Orléans

3,947 years since initial death
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This was no ordinary duel.

Joan never responded to Milton's challenge. She kept her blade by her side and watched his every move.

Milton felt as if she was taunting him, and it angered him. He made the first move. It was usually unwise to do this, but he waited long enough for this moment. Twirling his sword threateningly, he began to charge straight towards her. Immediately, he swung his sword as fast as he possibly could. Taking his speed into consideration, this would kill even the most talented fighters across the entire world.

However, despite how fast he was, Joan was faster; much faster than anyone he ever faced in hundreds of years. She deflected his attack and struck with ease, flawlessly keeping her form as Milton struggled to maintain his balance. All the other knights started to gather and watch, internally cheering for their leader as they remained silent.

She fought like Arthur, never with any anger behind her strikes. Her strength reminded him of one of the ancient Greek Gods he once believed in, Athena. Joan, along with Arthur and the Goddess of Wisdom, shared the same ambition and determination as his former ally, Chuanguan. Every warrior and mentor he had ever known came to life in this girl, that was when he finally felt a sense of dread.

This was no easy fight, and he was beginning to worry.

That was when he realized, his heart and soul were beginning to surrender internally. He hasn't felt this way in so long. For the first time in perhaps a thousand years, he was afraid of death once more.

She had the upper hand at all times, catching her opponent off guard. Pushing him further back, Milton finally spoke. "Who the hell are you?"

Instead of a response, he was met with more swings from her sword. Desperately trying to stand his ground, Milton slowly walked backwards while keeping his guard up. All the corpses and scattered weapons around them made it difficult to walk around, but he had an idea in mind. His confidence returned as he realized he was leading the girl towards a trap she could never avoid.

The English had set up metal spikes in the ground, designed to be a trap for the oncoming French forces. Faking a tumble, Milton fell over them and landed on the other side of the hidden spikes. Just as he had planned, Joan used this opportunity to charge, only for her to step on one of the spikes, penetrating her foot.

This was it, his moment to strike her down. She cried out in pain, giving Milton just enough time to stand back up and ready his blade. He raised it high and wasted no time in swinging it down as hard as he possibly could. As long as it lands, it should form a clean decapitation.

But that moment never came.

Despite having her trapped, Milton couldn't finish her. Joan had found the strength to remove her foot from the spike and raise her sword to block her opponent's attack. Her willpower was incredible, it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Still stunned from this surprise, Milton's guard was once again down, allowing Joan an opportunity to strike.

She swiftly swung her sword delicately ahead before bringing her weapon back to her side.

Milton simply stood still, trying to realize what had just happened. Then, he felt a familiar pain right below his chin. He placed a hand over his throat, his blood was oozing. Joan had perfectly slit his throat in one elegant swing. Finally, he dropped his sword and quickly grabbed his neck, stumbling back and falling against the bastille's wall.

He lost to a young girl. After all these years of combat, this is how he dies once more. But just as Joan's will was strong, so was his. Through the pain, his mind had altered, every thought rushed through his head. Has he really been so blind in anger and arrogance? He tried his best to speak out to her once more in the hopes of her being able to listen. If he was to die by her hands, he should at least be able to hear her voice.

"Je suis désolé."

Although Joan had already turned her back on him, once she heard him speak again, she couldn't help but look directly back at him. He was still alive, the slit in his throat wasn't too deep. If he was given proper treatment, he could survive. She thought all soldiers were the same, just mindless savages that fought for blood and power, and without honor. For one to apologize and accept his defeat was a sight she hadn't seen before.

After a long exchange of looks, she finally sighed and ordered a medic to aid him. Before she turned to leave, Milton noticed tears dropping from her cheeks. She was crying. He wanted to ask why but remained silent as a few French soldiers rushed over to help him up. The battle was over, and the French were starting to regain hope in the overall siege.

Taken to Orléans, Milton was quickly treated for his injury. He was also stripped of all his armor and weapons. Meanwhile, tensions began to rise as reports of a large invasion of English soldiers were on the march from Paris to take Orléans. They had time to prepare, but Joan had other ideas in mind. The siege has already been underway for months now, it has to end soon. Her idea was that instead of waiting for the English, the time is right for the French to launch an unexpected offensive.

Her plan was to sail down the river and head southwest, to ambush the English battalion and stronghold in Tourelles. It was risky, but under her command, anything was possible. She had no trouble whatsoever persuading her soldiers to follow after her, and without wasting any more time, they made haste. Everything went according to plan as they arrived at Tourelles with enough troops to start the battle.

During his time in Orléans, Milton was made aware of who Joan really was. Some of the people here worshipped her. News of three nuns who all suffered from illnesses prayed to Joan. Shortly thereafter, all three nuns were miraculously cured as their illnesses had subsided and disappeared.

It sounded impossible, but so many people attested to it. Joan was no ordinary person. She doubled his own strength and tripled his speed and agility. No woman, let alone any man in history that he's met could match her power.

Furthermore, the people speak of a prophecy that only she can fulfill. Milton never had the chance to ask what this prophecy may be. But it continued to linger in his mind.

Joan claimed a holy angel had spoken to her and guided her towards this path. She said she has the willpower to believe it, to believe that she was sent here by God.

Milton's mind thought of every possibility, anything that can logically explain Joan's power. But nothing seemed to fit, only except for one thought. He won't be satisfied until he can speak to her about it to confirm his suspicions.

In just a few days, the French stormed the English troops and managed to destroy most of their forces. Only the English commander, William Glasdale, and around a hundred of his soldiers remained, trapped inside the Bastille des Augustins.

Each side took their time in preparing for battle. With his forces surrounded, Glasdale remained with his troops for over a day, waiting for the French to make their move. He wasn't willing to recklessly charge outside only to become overwhelmed in the face of battle. There was nothing else he could really do as English reinforcements wouldn't be able to reach him in time.

Instead of attacking him instantly, Joan decided to leave the battlefield during the ceasefire to pray in a nearby vineyard overlooking the city. It served as a place of meditation, enough to help clear her mind as she sought an answer from God himself.

During times of war, peace and prosperity was a luxury to enjoy, even if it was for an hour. But as she basked in the peacefulness, she heard footsteps approach her from behind.

There were questions that needed to be answered.

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Historical Notes:

The Three Nuns that were cured by Joan all lived in separate locations. They had all prayed to Joan the day before they were cured. One was Sister Thérèse of Saint Augustine, who lived in Orléans. She was cured of leg ulcers.

Sister Julie Gauthier, who lived in Faverolles, was cured of a cancerous ulcer in her left breast.

Sister Marie Sagnier, who lived in Frages, was miraculously cured of stomach cancer.

On April 18th, 1909, Joan of Arc was declared 'Blessed' by Pope Pius X.

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