Chapter 7: The Return

Trotting through the forest, sixteen soldiers staggered behind two knights and a nobleman who rode on horseback. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. They came across a band of Burgundians that seemed to have plundered some French farms, apparently they had stolen two horses.

The head knight is a middle-aged man who grew tired of war and defeats. Lifting up his visor, he wiped away the sweaty bangs that burned his exhausted walnut-colored eyes. "Jean, cheer up, we have a small victory to celebrate." His compatriot slapped him on the back with a resounding thud.

"It is true…" The knight said as he turned around to see the wagon they had hitched together. "I just hope it was worth it. Please Bertrand, tell me, seeing the sorry state of these farmers, was it worth it?"

Bertrand de Poulengy, a robust and thick man, well built with muscle and short, nodded, "I'd say so. These supplies will help Vacouleurs last another couple of months, right Sir Royer?"

The nobleman, wearing a simple chainmail coat with a crimson hat and blue plumed feather, nodded. "Aye, I'd say we could last another four months." The man removed his cap and straightened his hair lest a strand of hair be out of place, even out in the field.

"Well, we even have two sturdy horses that should fetch a handsome price. It is a shame that their owners were most likely slain." Jean sighed as he saw a black and a brown horse. "A shame."

Betrand shrugged, "Our gain, besides we avenged them."

Trotting through the woods, they came out to the fields of Vacouleurs. "Oh… that's different…" Bertrand murmured.

Jean looked up to see the gates of their town lowered. Several large wagons were out in the shanty village that had developed outside the walls. Leaning forward and squinting, he could see people on the wagon giving out food.

"Huh…" Jean tilted his head, "That's a sight." He could hear the cheers and shouts of joy.

"That's my food!" The noble Royer shouted as he started to gallop towards the town.

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The morning sun had crept up as two violet eyes slowly opened as she wiped away the sleep from her eyes. A bit confused, she looked up to see her brother curled up into a little ball when she realized she accidentally took most of the bed. "Jeanne. You must stir! The hungry of Vaucoulier need your help."

Whipping around, she saw Saint Catherine sitting on her bed. Her dazzling robes fell to the ground, warming the cold wooden floor. "Oh!" Jeanne exclaimed.

"Mrrrrrrrr…." Pierre grumbled as she clamped her mouth shut.

Catherine chuckled at the young blonde's embarrassment, "I suppose I should have announced my arrival. But I do love surprises." The Saint shrugged.

Jeanne's tiredness faded with the snap of the finger as she turned to face her heavenly friend.

"Dear Catherine. I've missed you! Do you have news of my beloved sister, my parents, or Domremy?!" Her voice crescendo as her questions raced by.

"Mrmrph…" Pierre pulled the covers over his head as Catherine hushed Jeanne.

"Be at peace, my little shepherdess. Your family and friends are well and under the protection of Michael. Not a strand of hair shall be harmed on either of their heads. Your sister has a surprise for the next time you meet."

Jeanne's eyes widened with excitement, "We are to meet again? When?" She whispered loudly.

Catherine paused a moment with a certain mischievous smile, "Oh dear Jeanne, if I were to tell you when, won't it ruin the surprise? Rather if you meet her at a most unexpected time, won't it increase the sweetness?"

"Indeed it would…" Her smile faltered with a sense of longing.

"Be at ease, it will happen." Catherine stood up, placing a hand on Jeanne's shoulder.

Jeanne looked up to the saint with a smile, "Indeed. I have faith in my Lord and my God. Thank you, Catherine. But you are here on important business?"

The Saint nodded as she walked over to the window and peered out. She gestured for the shepherdess to see. "God has heard the lamentations of the people of this good town. He has witnessed you stand up to the good lady of Royer. He now wants you to distribute the food."

Jeanne looked out the window to see ten wagons full of food and provisions, "Me?" She asked as she looked out the window. "I possibly couldn't… I just want the people to be fed…"

"And so they shall be." Catherine practically sang, "It is by the hand of the Maid of Lorraine, they shall be fed."

Jeanne frowned at the title as she placed a hand on the window, "Catherine…"

"Hmmm?"

"Why do you insist on calling the Maid? Lady Royer plans on using that title as well. I do not like it."

The Saint tapped her chin in thought as if pondering what to say. Jeanne looked up.

"Titles of grandeur inspire others to fight. Do you not feel honored to fight for the King of Heaven?"

"Absolutely." Jeanne replied quickly, dispelling any doubt.

"Won't common soldiers be honored to fight under the Maid of purity, a messenger of God, the Lord's captain?"

Jeanne's confidence was quickly shaken, "Well… that I can't attest to."

"To these people, you will be the Maid sent from God to free them. Be that Maid in your conduct with the people. Be Joan to your friends and family."

"Are you telling me to be two different people…?" Jeanne questioned hesitantly.

"You'll find that they are two sides of the same coin. One can't be without the other."

Pondering this in her heart, she looked back out the window, placing her hand on the window. The coldness of the glass was refreshing. "I will…" She turned to face her saintly sister to see that she was gone. "Do my best…" She whispered.

I know.

Turning around, Joan moved beside her brother who looked like a balled up caterpillar with blankets. "Pierre…" She gently shook.

"Mrrrpgggg" He grumbled.

Sighing to herself with a smile, she shook again, "Oh Pierre…." Her voice grew a little louder. "Sleeping like a rock are we…?"

Pondering her next move, she sat down on her bed. Saint Catherine didn't have to worry about her brother waking. Boulders can't be woken. Well… here goes nothing… She cupped her mouth and inhaled sharply

"PPPPIIIIIEEEEERRRRRREEEE!"

The boy shot up and fell to the ground in a pile of blankets and pillows much to the amusement of Jeanne. Two tired hazel eyes looked up, as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, "Oh…." He murmured in half comatose state, "Morning, Jeanne."

"Good morning, Pierre." Her sister smiled back, trying to stifle the giggles.

"Wha…" He looked down at the floor with a confused look, "What am I doing down here…"

Offering him a hand, she hoisted her brother up, "You fell off your bed. It's to be up and about. We have a great many things we have to attend to!"

The sleepy Pierre turned to look out the window, "But it's not even dawn…"

"It matters not." Jeanne stood up with a certain energetic gusto, "We have a great many things to do, today!"

She grabbed a simple change of dress and headed out, trusting that her brother would be ready. With the door closed behind her she exhaled. "Alright… Jeanne…" She whispered to herself, "if it's God's will, I can do it." She repeated to herself as she made her way to the washroom.

Some time, Jeann was out, wearing a simple red dress with her homily violet apron that matched her eyes. Opening the door, she looked down the hall, she smiled to see her brother was also ready, sporting a simple white linen shirt with trousers. "So… what are we doing?" He asked.

"We're going to feed the people." She said as they descended the stairs.

"Don't you think… I don't know…? That's a bit much…?" He asked, "We don't even know these people."

Whirling, Jeanne pointed a finger to her older brother, with a heavy frown, "Pierre. These are Frenchmen. Our people." Shaking her head in disappointment, "Since when is doing good too much…?" She grumbled to herself. It's like he didn't understand the work they were supposed to do.

Opening the door with a reluctant Pierre following behind her. "Ah children. What are you doing so early?" Madam Royer turned around as Jeanne stepped outside in the crisp autumn air.

"We're here to help." Jeanne said as she watched servants load the wagons with barrels and crates of food.

"Girl… I don't know if you know this or not, but you're a genius." The matriarch slapped her on the back.

"..ooof" The maid didn't realize how hard this woman could hit. It took a bit to keep her self grounded. She still couldn't guess why she was a genius though.

"Right now get on the wagon! Chop chop!" Royer clapped her hands.

Walking towards the stables, she could see several people peeking out their doors from all the commotion. She could feel their eyes boring into her like crossbow bolts. Why were they watching her?

Reaching the carts, the servants paused their work. Some gawked at her like skittish deer while others stared intently at her as if studying her. "Pierre…" She whispered over to her brother subtly waving him over.

"Yes, sister?"

"They're staring."

"I noticed that."

"Why?"

"I don't know…"

Jeanne looked up to her brother, "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Her brother confessed, "I don't know."

Letting out an exhale, Jeanne nodded as she approached the head servant. An elderly man, in more refined clothing instead of linen clothing black trousers that the other servants wore. "Ah, Madam Arc." The man with a pepper mustache greeted with a low bow. "It is a pleasure."

Why was he bowing? "Ermm… yes… well..." She gestured for the man to stand, "So is there anything I can do to help?"

The head servant stood up with an almost an apologetic look, "Oh no madam, we have this under-"

The ground shook. Peeking over the shoulder, a young boy, must have been about ten years old. Dropped a box of smoked meats on the ground, the wooden box shattered. Looking up, she could see the head servant red with anger as he whirled around and launched a tirade of insults. "YOU STUPID, INCOMPETENT, OAF OF A BUFFOON! HOW DARE YOU!"

Marching past the elderly man with gritted teeth, she could see the boy was about to cry as he knelt down trying to picking up the food. "NO ONE WILL EAT THAT!"

Jeanne knelt down with Pierre joining her, "Now… now…" She patted the distraught boy's shoulder, "It's just food."

"Madam I will remove this child from your sight."

Jeanne shot a very dangerous glare, "No you will do no such thing. Accidents happen."

"Not here…"

"Yes here…" Jeanne rose to her feet in anger, "You have no right to scold someone like that. You shall remove yourself from here."

"But."

She pointed towards the house, "Go. Now." Jeanne ordered in a cold tone. Almost like a child, the man's shoulder sank in disappointment as he walked away in shame.

She could see a small crowd gathering. Madam Royer watched intently, with almost a smile that cracked the cold woman's lips.

Turning away and ignoring the crowd, she knelt back down to the child who was about to cry, a few tears escaping.

"It's alright." She gave him a warm-hearted smile which seemed to help.

"B-but… he's right… no one is going to want this…." The boy murmured at the meat that Pierre was collecting in a wicker basket.

"Nonsense." Jeanne looked down to see a small ham roast, covered in a bit of dirt. Picking it up, she looked up to the head matriarch, "Madam Royer."

"Yes child?"

"If it pleases you, my brother and I will only eat from this meat, lest it cause scandal."

"We can just throw it out…" Lady Royer offered with a bit of surprise.

"It's fine food, and I'd rather not give unclean food to the poor, they should receive the best, while we can make do with the scraps."

The older woman considered the proposal long and hard, but reluctantly agreed, "My entire household shall do the same."

Turning back to the boy who was in utter amazement, she laughed, "See? No harm. Nothing wasted."

"But… if I hadn't… dropped the food… none of this would have happened…"

"It was bound to happen with or without you, and my choice would have been the same." Jeanne countered as she offered the boy a hand.

He took her hand and was lifted off her feet, "Would you be willing to help me today?"

The boy nodded excitedly, the brightness in face seemed to dispel the dreariness of the town. "Most excellent" Jeanne nodded as she hopped on the cart. "What's your name?" She asked to help the boy on the cart as Pierre followed after.

"Francoise."

The would-be saint of Orleans nodded appreciatively. "A strong name indeed!" Jeanne laughed, "In a few years, the English will be driven out by such a patriotic name!"

"No…" The boy shook his head solemnly, "It is you who will push the English out."

The blonde girl pondered the boy's words in her heart. Maybe he was right. There was such an innocence in young Francoise youthful eyes. It had the simple trust that only children could have. It reminded her of her own trust in God. He spoke so simply and matter of factly, she couldn't help but to nod, "With you here, most certainly." She laughed.

Yet a seed of trouble was planted in her heart. Could she seriously drive the English out? No… she had to remind herself, "God can." She whispered to herself. God will drive the English out, and He will use her as the sword and drum. The sword to disperse the invader, the drum stir the dead French.

The cart lurched forward as more and more people started to gather outside of their homes. Watching, always watching her, unsure of what to make of this girl who just arrived. Rumors spread quickly as people spoke in hushed tones.

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Once outside the walls, the driver of the wagon stopped the cart in the makeshift village outside the wall. She turned to her brother and new friend, "Well… here goes nothing, get ready." Oddly enough, some of the guards surrounded the wagon. Standing up on the cart, Jeanne called, "Countrymen!"

No one seemed to pay her any mind. People went about their own business of picking away at the dirt, trying to crow what little food was available.

Jeanne's brow furrowed as she watched her people, God's people, go about their meaningless lives. It wounded the young girl's heart most grievously. Maybe this wasn't for her. Maybe she couldn't do this.

Speak. Michael's voice boomed in her head. Speak from the heart.

Inhaling deeply, Jeanne nodded, "My friends!" Jeanne called out.

A group of young children saw her and perked up, whether that was from Jeanne or the food, she could hardly guess.

"You have lost much through the years! To you, France seems all but dead! Your homes burned, burnt to ashes and loved ones buried in fields!"

Some of the adults looked up to see what this girl was talking about.

A lump started to form in her throat as she cried out in anguish "You think God has forsaken us!"

By now some more people showed up.

"I weep for you, giving up so easily. Do you not realize these tears are necessary for the rebirth of a more glorious France!?"

"What? What madness do you speak of!" Someone shouted back, "France is gone. It's just England and Burgundy!"

Looking up to Heaven, the dreary clouds started to part way, "No! God has not forsaken us! He plans on blessing our nation for centuries to come! Did not the church grow in the blood of martyrs! So too will France!"

"On whose authority do you say such things?" Another person shouted.

"On the King's!" Jeanne lowered her head with a warm smile seeing that a large crowd has gathered.

"We have no king!" people murmured in agreement

Jeanne looked down, "Are you Christian? Do you not know we have a King and Queen? And He has sent his herald to proclaim the restoration of his beloved daughter of France!"

"You are a crazy child."

Jeanne scoffed, "And you have little faith. I am here with food. We are to welcome you into the walls of the town where food and shelter will be provided under orders of the Maid of Lorraine."

Everyone stared at her in awe. She reached down and lifted up a basket of bread. Jumping off the wagon, she knelt down to a group of children and handed each one a loaf. Suddenly the guards came to life, as if something breathed life into them. They put down their weapons and started to unload the wagon with the help of Pierre and Francoise.

"Thank you!" They chirped happily like little birds who happily munched on the bread as they scampered off dragging more people here. Closing her eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief as people milled around her, more concerned with the food.

"Thank you, Lord."

"Madam…"

She turned around to see one of the soldiers looking at her with nervous airs about him, "Is.. is it true? You're the Maid…?"

Jeanne wanted to say no, but she couldn't. Something compelled her to nod. "I am." She admitted with a grim look.

The soldier took off his kettle helmet and bent the knee, "Madam… allow me into your service."

Here a little good stood before a soldier, looking around she could see all of them. Eight soldiers kneeling even some of the peasants that weren't preoccupied with eating, as more and more of them bent the knee. "If you truly are sent to save France, take us with you."

"Let it be so."

"WHAT IS THIS?!" A man's hoarse voice shrill.

Looking up she could see a man approaching on horseback. He had a beaked nose and weasel look about his with his plumed cap and other fineries draped around him. Seeing the man, she climbed the cart to be eye level with the newcomer.

Off in the distance she could make out two knights in battle worn armor.

Those two. Those two you will be your first retainers outside of your family. Michael's voice proclaimed.

But how? She didn't know how to approach knights and soldiers. The soldiers around her gravitated to her not by her choice.

Worry not. For the Lord will soften their hearts. Margaret's voice echoed in her head.

The two knights sat on the horizon as a column of soldiers marched towards them all worn and tired from battle. "What is this? Why are carts used to give away my food?! Who is in charge here?" The man demanded from the crowd.

Her gaze fell back upon the proud little lord. "That would be I." Jeanne raised her hand.

"You, a peasant girl?" The nobleman asked. "I should have you hanged for theft."

"Then you doom all of France."

The crowd stopped. The air charged with a certain electric tension as the soldiers gripped their spears tighter. They gathered between the girl and the nobleman.

"Theft you say?" Jeanne countered with a raised eyebrow. "It is you who are guilty of theft! Hoarding your food against starvation in a time of war!" Jeanne countered boldly as she climbed a crate, standing tall over the man. "Yet our God is merciful! Your wife has saved the city Vaucoluier with her generosity."

The man's harsh look softened as the villagers gathered around him, clearly angry with him.

"My wife? How do you know her?"

"Are you not Adam Royer?" Jeanne raised an eyebrow, "Lady Catherine Royer has granted me hospitality."

"Who are you, girl?"

"Jeanne d'Arc, the God-sent savior of France. You would do well to listen and obey lest you injure France more with your rapprochement." Jeanne looked at the people, "Look at your fellow countrymen, do you not see the state of France in them, tired and destitute, do you not feel compassion for your country, man?"

The nobleman looked at the soldiers who crowded around the cart where the girl stood, they had a fierce fire about them. Even the starving peasants and farmers gathered around her as if ready to protect her. "Of course I love my country." Robert announced boldly as he pounded his chest proudly. "I'd do anything to restore her."

Jeanne smiled at the noble as the coldness of greed started to melt, "Then help me by helping our people."

What happened totally stunned Jeanne. The man dismounted from his horse as the crowd seemed on edge. He tore off his satin cap, gold chains and silver buttons and handed them out to the crowd. He pulled a small sack from his belt and handed each soldier three gold coins and each person, even women and children, five gold coins. "Let it be said that the restoration of France started at Vaucouleur with…." He paused looking at the girl, "Jeanne d'Arc the Maid of France!"

The crowd went wild with cheers, praise, and liveliness. Jeanne looked up at the sun, it wasn't even noon, and she was exhausted. How she desperately wanted to collapse. Everytime she felt bold and proclaimed the words in her heart, it took a tole in her. At first with Madam Royer's house and now here.

"Guardsmen…" Jeanne called out.

Immediately, the six soldiers snapped to attention, looking at her for their orders. "Please help everyone here into the town. The Church will give them refuge until suitable quarters are found."

"Yes, Madam." They bowed. Soon enough, soldiers and citizens alike were focused on cleaning up the village. Even a few people from the town ventured out to aid their fellow countrymen.

Descending the crate she plopped down, exhaling slowly, enjoying that all the tension was leaving her.

It will get easier. Marguerite's voice warmed her mind, it's like exercise, you need to build up the muscle.

"I thought I was doing that in Domremy…" Jeanne laughed to herself

And that prepared you for here. Just as this is preparing you Chinon.

What a workout it was. Resting her head upon the crate she watched as the people were escorted through the gates, each person she saw, Jeanne asked the Lord to bless them. "Madam Jeanne."

Looking over, she could see Jacob Royer peering into the cart, "I ask for your pardon. My heart…" He seemed a bit disappointed in himself, "was not in the right place."

Jeanne smiled, "Think nothing of it. It is in God's heart, and that's what counts."

The nobleman pondered these words before he nodded in some kind of internal resolution, "I'd be honored if we could host you during your time here."

The girl's cheeks started to flush with color like that of an embarrassed girl, "I beg your pardon Sir Royer, but I'm already lodged in your home under the orders of your wife…." She rubbed her arm meekly with an awkward laugh.

The man seemed to lit up like the sun through stained glass, "Ahh yes my beloved Catherine! Bull-headed like a donkey and clever as a fox, that she is! I am most pleased. Come, we have much planning to do."

Jeanne nodded as she turned around. The column of soldiers and the two knights were marching down to the town. The big question was how she was going to meet such nobility. Turning to face her new host, or rather, the spouse of her host, she thanked him.

Young Francoise and Pierre joined her on the cart as the people filtered through the gates. "Jeanne, that was utterly amazing, how you handled that crowd!" Pierre patted her beloved sister on the shoulder.

"Are you an angel?" Francoise practically fawned.

Jeanne shook her head with a giggle, "Oh no no… God gave me words and their attention. That's all."

"Ever so humble…" Pierre smirked, "Even if God gave you those things, you acted on them."

Maybe she did, but she didn't want the pride to seep in. How many times was God driven out due to man's pride and arrogance. "God gave me the grace to act on it." Jeanne countered as she closed her eyes. The wagon lurched forward slowly and moved forward, hitting a few bumps. Jeanne could rest her eyes for a moment.

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Jean watched with interest as the wagon rode forward back into the town. Trotting down the country road, he looked up to see the clouds come back in. The vibrant morning started to fade as the dreariness of the dark looming clouds started to roll back in. Very strange weather patterns, indeed.

"I thought we were under orders to keep the refugees out…" Bertrand murmured to himself.

"I guess that is no longer the case." Jean replied, his eyes trained on that small blonde girl.

"Oh Sir Robert is going to have a field day with this. Should we kick them out?" Bertrand looked over his compatriot with a concerned look.

"No… they are under our protection for good or ill, now." Jean sighed in frustration at the looming outburst that Bertrand and he would have to endure by their lord, "Let's bring the reports to Sir Robert."

"Oh how I can picture his face right now. Red as a cherry about to burst."

"Don't remind me…" Jean murmured as he started ahead. Whatever was to happen with his liege lord, one thing was certain. He was going to find this girl. He was going to meet her and ascertain what she was planning. One way or another, he would get to the bottom of this.

And he had a pretty good idea where to start.

A/N

So here I am... yep, I'm going to keep writing. It helps with my well-being.

So... hi... again... long time no see... this is awkward.

I just want to say for one more time, this Jeanne is 100% based off the historical figure and haz zero association with the one in Fate.

May God and St. Joan forgive me for any inaccuracy.

I have historical A/U coming out as well with a different writing style, I hope you might be interested in that

God bless.