wouldn't end here. He knew that the only fate worse than losing a friend is to have lived a life without one at all. So he continued his travels and never showed signs of fear or cowardice. Though his anger often reached beyond words and beyond bounds, he was still determined to be the one to march forward. That is how he will forever be in service. 

These were all the valuable lessons and memories he held within each chapter of his life. Joan of all people finally helped him realize it. Though he could change his name a thousand times more, this was Maalik's path.

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.

According to several French citizens and soldiers at the time, Joan really did correctly predict how she would be injured in battle, including the real line, "tomorrow, blood will flow from my body above my breasts." It's another reason why so many looked up to her during France's most vulnerable time. 

There were several prophecies that depicted France's savior to be a woman, more specifically, Jeanne herself. Some even mentioned a female savior from the borders of Lorraine, that being Jeanne's home village. 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 as widespread, the mentioning of an old English wizard by the name of Merlin seems more than a massive coincidence.

Despite Orléans's siege ending in 1429, the Hundred Years War wasn't concluded until 1453 with a French victory that reclaimed all the land they had lost to England. The war lasted for around 116 years, though many other events such as the Bubonic Plague played into lengthening the war. 

In 1430, Joan of Arc was captured by the Burgundians that aided England. She made two attempts at escaping their custody, including jumping out a window of a seventy-foot tall tower and landing over a moat. She was caught afterwards.

Despite never being tortured for her well manners during trial, she was subject to cruelty in prison and faced a few rape attempts by the guards. Later, she would be sentenced to death as a political prisoner, and on May 30th, 1431, she was executed in the town of Rouen by being burned at the stake. She was nineteen years old at the time.

Jeanne D'Arc (Joan of Arc)

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