France

3,947 years since initial death
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There were more French prisoners than there were soldiers in the English army.

Under King Henry V's command, they were all executed. Milton never went along with it. Despite his anger, he would never strike down an unarmed man. Instead, by the time it was 1429, he regained most of his sanity, just enough to make a conscious decision when the time came.

The invasion of Orléans had initially started on October 12th of 1428. With the French already on the brink of defeat, losing Orléans would certainly end the war in a decisive English victory. The city was entirely locked down as English troops already began setting up blockades around the area. Thousands stood outside the city walls, cannons were brought in and were ready to fire upon the first command.

Milton expected a grand English victory as the city was already in a full state of panic. But it was harder than it seemed. This was no ordinary battle, it would take more than a few days or even a week to come out victorious this time. It would be months before a successful siege could be laid to the entire city.

Within the first month, several English stations were set to look out onto Orléans. It was during this time that the first blood was shed, south of the city in Tourelles. After exchanging constant volleys of arrows and cannon fire, both sides suffered casualties and the French were forced to retreat further back. In order to slow down the English soldiers, The French detonated a bridge that crossed a river in the city making it impossible for the English to advance.

The conflict seized for a while, as both sides prepared for the worst. Although a significant English victory was imminent, the tides could change at any moment. Milton was sent south to aid the troops in Tourelles, as hundreds of extra soldiers arrived north from over the hills atop Orléans.

Cannon fire continued everyday from both sides. The English Earl of Salisbury had half of his face torn off after being struck by debris as a result of an explosion from a nearby cannon. He survived, only to finally succumb to his injuries a week later. Despite the minor setbacks, the English remained confident in their strategy.

Several fortresses and bases were erected surrounding Orléans, with Milton being positioned in the Bastille of Saint Loup, just east of the city. It was already 1429, as a few months have passed since the beginning of the siege. Throughout this time, both sides have attacked, only to end all conflicts in a draw. French resources were diminishing, and an English naval fleet arrived at the river to resupply their troops.

Back at the Bastille, Milton remained on scouting duty. While positioning himself north of their base, he spotted French reinforcements marching towards the city. They were of average size, with a few hundred men on horseback, most of whom were carrying banners. The leader at the front lines looked somewhat smaller than the others, unidentifiable from Milton's position.

"Sir, French reinforcements are entering Orléans north of our position. By my count, I spotted roughly four hundred soldiers in full march behind their commanding leader." Milton reported his scouting to his English commander, who in return replied with a smirk.

"They must be pissing themselves in fear already. Return to your post and remain guarded. I anticipate they'll attempt to run us out of the Bastille sooner rather than later." The commander responded, seeming overconfident in himself.

The commander was correct. The French may be on the verge of collapse, but their determination to continue fighting proved to be strong. Only a few days after Milton's discovery, the Bastille of Saint Loup was dragged into battle during the night. But the effort the French placed into this fight was pathetic, rather this was a skirmish. In the far away distance, Milton could spot the French leader board a boat by the river.

This skirmish was a distraction. The French were attempting to sail back to the city while using the darkness as a shroud. Milton had escaped the conflict to watch the boat in amusement. The wind was violently blowing against them, it was impossible to sail back without attracting attention.

Just as he snickered to himself, he felt a change around him. He noticed the trees nearby. Just a minute ago, the wind forcefully shook them as they faced east. All of a sudden, the trees had started to lean towards the west. It was instantaneous. This should be impossible, yet it happened.

No words could possibly describe his emotions. It was as if Mother Nature sided against him just out of spite, to wipe the smirk off his face. The wind had just reversed itself and changed direction as it guided the French boat down the river with ease. Nothing can explain how or why the wind could turn drastically to the French's advantage.

Milton couldn't believe it. Even before his very eyes, he questioned reality. This cannot be possible. He simply stood in astonishment and disbelief as the boat disappeared into the darkness.

Was this an act of God? Perhaps fate has sided with the French forces.

Milton spent the remaining few days thinking it over, but during times of war, he could never escape combat. Another conflict had plagued the Bastille, only this time, the same reinforcements he had spotted before began to charge towards their position. This was no skirmish, this was finally an actual battle.

With barely enough time to get in proper position, the English were forced to stand and defend their ground. Immediately, they were caught under fire by a few hundred French soldiers. Surprisingly, the assault was strong and directly head-on. It seemed the French were also sending their strongest soldiers in a last effort to push the English back.

Milton grabbed his sword and ran outside to face the battle, the familiar sounds of arrows whistling through the sky was something he welcomed now. Several cavalry arrived and began clashing their swords with the English. Milton showed no signs of weakness, allowing his wrath to aid him in the battle. Thousands of years of combat seems to have that sort of effect on a person.

The English forces struggled to keep the advancing French and Armagnac troops from the bastille. Blood and gore covered the ground as no man was spared. The French fought harder than ever before, and they were succeeding. In a surprising turn of events, they had finally gained the upper hand and challenged the might of the English.

However, the English had something that the French didn't.

They had an Immortal.

Just when the French were beginning to push through, Milton had reached his limit. Every single swing of his sword was devastating. It was enough to break through his enemies' defenses and tear them apart. He was single handedly keeping the bastille from falling into French hands.

Anyone that challenged him was met with death. Not once did he stumble or fall. Not once did he cower or suffer a wound. He delivered a destructive vengeance that nobody could possibly counter.

Although during the fight, he could have sworn he saw the appearance of a golden lion maul a soldier close-by. But when his eyes turned to stare at it, it was gone. The effects of war were clearly playing with his mind.

This battle was coming to an end, and it was about to finally break the French resolve to the point of no return.

But it wasn't over yet. As he struck another soldier, he rested to catch his breath. That was when he spotted a figure in the far distance. Over the hills, one knight on horseback rode hastily towards the battlefield. Milton took him for a lone soldier that might have lost his way. As the knight was approaching, he seemed to be carrying a large national banner. It was the leader that looked smaller in size, the same one he had seen before.

Charging straight into battle, their leader immediately tore through the English defenses. Already proving to be a highly skilled fighter, Milton was intrigued, and now his mind was set on one thing. Killing the French leader and destroying the army's only hope in saving Orléans.

Wanting to save his energy for the duel, Milton tried to avoid any further combat as he got closer. However, he was met with a surprise. Ever since the leader arrived, the English had been pushed back. With Milton running back and avoiding combat, this battle was quickly shifting in favor of France.

Several English soldiers were defeated as the rest began to retreat. Somehow, this particular French leader was able to ensure a victory. It almost seemed impossible. But that's the reality Milton faced when he realized that he was the only one left standing with the will to fight.

As the battle had already seemed to conclude, the remaining English troops had surrendered. Milton on the other hand clenched his blade tightly, glaring at all the French soldiers ahead. None of them bothered to attack him. Rather, they surrounded him and kept their blades up. He used this to his advantage and gave the impression that he had surrendered. Instead, he was just waiting for their leader to come to a halt.

When the leader finally stopped, he was given a chance to speak.

"I challenge thee, from one warrior to another, a duel to the death!" Milton yelled at the leader, using the little french he had learned through the years as he pointed his sword towards his opponent. It would be a fair, one on one fight.

The leader jumped off the horse and took his helmet off, revealing short dark hair and a feminine visage. Milton found himself in utter shock. To his surprise, the French leader wasn't a man at all, rather she was merely a girl. She appeared incredibly young and had the looks of determination in her eyes.

Milton had just unknowingly challenged the seventeen-year-old Jeanne D'Arc, to a duel of fate.

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Historical Notes:

During this time, the French army had lost all hope of survival. It reached a point where French partisans found themselves fighting each other in the open fields. They were completely paralyzed.

Furthermore, back in England, a new batch of troops were readied to enter the war. Thus adding a few extra thousand men to the battlefields.

The wind changing direction suddenly to guide the French boat towards the city undetected is seen as one of Joan of Arc's reputed miracles.

The city of Orléans in 1428 - 29

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