Joan, you are being put on trial for the twelve points, including the following

1. Joan pretends to have had visions: that Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and Saint Margaret appeared to her in the flesh, and that their revelations enabled her to know the future.

2. She wears male clothing and has taken part in wars and battles.

3. She claims to be in a state of grace and certain of her salvation.

4. She refuses to submit her acts and beliefs to the jurisdiction of the Church Militant.

Chapter 13: Et Tu Brute?

Three days had passed since the shock to her system, so coming out of the grogginess, Jeanne found herself in a bed. Her head pounded away like someone was hitting it with a war-hammer. "The doctor explained it was your mind reconnecting with Emily's."

Tired amethyst eyes looked over to see Artoria there, reading a book. A Complete History of England. It said read—that kind of caught her off guard.

"I never pictured you as the reading type." Jeanne laughed weakly.

"True… I never had time for it while I was alive. At least now, I have some time for it." Artoria confessed, putting down the book. "How are you feeling?" She asked with concern, "You were wounded pretty seriously."

"Your daughter…. Can pack quite a powerful punch." Jeanne groaned, still feeling the aches of her body and mind.

"That she can…" Artoria whispered quietly. The concern twisted itself to scowl deepened at the thought of Mordred. Best not to mention that. She seems pretty upset.

Jeanne sat up with a wince, pulling herself by the metal railings on the bed, ignoring the protest of her wound. 'Emily?! Is that you?!'

I'm back… and I see you run amuck with our body. Jeanne could tell she was joking, but it stung a bit.

Looking down, she could her side stitched up. Placing her hand at the site where she was cut open by Mordred now was a line of stitches. Jeanne saw the handiwork of Mordred, and how it was translated to this life. "Dr. Anders was able to get you situated pretty quickly." Artoria changed the subject.

Maybe that was true, but it still didn't help with the different colors, sickly yellow, dark purple, and brown. It was a rather disgusting rainbow that surrounded the stitching.

"It is good to see that you are well." Jeanne looked up, "How is Atalanta?"

"Both of them are sleeping. Apparently, Atalanta has been watching us like a hawk for the past two days." Artoria crossed her arms, "I don't think she trusts the doctor."

He was pretty eccentric when they first met. Gathering her strength, Jeanne swung her legs over the bed to the startlement of Artoria. "Now… now, don't be hasty." She cautioned.

Brushing aside the concern, she stood up on weak knees, nearly collapsing to the ground. Artoria was about to step in when she received a hand. She channeled her strength into her arms, hoisting herself back up to her wobbly feet. You really shouldn't push yourself.

Maybe she shouldn't, but after her own failure at the hands of Mordred, well… she wasn't going to let that happen. Taking several steps, using the countertop of the table, she made her way out in the hallway. Thankfully that hallway had wooden railings to help recovering patients. Standing up, Jeanne braced herself along the wall, feeling her strength return slowly return. "Artoria…"

"Hmm?" She gave an inquisitive look.

"Promise me you'll let go of that hate." Jeanne turned to face her friend, "I heard the pain in your heart. Please… let go of it."

Artoria looked away. Masking any emotions. "That is none of your concern, Jeanne."

"I beg your pardon," Jeanne placed a gentle hand on Artoria, "but it is our concern… we're allies, no? That kind of hate… it will consume you, I'd don't want to see it. I've seen it too many times."

"Jeanne…" Artoria warned with a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

Jeanne… please stop pushing it.

She refused, though. This was her friend, and she wouldn't let hate consume her friend. "It affects us as a team."

"Team? All you did was allow yourself to be captured while Atalanta and I accomplished anything of note. You were just captured." Artoria hissed as she pulled away from the hand.

Jeanne's eyes went wide. "Wha…" She couldn't understand the words her friend had just spoken. They were filled with much cruel venom that punctured Jeanne's heart and soul.

"It was your pacifism that got you captured. How many times now? Three times, now? Once leading to your death, here, you almost died twice." Artoria shot back angrily, taking a step back. "You would think that would teach something to a foolish peasant child who lacks even basic education. You weren't meant for war, so stop playing at it. You are utterly useless."

Jeanne took several steps back, not believing what she was hearing. "That… that... This isn't you…" Her legs gave out as she fell to the ground, her arm clutching the guard rail as it was the only lifeline Jeanne had left.

Artoria left without saying anything, her heavy footsteps the only thing that filled the void of the deafening silence. On the ground, Jeanne felt her heart seize up. "I'm useless…" She repeated. The words dug their daggers deeper into her chest. "I'm useless…"

The pain of those words felt like an anchor, dragging her down to a pit where she would never resurface. "Lord, am I truly useless…"

That…. That was…. Uncalled for. Emily's voice reassured her. You shouldn't have pushed on it… but still, that was… just uncalled for.

Her nonviolence… threw their plan out the window. If she was strong enough to take life…

No… Jeanne corrected herself; life was not for hers to take, only the Lord's will. She did her best not to harm a soul. Yet war was always a bloody affair. She led troops; she didn't fight.

"Ung," She grunted with pain as she hoisted herself up to her feet. No. She was a general of France; she was a commander.

But that sinister thought whispered its evil thoughts. They took root as Jeanne did her best to brush them away as she walked down the hallway. Yet the venom kept dripping in the back of her mind.

Jeanne walked into the 'mess' hall to find it unusually tidy. Stepping in, the lights flickered on overhead the downcast young woman. "I never… maybe she was right…?" She murmured to herself as she walked, giving voice to the hurt the venom had drawn out.

Moving into the common room, she sat down with some minor discomfort.

Emily reminded her. You thought it yourself… You didn't fight, you led France. You were the fire behind France defeating the English. She said those things out of anger. They don't mean much.

That… wasn't true… Artoria found that a person's heart is revealed amid passion. And maybe she was just playing at war. Like the helpless little child, she was.

Well, screw her. The Jeanne I know was brave, skilled, and adept at warfare. You defeated the English at Orleans, the dozens of towns afterward, and you threatened Paris. PARIS!

"I sat on a horse waving a banner," Jeanne murmured defeatedly.

You're modest now. You convinced Charles to lend you troops. You scouted ahead to bring supplies to a besieged city by sailing in. Not to mention, you drew up countless battle plans and siege lines. Let's not forget how you single-handedly drove the French strategy. Who can claim that you didn't do anything.'

Jeanne shook her head, "Clearly Artoria."

Even if you were a peasant, you were… no… you are so smart!

"That's all God's doing. He told me the plans, and I just followed with them."

Even still, God would have to start with somewhere, no? He gave you the intellect and innate strategic mind. Not to mention your wit when it came to the trials.

She felt a slight nudge to her shoulder; she looked up to see herself smiling back at herself. It was a confident smile. It was a smile that asked Jeanne to trust Emily when she couldn't trust herself.

Jeanne sighed. She could appreciate what Emily was doing… but nothing removed the dagger in her heart. She would have expected such comments from Atalanta, but from Artoria… her ally… no, friend… it stung.

She didn't want to feel the dagger made her realize how genuinely fragile she was. "Hey, Emily?" Or maybe the daggers of friends were much sharper than expected.

The mental image of her raised an eyebrow. Hmmm?

Jeanne moved to sit down, resting her exhausted legs. However, she noticed the pain in her side had lessened up very much. "I'd like to know what happened to my family… after my uh…"

Emily sat down beside her; if you'd like, I introduce you to reading… we could maybe then read some of the transcripts of your brother.

The maid nodded her head as she let out a yawn. "I'd like that very much." She could feel herself drifting off to sleep. "Could you tell me a story about my family?"

Emily laughed. You remind me so much of a child right now.

Jeanne could help but giggle as Emily nodded. Sure.

Artoria.

She walked into her room.

Artoria

She closed the door behind her.

Artoria.

She walked over to her desk and picked up a book.

Artoria.

Opening up to the page she left off.

Artoria.

"What?"

What was that?

"What?" She asked with an annoyed huff.

You tore into Jeanne for no reason at all.

"I'm aware." And by extension, her master would also realize how deeply she regretted the comments she gave. Why? Why was she getting more and more unhinged?

She never liked this. Even… in death at the hands of Mordred…

She is a capable commander. She defeated an army three times the size of her own.

It felt like salt being poured into a wound.

"Leave me be, Ava. I do not need a lecture right now."

Just as quickly she said, Dr. Ava was gone. Totally absent. Being alone with her thoughts. Mordred. My daughter.

Even just thinking those thoughts, she was filled with disgust, such anger, but also longing and sadness. Why now? Why now of all things?

She couldn't put these emotions to the side. She was weak now. She slammed her book closed and threw it across the room. Exhaling slowly, she closed her emerald eyes. "Is this how a king of England acts?" She reminded herself.

Ata wake up.

The woman rolled over, draping a pillow over her head. Atalanta… time to get up. Do you think that's really going to stop me?

"Five more minutes."

You said that the past hour. Get up, please.

The huntress removed the pillow, looking straight up at the ceiling.

You've been sleeping three days straight—time to get up.

With a huff of annoyance, Atalanta looked up. There is no way three days have gone by.

Well, you barely slept the first day. I imagine your exhaustion level was pretty high.

"Good reason to stay in bed." She grumbled.

Get. Up.

With a reluctant sigh, she sat up, feeling her back crack. "Wow…" she murmured to herself. Guess it was true… she had slept for three days.

With a yawn, she went to the bathroom, fumbling with modern conveniences while still in a half-awake stupor.

What should have taken a few minutes took an hour, especially the shower. After cleaning herself and putting on a set of clothes, she stepped out into the hallway.

It was eerie. This place always gave her a bad feeling. The vibes were never good. Walking down the hall, the only thing she could hear was her own boots.

Peeking into the science room, no one was there. Continuing down the hall, she was in the mess hall and common room. But no one.

Fixing herself a bowl of *cereal* Atalanta was advised to eat the cinnamon toast crunch. Though she stayed far away from the Apple Jax.

Pouring milk over and taking a bite of the cereal, she fell in love with the powdery but rich sweetness mixed well with the crunch.

Walking around the room while eating her cereal, Atalanta's inquisitive nature took over as she went through each part of the room. Inspecting the 'ten is' table, she flicked the net to her amusement.

Walking around hse found a strange green table with light fur. The table had six holes in it. Pool table, though it didn't look practical to swim in.

A small library was full of books. Looking through them, she could see several were missing.

She noted a strange black window that did not lead anywhere hung upon the wall. Television… an interesting device that played pictures and sounds. She would have to give that a try.

Taking the last bite of her cereal, she drank the milk and washes the bowl. Taking mental note that that type of cereal was her go-to now.

Atalanta wandered through the halls, deafly as a shadow. Listening intently for any signs of life. The snoring of Dr. Anders was almost in sync with the ventilation system.

So doctor Anders was asleep.

Not a stirring from the Artoria room. She might be a sound sleeper, or she was not in her room.

However, a rhythmic crinkling could be heard from Jeanne's room, indicating there was some kind of life, despite the last time she saw her.

She was about to knock, her hand just hovering from the door. Why am I hesitating?

Just knock.

Get sitrep at the very least.

She's a stranger, don't get attached. Attachments are a weakness.

Now now. Voleta's some with a certain sarcasm. Not everyone is out to get you.

Well… yes and no.

Look at Jeanne. You think she has a motive?

"No.."

Give her some benefit of the doubt. I'm not saying go out of the way or anything. Exhaling, she tapped the door thrice times.

"Coming." Jeanne's ever gentle voice replied back… yet it was tinged with a bit of sadness.

The door opened to reveal a downcast Jeanne.

"Oh…" she didn't seem to expect her, "hello, Atalanta." She tried to put up a cheerful front with a smile.

"Jeanne, how are you? I expected you to still be in bed." Atalanta raised an eyebrow.

The woman laughed nervously as she stepped aside, gesturing for Atalanta to come in. It was an empty room with some carpets, though she did notice a cross of their god on a nightstand.

"I don't know… I just have been feeling my strength return." Her voice dropped when she realized, "Pardon me for the mess…"

What mess?

That's when she saw several books scattered on the floor. "I've been honing my reading skills…" she murmured sheepishly as she sat down at the center of the pile of books.

Atalanta nodded as she sat down. Picking up a book. "One...fish… two….. fish….. red… fish… blue fish…..?"

Atalanta looked up, half startled, then back at the oddly colored book of fish.

"I take it you weren't able to read either…"

Atalante thumbed through the pages of the book, "No… I… was never given that opportunity. Not a lot of people could in my time." She was in amazement of the illustrations, how the words came together almost like a puzzle to explain each scene…

"It's odd how we can read English… I wonder if you would be able to read Greek."

Atalanta snapped the book closed with a thud, "I want nothing to do with Greece."

Jeanne looked a bit startled, pulling away slightly. "I… well… um… I'm sorry, I didn't want to… well... I didn't mean to bring anything up."

She studied the Maiden. She seemed genuinely distraught at the comment. Unfolding her arms, she decided to let the issue drop. "You're doing better?" She asked.

Jeanne seemed to perk up a little by that. She nodded slightly, lifting up her shirt around the wound. "It's practically healed after the operation." Besides the stitches and slight discoloration, her injury was pretty much healed.

"Remarkable." Atalanta looked at her in amazement before realizing that she, too, was wounded. Still, she had no physical reaction to it.

"Speaking of which." Jeanne spoke up somewhat nervously, "I… well.. Uh, I wanted to thank you… I heard you were watching over both Artoria…" Her voice suddenly dropped to whisper of her name, "and I."

Atalanta shrugged, "You did it for me. We're allies, no? Allies stand watch for each other." Though to be fair… she didn't have to go through the electroshock, but hey, have to everything once.

Even though it was a rather… difficult… experience, she shuddered at the thought. Jeanne stared at her with a bewildered state. "We're not in a warzone, though."

"Allies watch each other, on and off the field," Atlanta stated as a matter of fact. Did she not do this for her soldiers?

"Well…" Jeanne stammered, scratching her head nervously, "I… well… thank you… it was nice of you."

"Well. I am glad you are doing better." Atalanta picked up another book, trying to ignore the compliment, "Has Artoria recovered from her mind sickness…?" She asked as she thumbed through the colorful pictures. Apparently, it was the story of some hairy creature called the Lorax.

There was only silence as Atalanta looked up. She could see how Jeanne immediately deflated at the mention of their other comrade.

"She has… but…" She held back, biting her lip,

"But…"

Closing the book in Jeanne's hand, gently laying, the Maid shook her head sadly. "She… said some harsh things.."

Strange... Atalanta hummed in thought, "what did she say."

The saddened look on Jeanne's face faded into a look of self-contempt. "Well… that… I am a stupid peasant girl who was foolish to play at war. She pointed out how I was easily captured in battle three times now." Venom oozed with the words, whether it was meant for Artoria or herself, she guessed herself.

"Hmm…" it wasn't like Artoria to snap out of nowhere, especially like that… unless, "what did you say to her?"

"I asked her to let go of her hate for her daughter…"

That would do it.

Atalanta nodded. "It seems… that family is a sore spot for Artoria."

Jeanne sighed, "family should never hate each other. The hate in her voice." Jeanne shook her head.

"Your heart is in a good place, but some challenges are left to the individual."

"Yes… but…"

Atalanta shook her head, "No. It is her struggle to deal with. Royalty and family don't mix." She closed her eyes, "At best, you are a symbol; at worst, you are a tool to be used. While I can't say for certainty, I believe the case between her and Mordred is an issue of what they represent. Artoria doesn't seem to be the type to use people."

Jeanne nodded slowly, "Though I have to ask, am I useless…. Because I avoid bloodshed on the battlefield?"

That was a unique question; all combat styles had strengths and weaknesses. Atalanta knew she could outrun anyone and shoot targets with nearly inhuman precision. Still, up against someone like Mordred… well, she was just a flea.

Jeanne's style was most certainly…. The most unique she's ever seen.

"Well, yes…"

She frowned, looking away,

"And no."

Her gaze lifted upward with a confused look.

"All combat methods have strengths and weaknesses. You raise morale with your banner. Those knights looked up to you, and that is power. However, seeking to incapacitate an opponent is often easier said than done, but you seem quite adept at it."

"I… see…"

"Don't take her words to heart." Atalanta said as she stood up, "my assessment of you still stands, but even for a peasant girl, you are a remarkable warrior and brilliant strategist."

Jeanne studied her with a blank expression, as if weighing everything that she said, she accepted it. "Thank you, Atalanta."

The Huntress merely smiled, allowing, just for once, the appreciation to sink in. "It was fun reading with you. I would like to very much do this again."

She seemed delighted to hear that, "Sure! But if I might ask, where are you going?"

"I'm going to be hunting for Artoria."

Jeanne seemed to hesitate but reluctantly accepted, determining that it would be pointless to stop her. With that, Atalanta closed the door behind her, sensing that Jeanne was in higher spirits.

Next on her list was the King. The King held herself to her ridiculous code of honor. With Jeanne, she was naive and innocent and wasn't jaded by the world. Atalanta looked down, and yet at the same up to Jeanne, she still appreciated that kind of innocence.

What Atalanta could not stand was hypocrites. Especially hypocrites to attack an innocent person like Jeanne. Listening carefully, she felt the ground reverberate slowly. A distant metallic click. A soft pang.

Easy.

The gun range.

Hello!

As always my dear readers, it is a pleasure. Okay, lets talk about a certain trial because I need REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE at the English.

As we all know Jeanne d'Arc was found guilty of heresy, and burnt at the stake by the English secular powers. Time to historical rant now.

This was such a political trial under the guise of heresy. There were numerous irregularities that would make the trial null and void. Jeanne should have been found innocent duh. Let's get into it.

First, the handling of Jeanne, a prisoner. This alone warranted the dismissal of the trial. Because this was an inquisitorial trial, she should have been imprisoned in a Church prison (which was a VERY REAL and EXPECTED thing to do) But instead, she was held in a English prison, guarded by men. KEEP THIS IN YOUR MIND.

Second: The grounds of where the trial made it null and void. The judges were not valid judges. A. They were biased parties leaning towards the English and Burgundian political parties. B. A trial of heresy can only be conducted in two places. The diocese in which the person was baptized or where heresy was committed. Jeannne was nowhere even close to Rouen at the time of her capture. This would have been enough to dismiss the trial.

Third: Joan actively submitted herself to the judgement of the Church, but not to the judges. She requested that the Pope oversee the trial. The person being put on trial had the ability to request that the Pope personally oversee the trial IF there were any irregularities on trial proceedings. It would then be the duty of the court to request for Papal oversight. This happened numerous times in the Church's history. Jeanne knew it, and requested, yet this request flat out was denied.

Fourth: The clerks only recorded pro-English accounts and testimonies. Half of Jeanne's answers weren't recorded. There are three accounts, thankfully, there were three clerks that recorded some responses that were suspiciously left out of the English minutes (that were used to condemn her.)

Fifth: The charges were not thoroughly explained to her. The points must be made clear to the person on trial and their testimonies must be written down clearly and precisely to determine if the person has committed some heretical crime. Again, a lot of Jeanne's answers were not recorded.

Sixth: She was intimidated to sign a document (which Jeanne used a false signature to deny the charges, while at the same time to save her life) The person put on trial must be found A. Guilty of heresy or the person must be repentant of their errors freely and without coercion. This kind of hard to do… when they dragged her out into a courtyard, tied her up, and threatened to burn her on the spot. She reluctantly signed the document, against her own will. Now… that being said, she used a false signature that Jeanne used on military campaigns that alerted her allies that the contents of the document was tampered, untrue, or enemy propaganda. Jeanne was illiterate, but she knew how to sign her name. The English didn't know this, so when they saw the circle with cross, they accepted it. However, Jeanne's friends would have understood the true meaning of the signature.

Seventh: Hearing how God was very angry with her for signing the document that lied about her visions and voices from God, she immediately recanted, and claimed she was forced to do so (A fact left out by the English)

Eighth: With her "admission of guilt." the trial would have been over, and she should have been set free. Instead, she was sentenced to life imprisonment. Another irregularity

Ninth: Because it was a religious court, her sentence and punishment were religious by nature. Thus her sentence SHOULD have been carried out in a Church prison. It wasn't. Jeanne requested that she be transferred over to said Church prison (under guard by women) keep that in mind as well.

Tenth… and this one truly broke my heart….. My heart truly goes out to Saint Jeanne d'Arc. One of her conditions that she be spared is that she wear women's clothing. Which she started. However… she was handed over and guarded by the English… and this where we get two different accounts of what this pious woman was forced to endure… The English knowing the conditions of her imprisonment…. One account told that she was denied any clothing, and forced to be naked in prison, surrounded by English guards, the same guards, who hated her and beaten her… Jeanne was naturally a pious and modest woman, and she was forced to stay naked in front of these men… it's not hard to imagine what could have happened… so she wore the only clothes that she wore that they gave her… men's clothing.

A second account details how an English lord forced himself upon her when she wore women's clothing in prison… so to prevent that from happening, she wore men's clothing. The English guards reported this to her judges and there was a retrial. All of her testimonies regarding why she wore the clothing were watered down or left out entirely, as the trial was held in her prison cell, and she was found guilty and sentenced to death.

And this woman went stoically to her death, praising God and repenting mightly, lest she offend the Lord. She died with the Lord's name being proclaimed to her very last breath, as a dove emerged from the fire flying towards France. No one rejoiced at this woman's death… even the English soldiers shed tears at her death. Many repented, knowing they just condemned an innocent pious twenty-year-old woman to death on trumped-up charges.

Her three main judges would lives of wealth under the protection of the English. Until God struck at them. The head judge, Bishop Cauchon, died suddenly while having his beard trimmed by a barber. One disappeared for many days only to be found dead in a city gutter, the last contracted leprosy, dying an agonizing death in a leper house. All the while, Joan's prophecy that the English would lose so much that it made Orleans look like a joke. They lost nearly all of their French holdings within 7 years after Joan's death.

Why did I lay all this out? Well, I consider Joan to be a patron saint of mine, whom I refer to as my "heavenly sister." She's been looking out for me and I can feel her presence in my life. I owe it to my "sister" to tell her side of things.

This young woman, a peasant girl from a backwater nowhere, who saved France was treated so unjustly and denied certain basic rights because of politics. She went through so much and endured so much with grace, cunning, and wit, that flabbergasted her judges. And yet they tricked her into signing a document (which is disputed by historians) and put her through things that most of us can't even imagine in prison, only to be found guilty and burnt at the stake for wearing men's clothing… a choice she didn't really have.

And how did she go out? She went out boldly and stoically, with love and compassion towards her captors. She didn't curse a single man. The tears she shed was for the people who condemned her and for the salvation of her soul.

As we enter Easter, if you're religious, if you're not religious, we can all learn something from Jeanne d'Arc's life and her trial. Face the trials you go through, big or small, with courage, wit, and humility. We face things in life, and sometimes we are dealt unfairly by others, that's a fact, but never, ever give up. Even if we may lose, and all seems lost, we can still win in ways we can't imagine. Look at Saint Jeanne, she had a retrial and found innocent, and then proclaimed a saint in 1920. No peasant girl can claim that they altered the course of history, no one could have foreseen this. Yet here we are, religious, secular, generations have been touched by her courage and her story.

Saint Jeanne d'Arc pray for us. Happy Easter

Your's truly,

LordxSauron