"Who are you to even know the difference between good and evil? Are you God?"

"No, I'm just the messenger. He needs me."

"How can you possibly imagine God, the creator of Heaven and Earth, the source of all life, needs you?"

"I don't know."

"You don't think He's big enough to deliver his own messages?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing, we're here to set you free."

Chapter 8: Good and Evil

Being shifted back in. That was a trip. Watching the world fill in, small cube by small cube, was the strangest experience. Ever. Color fading in as the cubes were chipped away, like an artist putting the finishing touches on the most marvelous sculpture.

Jeanne stretched her hand out, testing her movements slowly. She needed to be careful if Emily was no longer with her. She had warned Jeanne that she didn't know what would be waiting for her.

It was best to be cautious in this situation. Taking a look around, she found in her hands the iconic banner and a sword around her waist.

The air became hazy and crackle, Jeanne's hair standing up on the back of her neck as the same blocks started to form and peel away. Crackling and hissing as parts fell away and others morphed into humanoid shapes. The blue starting warp into other colors. Blonde, blue, gray, green, brown. In the blink of an instant, the mass of colors morphed into actual people standing before her.

Atalanta flexed her arms, stretching her legs as if getting used to the digital world. Artoria... Well, She was another matter. The moment she was phased in, she started to throw up behind an old shed in the alley.

Thankfully, or unthankfully, they were in a dark and confined alley off from the main street of Orleans to hide all the ruckus.

Atalanta helped The King to her feet. "Gahhhh!" She panted as she clutched her stomach. "I apologize…. I am still not used phased in."

Jeanne could not understand that, considering it was their second time. The archer checked her bow and her short swords and was satisfied with a nod. As for the King, well, she was still easing her stomach.

Looking up through the peeks of the clustered roofs, Jeanne could make it was the evening. So a whole day had passed for them on the outside. Time had a different speed in this place. Interesting.

Peeking around the corner, they were right where they left off. By the main street that led to the Cathedral off in the distance. The Cathedral of Reims. Its high gothic spirals reached upward, rejoicing with God's angels.

However, a group of soldiers were standing guard around it. Thinking about it, if she had spoken a word, she would most likely be recognized, and she didn't want to run that risk. She had a better idea.

"Artoria… I can't show my face… and Atalanta has no experience with city life, no offense." That and… well, Artoria had a whole lifetime of acting a man

Atalanta shrugged, "None taken."

"Right… I'll lead."

Still feeling unwell from the transition, Artoria took her own time leading the other two monks to the Cathedral. It gave her a chance to observe Orleans, the site of so much bloodshed and war. She could hear the people talking.

'The English are coming,' they whispered. 'How are we going to make it?' They asked. Priests led processions out on the streets, and she heard in some very hushed tones, praying for Jeanne's intercession. They prayed that she might deliver her from the blight of her people. Little did they know, they had had their Saint walking down the street.

She knew that kind of pressure was tossed on Jeanne's shoulders. To be seen as the savior of her people only to die before she could accomplish her task.

What she couldn't imagine was the weight of being condemned as a heretic and for half the country to see you as a witch. And yet, she carried on her with her cheery demeanor. Trying to pretend that it didn't get to her. Artoria vowed that she would fix it.

Her people did this, and as her people, King, granted ancient King, she would make this right, even if it will cost her life.

Making their way through the empty stalls, the three bowed their heads as Artoria led them up the stairs. Two guards walked down to meet them, one raising a hand.

"Halt! State your purpose."

"We are here on pilgrimage." Artoria said in her regal kingly voice, which admittedly was slightly feminine, "We are tired and exhausted and wish to commune with our Lord."

The soldier scratched his head as if he were debating on what he should do. "Well... I can't just let you in here. I have express order from the Duke not to allow anyone in here. All evening Masses have been canceled until… the defeat of the English..." The soldier's voice trailed off.

Artoria's cold eyes peered from the hood, "Be it on your head and soul to deny the Lord's poor and unfortunate who just desire to spend some time with Him." She turned to face her followers, "Let us go, Brothers."

Her ear perked up when she heard one guard whispering to another.

Taking a step down, she slowly walked by as the soldier called out, "Father…..?"

Artoria stopped and turned slightly,

"We can let you in, but you have to be out by the morning. Will this be alright?"

Artoria smirked, "That is more than enough. God bless you, my child." She made the sign of the cross on the two soldiers.

The soldier let out a sigh of relief, "I apologize, Father."

Artoria nodded as two soldiers the three monks into the Cathedral. Two massive wooden doors were opened before them as they crossed through the threshold. As doors were closed behind them, the three removed their hoods.

Artoria could hardly contain her breath as she stared up. The towering pillars stretched up all the way to Heaven. The stained glass was illuminated by dozens and dozens of candles. How could man ever build something like this?

This place was filled with an aura of holiness that nearly made the King of Knights collapse. Jeanne walked straight ahead towards the altar in an absent-minded state. This was where she achieved her pinnacle of fame.

Her eyes fell upon Atalanta, who practically went into shock. "I… I can't believe people built this…. This surpasses any temple…. In Greece. To think… your God…" She gasped as she fell to the ground, looking up to the ceiling.

"Atalanta…?" Artoria asked with some concern.

"Your God…." She murmured to herself. "I don't understand…"

Artoria understood that sentiment all too well as she walked over to the huntress, offering a hand.

"Give me a second… I'm not used to these… heights." Atalanta shut her eyes. "Ughhh… I feel sick."

After a few moments, the Huntress took her hand, "Try to keep your eyes on the ground." Artoria suggested.

"Thank you.." The huntress grumbled. "It is a shame we can't witness the full beauty during daylight." The huntress said with a frown.

"Indeed."

"What is wrong with Jeanne… she seems like she is in commune with the Gods… or I guess your God."

Artoria nodded, "this was where she became famous. Where her legend of being the Maid of Orleans started"

The archer hummed as she walked up the long causeway.

Jeanne could still see the flower petals spinning down from the balconies. The smell of incense climbing the air. She stood to the right of the altar, considered a very high place of honor, usually only reserved for the King and his family. Her banner raised behind her king, marking the start of Charles VII, the king of France; its radiant light declaring victory over the English.

The light slowly dimmer to show she was back in reality.

Taking three steps, she was in the holy sanctuary with the altar. Dropping to her knees in front of the altar and crucifix, she made the sign of the cross. "Lord, I know not why I am here. I don't know if I'm a part of your plan or if I'm so kind… of abomination, but I ask you. No… I beg you… guide me. Show me where I must go. Show me why I am here."

She looked up, pleading to Heaven, to the Lord on his cross as he looked back down on her, with almost a smile.

Jeanne. A voice called out to her.

The M whirled around to see someone by a pillar near the communion rail by the altar. There, she saw herself. Her true self, though it appeared as her as she is now.

She pointed down.

"Lord, if that's me…. Then where… who.. am I?"

The vestige pointed towards Jeanne than to herself. As if saying they were the same person. But if she was in Heaven… then how was she here?

Don't worry about such things. You will find out soon enough. The vestige said. It pointed downward. To the ground again.

Jeanne stood up from the altar and walked to the spot. The vestige had disappeared. "I believe I found where we must start."

The other two rushed down to Jeanne. Jeanne looked up and read, "Saint… Genevieve…" A small girl who held a baby lamb in her arms with a gentle and kind smile.

Atalanta raised an eyebrow, "Who is this person."

"One of France's oldest saints," Jeanne explained, looking at the image of a young girl with a deep sense of admiration swelling in her heart., "She rallied the citizens of France to pray and to fight against the Hun invasions. It saved Paris and caused the Huns to move to Orleans, but the city was already fortified." Jeanne placed a hand on the glass image, "She saved both cities through prayer."

"And it's right underneath our feet." Artoria thought out loud. "This was certainly not by coincidence."

Atalanta dropped to her knee, inspecting the floor. Tapping a few times slightly, she realized, "There is something under here" She blew on the floor to reveal that it was a covering.

"Artoria, can you chip a part of the floor."

The King drew Excalibur and brought it down, chipping a small hole in the tile, revealing the ground was not solid. Jeanne then used her banner and jammed it in. Using all her wait, she was able to pop the seal. Her comrades shifted and pulled the massive tile away. Before them lay an ancient brick staircase filled with dust and spiderwebs.

"I think we found it." Jeanne smiled at their success.

"I hate going underground…" The huntress shook her head with a frown.

"I'll lead the way." Artoria offered, and well, Jeanne wouldn't be of any use if they got in close engagements; it was tactically sound.

The three descended down the spiral staircase with a single lit torch to light the way. Jeanne could help but laugh as Atalanta swooshed and hissed as the spider webs. Fear of the underground was confirmed.

About fifty meters down the spiral staircase, Artoria stopped, "We aren't the only one here." She doused the lit torch, much to the dismay of the huntress as Jeanne could see what she meant.

Before them was a large cavern with lit torches. Large indents were hewed into the rocks to the point that these were catacombs if she were to guess. There also appeared to be stone slabs for what appeared to be benches. Forward ahead was an altar off in the distance. There stood a formidable warrior. They were clad in steel plate armor with red outlines and wore a horned helmet like a bull.

Artoria gestured for them to get down as Atalanta drew her bow, finding the darkest spot in case of ambush.

The warrior seemed to oversee five diggers. "Put your backs into it! We don't have all day."

Jeanne gestured for Artoria to follow her over to Atalanta, "Emily isn't with me right now. So communication will be a problem."

"You should have told us before we got here." Atalanta shook her head with a frown.

"Yes… well…"

"We can work around it," Artoria said, her eyes lingering on the warrior.

"I don't even know what we are looking for," Jeanne confessed with a look of doubt.

How could she? She didn't even know this catacomb existed until her own… spirit... showed her.

"Well, whatever it is… we need to do something before.."

"We found something!" A worker shouted.

The knight in armor thudded forward, dropping into the excavation site. Rummaging filled the air as he uncovered a large box and opened it up. "Oh… oh yes… yes we did." He unsheathed his blade, which looked very similar to Artorias in color scheme but encrusted with red gems.

It was a bloodbath mixed with the screams and shouts of those dying. Hacking and slashing, the workers were defenseless. One made it out, climbing his way out. However, the knight was not one to let his work go undone.

With one hand, they jammed the sword into the worker's back and gave a sharp twist of the blade, quickly severing the man's spine.

Whoever… or rather… whatever this monster was, Jeanne was not going to let this stand. The knight stood there holding a glowing piece of crimson cloth. Embroidered on it was a golden sign.

Jeanne instantly recognized it.

Standing up, she dashed forward with her banner tip aimed at the knight. This foul monster would sully such a sacred item! In the blink of an eye and gush of wind, Jeanne was upon the knight.

Only to be side-stepped.

"I'm surprised." The knight said through the horned helmet. "I would have expected you to be here much sooner. Then again, I suppose the Inquisition is getting lazy."

Inqui what?

It didn't matter. Jeanne halted her charge and launched a fury of stabs and swipes. Her arms struck as fast as lightning. Flowing like water, yet powerful and savage. The knight easily countered and danced through the barrage of the deadly attacks. "You monster! You dare defile the Oriflame?!" Jeanne roared with her shower of blows.

The knight continued to weave in and out of the attacks. "You… know… it's funny…" He laughed.

Jeanne didn't care as she swung for the head with murderous intent.

"You claimed you never wanted to kill anyone, but here you are, Jeanne d'Arc, wanting to impale me. Hehehe." The knight chuckled.

A loud metal clang filled the catacombs banner met with a sword, sparks shooting off from metal grinding upon metal. A gridlock between the two, yet Jeanne could feel herself losing to her opponent's weight and strength. A solid kick to the gut sent Jeanne crashing down to the ground.

A sharp whistling filled the air as the knight deflected three arrows tossing them to the ground like mere twigs.

Artoria launched herself at the knight sword clashed with swords. Arcs of sparks filled the air as the ringing of blades filled the catacombs.

A moment where the blades interlocked, a shout filled the air. "EXCALIBUR!" the knight roared. The knight slammed his helmet into Artoria's unprotected face without warning, causing the king to stumble away, clutching her head as blood seeped down.

With a force that shook the ground, the knight launched himself towards Artoria, who was put onto the defensive, doing her best to keep up with the sharp blows of the long crimson sword.

Three metallic pings filled the air as Atalanta shot three arrows, merely bouncing off the armor. Three more arrows were met with a similar result.

Jeanne stood up and charged, hoping to catch the interlope off and give Artoria an opening. The knight's back was turned to her.

Now was her best chance. She leaped in the air bringing her banner. Her movement stopped when she realized the knight caught it with one hand.

Atalanta charged with the twin blade, managing to pierce the elbow that caught Jeanne. He howled in anger as the arm gave out. He swung his sword at Atalanta, connecting and sending her into a stone bench with a loud crash and bloom of dust. The knight sheathed his blade.

"We aren't done here, Artoria. Next time I'll have your head by my feet." As he retreated through the tunnel in the catacombs.

Dropping her weapon, Jeanne rushed over to Atalante. "Are you alright?" She scanned over. She looked at the huntress who clutched her stomach.

She let out a whimper as Jeanne pulled the arm away. The blade seemed to have cut through the armor. Blood poured in a small but constant stream.

"I wasn't… fast enough.." she winced as she saw the wound.

"No… you did great, right Artoria?"

The king nodded with a pained smile. "You made him retreat."

Jeanne peeled back the ripped, bloodstained tunic. The wound looked serious, but thankfully her armor took the brunt of it.

"Artoria, put your hand here."

"Right." The king said as she placed a hand over the gushing wound.

Alright, Jeanne ripped her shawl clasped around her shoulder. Taking the bandage, she wrapped it around her waist.

She ripped it again and moved to wrap Artoria's head wound. With that, the King started to slump. "Who knew getting hurt here would actually hurt?" Atalanta laughed

"It certainly does hurt." Artoria chuckled with a wince..

""Atalanta, I think you will be alright, just don't move, alright?"

The huntress nodded with a pained thumbs up. "Artoria… who was that..?"

The King let out a pained sigh, whether it was mental or physical exhaustion, Jeanne could only guess. "...that was my daughter, Mordred.."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did you bring back the artifact?" The man asked the knight whose arm was being treated.

The person in question shook their head. "Lucky for you, I have a perfect memory. Paris."

The man smiled, "Well, Mordred, that is most excellent to hear. I want you to lead the siege here and crush the Inquisition here. Once and for all. Fire and flame."

The knight smiled with sinister intent. "We are one." The knight stood up as his Lord left the tent. Taking off his helmet revealed a youthful knight, similar in appearance to her father.

Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she whipped the mirror of the tent. She couldn't look at herself in the mirror. No. Not until her father, King Artoria Pendragon, the inhuman tyrant king, was dead at her feet. She stomped out of the tent, mounting her horse.

Two plate-clad knights rushed to her side, "We are riding out. Launch the siege at daybreak."

The battle was over; Artoria was out cold, as was Atalanta. With a heavy sigh, she pleaded with the Lord to forgive her for the outburst of anger. Even in combat, it was not right to let one's emotions get the best of them.

After praying for the dead, she moved to the altar of the ancient church. Seeing pieces of blank parchment, her hand drifted to the paper. Words started to appear in her mind—letters and words she needed to copy.

Looking around, she found a quill and inkwell by the parchment. These must have been for reports. She copied the shapes.

She knew deep down what it said. It was a letter—a letter to the English.

This Jeanne d'Arc, Maiden of Orleans, writing to you, now.

My English Brothers and Sisters, I want to be perfectly clear with you. I've seen my country, and I see dead bodies lying on the ground. The young, and the old, and the healthy, so much pointless hunger, blood, thirst, poverty. Orphans and Widows fill towns in England and France.

All of these things are the offspring of the war and violence that has clutched our two peoples' lands for one hundred years now. I won't say the names of those who are guilty. There are too many.

WE ARE ALL GUILTY! We are all guilty of war and death, always.

In the same way, we can all be guilty of peace, always.

I ask this of you, on a bent knee, I am ready to die for you if only you become guilty of peace.

I always tell the children who ask me, think about all the things that you like. That is God. Children like all sorts of things, but none of them have ever told me that all they desire is war and death.

Now look to whoever is next to you. Look at them with eyes of joy, and remember what Saint Augustine said, 'if you want to see God, you have the means to do so.'

God is love. I, however, will not speak to you about God unless there is peace, because God is peace and peace is God.

Give me peace, and I'll give you God. You don't know how wonderful peace is! How disconcerting peace can be, but I know. Because I saw it as a child, in the farm village of Domremy taking care of farm animals and growing crops. Harvesting food and sitting down with your family, and breaking bread with you, that is peace.

I urge you. Take up the cross of peace and leave this land.

Your sister in Christ,

Jeanne d'Arc, Maid of Orleans.

Hello dear viewers!

I got some exciting news! I got my books, and I'm just like a kid in on Christmas morning! I love them so much! Getting lots of material… :)

Also some personal news, I'm planning on going on a pilgrimage to France during the summer of 2022! I'm super pumped that I found this opportunity! It will be following Joan's life and the hundred years war. And most excitingly, the hotels…. Oh the hotels aren't going to be hotels… they are going to be legit Benedictine and Carmelite monasteries

Anywho, storytime. So we have a new person… Mordred…. And she isn't on the best terms of the whole crew… I wonder how this will mix things up xD. And she hecka op.

So if you enjoyed the story, leave a fav, follow, and/or review. I love to hear from all of you. Also, we reached a thousand views, so I'm pretty happy about that. Thank you, you lovely people. I would still love to hear from you!

Also, I learned of a historical thesis today (skip this part if history bores you) but there was a theory that Jeanne was actually of royal blood line. The bastard of Orleans Theory. Which has been thoroughly debunked by herself and hundreds of witnesses during her retrial. So… yeah.. The only reason this came was because one person claimed she was 25-29 years old rather than 19 during her trial.

When hundreds of other people said, no, she was 19-20ish. So one misquoted person spawned an entire historical thesis… just goes to show to read up and consider all sources and reach for a consensus lol.

As always my dear reader, I am and will always be your most humble and obedient of servants!

Sauron