"Joan was pious and she felt great pity as such massacres. Once, when a Frenchman was leading away some English prisoners, he struck one of the Englishmen on the head so hard that he left him for dead. Joan, seeing this, dismounted from her horse. She had the Englishman make his confession, supporting his head and consoling him with all her power." Lois de Coutes, Joan's personal Page

Chapter 10: Second Siege of Orleans P2: Ice and Fire

Jeanne handed the reins over to the soldier, who was absolutely enamored with her. "Everyone looks up to you in this city." The Huntress observed.

Jeanne nodded, "Indeed." They walked down the main street as Atalanta noticed comrade frowning, "It's… it's a lot of pressure. When I first did any of this…. I was so full of conviction I didn't feel the stress of this…"

Atalanta nodded, understanding, "Are you afraid?"

Jeanne stopped turning to face the Huntress with an anxious look, "Yes, yes I am."

"Good."

It seemed that the maid was caught off guard by her comment; she asked with a confused look, "How is that good?"

"You won't make stupid mistakes," Atalanta stated as a matter of fact. "You also have Artoria and I."

Speaking of which, they found Artoria helping to remove the rubble from a building. She had some serious strength for her slender frame as she hoisted a burnt timber and tossed it away with relative ease. She bent down and searched the rubble for something.

Atalanta and Jeanne walked up through a crowd of villagers, watching the scene very intently. "Take my hand." The King gestured with a worried tone. A small, soot-covered hand reached out and grasped her own.

A few moments later, she produced a young boy in her hands, caked in ash with a broken arm; the distraught boy had tears running down his cheeks as he whimpered in pain. However, in the arms of Artoria, he seemed to settle down alright. "It's alright. You're safe now."

She was caught off guard when the boy hugged her tightly. Jeanne noted how much she was trying to beat back the smile.

The boy's parents were absolutely ecstatic as they rushed up to Artoria, who gently returned the boy to them.

"God bless you! Thank you so much, stranger."

Artoria bowed her head with a faint smile. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

"What is your name…?" The father asked in amazement.

"Artoria." The King said as she stepped down from the pile, "I'm sorry about your house, though."

The elated mother banished the thought. "Who cares about that. You saved my boy!" As the crowd cheered and clapped.

The scene made Atalanta smile, and Jeanne, she couldn't hide her joy at all. Leaving the crowd, the King politely excused herself from the people and reunited with the three. "I wanted to apologize… for my shortness earlier in regards to Mordred..."

"No need to apologize." Jeanne flashed a warm smile. It was certainly odd to see an Englishman... or woman helping French people, but then again, Jeanne hoped that would be the case in the future.

That clearly didn't satisfy Artoria, Atalanta noted to herself.

"It's not kingly for me… I'm just not familiar with dealing with... family issues… I should be above such things." Artoria explained.

That was something familiar Atalanta noted to herself. "Stop with the Kingly nonsense." Atalanta cut in, causing the two to look at the huntress, though by the looks, Artoria might have taken some offense.

"You are a human first and a King second. Everyone makes mistakes. Even kings." Atalanta countered with a calculated cut. "Kings are by far the least perfect."

It seemed Artoria was taking this in with a mix of anger and appreciation. She closed her eyes as if debating how to react.

Now don't pick a fight with a lion. I don't know if I can clean up the mess. Violeta snickered, to which Atalanta hushed.

'She's more civil minded… besides, I could take her.' Atalanta thought.

"Your words… are wise… if not stinging." Artoria nodded

"Just be yourself, first." Jeanne summed Atalanta's harsher advice.

Ironically enough, Atalanta started to wonder if Artoria had a self that was outside of her King. She was always so regal, proper, and stoic, even cold, some would say.

"Are you going to be able to fight… your daughter?" Jeanne asked, hesitantly brushing the subject, lest a new wound is opened.

Artoria nodded, "Yes. She was a mad-dog in the past and is one now."

Atalanta hummed, keeping her judgment first before doing anything. It was wiser to expect the unexpected in the archer's opinion. Especially when it means fighting kin. They were the most dangerous of opponents due to their ability to unhinge you.

"Well, I suppose we should prepare for the assault."

Jeanne sat in the church wiping down her sword, praying to the Lord she didn't have to use it. The blade she found under an altar of Saint Catherine's Church. One that Jeanne felt compelled to seek and claim as her own. "Please…" She whispered as she looked up to the cross, "Please… make them fall back… I don't know if these are real people, if they feel pain, or anything of the sort, but make the bloodshed stop."

"Does he hear you?" Atalanta asked you.

Jeanne looked up to see an interested Atalanta, "I'd like to think so."

"This religion… what do you call it..?"

"Christianity," Jeanne politely answered.

"And your God… what is He the God of…?"

"Everything," Jeanne said as she looked up at the crucifix. The man on the cross staring back down at her.

"Everything? Good and evil?" Atalanta asked, a bit perplexed.

"No, just everything good. Evil just means a lack of good. It's not its own force."

"Hmmm…" The Huntress hummed to herself. There was a heavy pause as Atalanta pondered the words. That was certainly a unique way of viewing things. Definitely different compared to the gods she had known and worshipped. These people believed in one God that made everything good and that all things evil was just a lack of good. She couldn't understand it, but she respected it. Higher beings were often above the minds of mortals.

Artoria stood up from the altar, "I have made my preparations." She said with determination as she walked towards the other two.

Jeanne stood up, sheathing her blade. The day had gone by uneventful, and with little rest, the heroes had prepared themselves. The constant thudding of the trebuchets hitting the wall did not stop. It was unrelenting, slightly shaking the ground.

A knock echoed in the Cathedral, causing the three to look towards the door. After a brief moment, a young knight wearing white armor with golden highlights walked in. His scraggly blonde hair was drenched in sweat. He must have sprinted to get here.

Behind him were the fifty archers that Jeanne had requested. They were lightly armed, with crossbows and short swords, wearing more leather and chainmail than the knight's plated armor. Jean delivered on his promise.

Dusk had come, and the time was to strike. She grabbed her banner and made her way to the staircase with the other two.

"Lady Jeanne," The knight bowed as the fifty archers bent their knees. "I've brought the reinforcements you requested."

"Oh… well," Jeanne stammered, seeing fifty men kneeling before her, "Please… no need to bend the knees. That is only for the King and the Lord. I'm a mere servant."

The men looked at one another, hesitant, as if not wanting to give offense of any sort. They slowly rose, bowing their heads. "Sir, might I ask who you are…?"

The blonde knight's face fell, realizing he insulted the Maid of Orleans, "Lady Jeanne… uhh excuse, my carelessness. My name is Jaune Arc. Uhhh… no relation to you, my Maid, I hail from Aquitaine."

Jeanne reached out, placing a hand on the nervous young knight's shoulder. "It's just Jeanne. Thank you, Jaune."

"Uhh- sure, Jeanne, happy to be of assistance. "

Thus Jeanne laid out the plan during a brief conference of war. They would scout the catacombs out, forge their way through to the other side. Once on the other side, Atalanta would be given command of the archers to harass the camps. At the same time, Artoria and Jeanne snuck in to cause even more chaos. Once the base was distracted, Atalanta would lead the archers to knock out the trebs and link up with Artoria and Jeanne.

"It's a solid plan," Atalanta said as she looked over her counterparts. Supposedly the best marksmen that Orleans could muster. An elite skirmishing force from a land called Provence.

The soldiers were ready; night had fallen. The siege had picked up the pace. It was time to move.

"Lord be with us," Jeanne whispered as she made her descent.

Through the familiar and dusty way down the staircase, they again found themselves in the makeshift church.

"Why would people worship here with all the dead," Atalanta asked as they made their way through the cavernous makeshift church.

"It was a secret place to hide. Romans didn't expect to find Christians in the graveyards." Jeanne explained

"It's also joining with your ancestors in praise of God," Artoria added

Jeanne appreciated Atalanta's questions. It is much like teaching a child. What she didn't enjoy were the dead bodies that were still here, though. She turned to Jaune and the fifty archers. "Remember the all-clear sign?"

The young knight nodded. "God be with you, Jeanne."

The Maid smiled as she turned to the other two. "Let's get going."

Wondering towards the back of the church, they found a small archway, just large enough for them to squeeze through if they ducked their heads. "We'll be entering enemy lines here shortly," Jeanne warned the group.

By the trough of water and the tunnel's roundness, it would be easy to guess they were in the sewer system of the city.

So their foes heard about the relic. Entered through the sewers and entered the catacombs without anyone noticing. It was impressive. Here's to hoping that they wouldn't try and sneak a force and attack from the Church.

The odor of filth saturated the air making Jeanne throw caution to the wind and sprint to just get some fresh air.

There was some rustling down the way. A spark of a torch filled their vision. Artoria silently slid into the fowl water, an impressive feet considering her armour. The archer followed, quietly dipping into the filth of the water.

Exhaling and with a sense of dread, Jeanne joined them. It came up to midchest, and to her surprise, it was freshwater, maybe from an old spring? Yet, she couldn't explain the stench. She couldn't get it, but taking a sip was still very unadvisable.

Atalanta moved forward as Jeanne prepped her banner.

They quietly submerged themselves in the water, popping up when they were past the soldier leading the group.

There were six of them. Artoria nodded towards the both of them.

Atalanta drew one of her short blades and hurled it.

It connected easily, slicing through the chain mail leather armor and pinning him to the wall.

"We're under attack!" A man shouted.

Just then, Jeanne unleashed her standard. Impaling it through the wall as the first soldier who thought his foe was ahead of him. There was no time for maneuvering as he hit his head on the pole and fell into the water, drowning in his gear.

Meanwhile, Artoria launched herself onto the walkway with her blade, slicing through two more guards and impaling a third through the back. Atalanta grabbed the fifth and dragged him into the water, and held the flailing man underwater. His sudden jerking and struggle slowly fading with the bubbles.

"Please…. Please….." the last soldier pinned to the wall begged by the Huntress' sword, "I surrender…"

Jeanne jumped out of the water, grabbing her pole and ripping it out of the wall.

"We will let you go," Jeanne said with a calming voice, trying to soothe the distraught man. "We just need some information."

"S-sure! Anything!"

"What was your plan?"

I… umm… well… we, were supposed… to sneak in… during the middle of the night… Groups of us… until there were thirty…"

Jeanne nodded, urging him to continue.

"We were uhhh…. Uhhh… supposed to uh… city fire to some of the buildings."

"Then what…?" Jeanne tried to remain calm..

"The guards would be distracted, we would kill the gatemen and lower the bridge" the man looked at the three with frantic eyes. "I was only following orders."

"Whose?" Artoria asked, being less sympathetic than Jeanne.

"I don't know her name. She's just known as the Crimson Dragon of England. We've only seen her in armor. Always wears a bull helmet. Never takes it off!"

"I see…" Artoria hummed to herself, "Must be Mordred."

"Thank yo-" Jeanne's eyes went wide with horror.

Blood spurted from a deep gash in his neck, with Atalanta sheathing her other own blade. After removing the first blade that had pinned him, she kicked the body into the water. "What was that for!?" Jeanne roared.

"We don't have time to deal with prisoners," Atalanta explained unapologetically, with the frankness of a cold-blooded hunter.

"That was a person!" Jeanne protested.

"Who could have revealed our position."

Artoria stepped in between the both of them. "Jeanne, I know you don't like killing. And that's admirable, but we're in a war. Atalanta was right."

"I don't enjoy it." Atalanta frowned, "But it needed to be done. I'd rather dirty my hands now than kill more later." The huntress said as she walked away, continuing on the mission without looking back.

That was when Jeanne learned something about one of the heroes she worked with. Atalanta did not take prisoners. She kills because, in her mind, there is no other option. There is a certain resoluteness that Jeanne could admire and despised. It also chilled her to the bone.

It was something that tugged at Jeanne. Artoria, who walked in front of her, was also a killer. She killed people without hesitation, just as she actively saved people. It bothered her.

If only Emily were here. Sifting through some of her old memories, Jeanne felt that Emily was of the same mind as she. Yet Emily was gone. Recovering from a near-invisible fatal blow from Jeanne's simple question.

Ironic… she wanted to save all life, yet she brought death around her. In her former and now present life.

Reaching the tunnel's exit, Atalanta froze and drew her bow; waiting a moment, she notched two arrows. Jeanne gripped her banner tightly, not wanting to be caught unaware.

However, the waiting did not help. She was never one for waiting, yet Atalanta seems to be an expert at it.

Moments went by as she drew back her bow. A lament will be sung for her victims as a quiet snap filled the air. The bow hurled the missiles. At what, Jeanne could hardly guess. She couldn't see anything. "We're clear."

Jeanne sighed with a shake of the head as she whistled. On queue, the fifty archers led by Jeane quietly made their way through the sewers.

Standing up, Atalanta gestured for the group to follow. Upon leaving the sewers, in a bush, were two soldiers impaled in the chest. Atalanta didn't even give a second glance while Artoria sorrowfully shook her head. It must be hard to know that she's fighting her people.

They found themselves on the banks of the Loire River, surrounded by a small thicket of trees. Beyond them up along the river was the massive English camp that stretched out for what must be a mile. Jeanne could only imagine how many English soldiers were here.

"Let's get going," Jeanne suggested, tired of waiting. Each impact she watched from the catapults, the more her blood boiled with anger. There was time to waste. They had their plan.

Atalanta pulled Jeanne back down, "No. we're doing this right. We need to scout the area ahead."

"Sieging us during the night to prevent anyone from sleeping. A cruel tactic." Artoria huffed disapprovingly. "I'd expect no less from Mordred."

"We should wait a few hours. Since they began the siege, they are more alert." Atalanta advised

"Plus, we can scout the positions," Artoria added.

Letting out an annoyed, Jeanne could only go along, it makes excellent sense, but she wanted to get in the thick of things and prevent this from happening.

So then they moved out, following the thicket that opened up to a dirt road. Looking around, there was no hint of any guards.

During the pitch darkness, the three scurried into the tree line where they had better vantage points. Surrounded by all sides, they had an excellent view of the camp. Atalanta scurried up a tree to figure patrols, targets, and the leader.

Jeanne got comfortable watching as the fireballs were flung into the air.

"It's horrible…" Jaune murmured to himself as he watched the fires rage from behind the walls.

"We'll push them back." Jeanne resolved. "Even if it costs me my life."

She turned to face Jaune, "Are your men ready?"

"Yeah, they pitched arrowheads, as you requested."

Jeanne nodded as she leaned up against the tree.

It had been two hours. Jeanne's patience had run its course. No sane person could sit idly by as their home, and their people were slowly dying. The cries of Orleans demanded action. The blood of innocents demanded a stop to this atrocity. Grabbing her banner, she started to move. Jaune and the others began to rouse and pick up their gear, ready to follow their commander.

"Jeanne, we have to be patient." Artoria cautioned.

No words could wait now. The action was needed now.

Artoria grabbed her by the wrist "Jeanne."

"I don't have time." Jeanne protested with a yank of her wrist, "These are my people. They are suffering."

"And rushing in could throw the entire plan and cost more lives." Artoria countered as she stood up.

The Maid knew her friend was right. But the distant thuds were like an all-consuming drum that beat in her heart and mind.

Atalanta dropped down from the tree, sneaky and sly as a cat. "I have basic patrols mapped to our objective. We have a slight problem, though."

Hearing the plan helped Jeanne settle a bit "there is no way for us to knock out the trebuchets without alerting the camp. There are too many."

"We can be the distraction." Jeanne volunteered herself and Artoria who seemed more than eager. It most likely had something to do with getting revenge on Mordred.

"Right," Atalanta said. "I won't be able to move until the camp is stirred."

Jeanne turned to the young knight. "Jaune, take twenty-five of your men and follow Artoria and I. The other twenty-five with Atalanta."

"Right." He said as he oversaw the division of his troops.

She turned and clasped Atalanta's hand. "God be with you." She still might be infuriated with how the huntress treated the surrendering Englishman, but she was still an ally.

Jeanne, Artoria, Jaune, and the twenty-five archers darted across the field and towards the palisade wall that protected the camp. Thankfully, the wooden steaks were pointed upwards a little too high. They were able to slide into the ditch with ease.

Listening to the footsteps on the wooden platform, the guards were easy to locate. It took about five minutes for the guard to return to his spot. It must be a boring night.

As the creaks became fainter and fainter, Jeanne climbed over the barricade and scaled the short wall. The guard approached, lazily whistling a slight tone, noticing the shadow that clung to one of the tents.

Jeanne gulped. She was going to be sending this man to his death. There was no doubt of it. And she hated it with every single fiber of her being.

The soldier walked by, and instead of the initial plan, she went with her own. Swinging as hard as she could, she knocked the man out. Picking him up, she lowered him into the ditch.

Artoria looked up at her with confusion, then proceeded to plunge her blade into the man, "Artoria!" Jeanne hissed loudly.

Her blade froze above the man's neck.

"Don't kill him!"

"What?!" Artoria hissed back

"He already knocked out. He won't be a problem."

Artoria scowled, "what if he wakes up?"

"We can tie him up and gag him. He has a belt.

Artoria looked scowled but relented. She sheathed her blade, tied the guard up, and gagged him with some cloth from his clothing.

With a huff, Artoria was in the encampment. "We can't keep doing that." She pointed a sharp finger at her. Jaune and his men slowly made their way up the wall.

"Well, we saved a life." Jeanne nodded towards the man that was hog-tied.

"We are at war, Jeanne. People will die." Artoria shook her head in disappointment.

"I will not be the reason for their death if I can help it."

Artoria shook her head, "That's selfish Jeanne, when it cost the lives of those whom you love." She gestured to the twenty-five French soldiers.

Having enough of this, Jeanne waved her banner. Brief specks of orange, almost like firebugs, filled the dark night. These specks filled the air as she watched as fire arrows started to rain on the camp. "Artoria. I'm well aware of that, but please don't lecture me on that. One day it will help you more than you know."

Firebolts rained into the camp, cutting through the tents as they slept comfortably, setting them ablaze. What turned out to be a small flame turned into fire, then into a raging inferno in mere minutes.

The fire grew as the wind kicked up. Spreading from one tent to another tent, so on and so on. Until half the camp was engulfed in flames

"FIRE!" a shout rose up, causing the men to stir from their fireplaces and tents. They desperately tried to put out the fire, for it only raged harder.

Jeanne dashed from one tent to another until she noticed one particularly large tent crimson, slightly elevated on a deck. That had to be Mordred's tent

Artoria must have noticed because she threw caution to the wind and started walking towards, sword in hand. Jeanne turned to Jaune, "Cause as much mayhem as you can. Don't kill unless it's necessary."

The knight bowed and led his men through the camp. Turning her gaze back to Artoria she jogged up to her. The people who got in the way of the King were hacked down instantly and without her breaking stride.

She left a trail of dead or dying men in her path as she made her way to the command tent.

Following behind her and the trail of blood, they found themselves within the tent. Jeanne braced herself for the inevitable combat. Praying that Atalanta could complete their mission.

Stepping in. There was no one. It was relatively sparse with a makeshift bed, a table, and an armor stand. Not much for the heir of a king.

Picking a piece of parchment, she read through the contents. "Duke of Bedford… the king has requested you to move your forces to Paris and to begin your search. He will be waiting for the results in Rouen. Mordred will crush Orleans with the Burgundians, and we will claim France….." She read out loud, "Over my dead body..." She murmured.

A shiver ran down her spine. "Yes. Over your dead body. She felt a metal plate slam into her throat as she was dragged into a hold by a powerful soldier.

She couldn't breathe.

"Good of you to join us, Father." The knight as she pulled tighter, causing Jeanne to squirm more.

Jeanne could see the utter rage in Artoria's eyes. It was like a dragon stirring to life. "Mordred." The coldness in her voice could have quickly dropped the temperature several degrees. "Let her go."

The grip got tighter as Jeanne started to kick underneath. Nothing budged this mountain of steel. "Come now, father…." The voice oozed with venom, "That's not how you greet family."

"Let. Her. Go." Artoria roared as she dashed forward, knocking the table over with ease.

Mordred dashed outside of the tent with Jeanne still in her arm.

Can't breathe… Can't breathe… it's the fire all over again. It's the fire. Heat. Fire…

"It's funny, how you care more about a complete stranger you would never have met in our actual lives than you do for your own daughter."

Fire… Fire… hot… things were getting hazy. Artoria dashed forward again, sword aimed for her helmet.

That was when Mordred through her, almost like she was a rag doll. There was no room for maneuver. Artoria's blade cutting deeply into Jeanne's side at full speed sent her into the ground after several tumbles.

"YOU MONSTER!" Artoria roared in anger as she stepped back.

"Says the one who never showed an ounce of love to anyone. Let alone her family." Mordred countered as she drew her blade, "It's time to end your mythical legend and send you back to the void where you belong."

Running her hand to her side, she winced at the pain. Blood oozing out, more like pouring out "Jeanne!" Artoria rushed back, standing between the two of them, "Jeanne!"

There was a ringing in her ears as Jeanne stared up at the night sky, her body screaming in pain yet feeling colder and colder.

"...I will have much to do and more than I ever had, and tomorrow blood will leave my body…" Jeanne d'Arc

Hello dear readers!

It feels like it's been forever xD. I was a bit slow this week, work was dragging on and I was pooped. But I managed to crank this out. I'm on the fence about this chapter, but let me know what you think.

Man… Atalanta…. Is pure ruthless, I love it xD And Artoria… I would hate to get in her way when she is mad. Mordred done messed up, I'd say…

Also, as you see, Jeanne really really really hates the idea of killing. And from my reading, that's actually true. She stated during her trial, that she loved her banner more than her sword because she could not kill anyone with it… which as we will see, will definitely lead to some tension.

You think she's sticking to her principles or being naive? Let me know.

Reviews!

Tobi: Hi there mate! Great to see ya around! This story has been a blast to write and got me back into writing! And yeah, Assassin's Creed definitely was a huge inspiration. I had this idea for a while while playing Valhalla, but I recently… or I guess a few months ago, picked up Odyssey and I'm like oh shoot inspiration! I'm truly glad you like it so far and I hope I can keep making it worthwhile to read xD

As always, if you liked the chapter, please feel free to fav, follow, and/or review, Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Got thoughts, feedback, ideas, suggestions, theories, reactions, share em! I love to hear all of it.

I am and will always be your most humble and obedient of servants.

Sauron