"It's about time to start preparations—especially for the coming battles. The siege of Orléans, above all."
Taking a deep breath, Laurent lowered his helmet into place. He didn't want Jeanne to recognize him once the fighting began; with this disguise, even if she saw him, she wouldn't know it was him.
"Sir Évigi, you seem unusually enthusiastic about this campaign," one knight remarked, eyeing him curiously.
This man had only been knighted ten days ago, yet he was already eager for war.
"Anyone would be happy about earning merit," Laurent replied simply.
He didn't elaborate further. In truth, he had no intention of leading any major assaults. He already knew how the Battle of Orléans would end—defeat for the English.
Once Jeanne arrived, no commander of this age could possibly outmatch her. Laurent only planned to observe from the shadows, ensuring she remained safe and unharmed. As for the French troops, he'd handle a few of them himself—just enough to create a convincing record of "valor."
When the English retreated, he'd rush out dramatically, crush a few enemy squads, and still end up a decorated hero.
Smirking, Laurent drew his sword and swung it a few times through the air. The blade sang sharply, slicing the wind.
A fine weapon indeed—but to protect Jeanne from afar, a bow would probably serve him better. Perhaps he'd reforge the sword later.
Now, it's time to begin.
...
Twenty days later, Jeanne finally arrived on the battlefield, just as she'd wished.
Granted half the army's command by the Dauphin, she immediately sought out Duke Dunois, the local commander.
The duke's jaw practically dropped when he saw her.
"Heavens above—what was the Dauphin thinking, sending a girl to command troops?"
Jeanne wasn't surprised. She'd expected as much.
"Since the Dauphin approved me, then I am qualified," she said evenly. "And when it comes to fighting for France, gender should make no difference."
Dunois ignored the comment entirely, waving her off. "I've already drawn up the battle plan. Today, we'll ambush—"
"A plan?" Jeanne cut in sharply.
The duke frowned, displeased. "Is there a problem? If we follow my plan, victory is assured."
"I think we should attack the English directly—not waste time hiding and waiting."
"What?"
Dunois stared at her as though she'd gone mad.
"Attack them directly? Are you insane? We'd be slaughtered!"
"The Burgundy Gate around Orléans is the English army's weakest point," Jeanne said firmly. "If we focus all our forces there, break through the siege, and enter Orléans at once, we can reclaim it."
Her certainty left the duke momentarily speechless. He couldn't decide whether the woman was bold or just foolish.
True, she was beautiful—but beauty wasn't strategy. What she described wasn't a plan, it was suicide.
And her armor—what was that? Instead of a full set, it was a mix of pieces, leaving parts of her exposed.
Could that even protect her properly?
He didn't know, of course, that Laurent had designed it himself, precisely fitted to the human body's vital points.
Though Laurent had underestimated one thing—Jeanne's chest size.
No one could've imagined she'd… develop so much in less than a year.
If Laurent saw her now, he'd probably forget to breathe.
Jeanne herself had noticed the issue when she'd tried it on—it was snug, painfully so. But since the armor's craftsmanship was excellent, she simply wrapped a cloth over her chest to hide the tightness.
At least that way, no one would notice.
"I disagree," said Dunois stubbornly. "We need to observe the enemy longer."
Jeanne didn't even glance at him.
"There are countless Frenchmen suffering inside Orléans right now. Every moment we delay means more deaths, more pain. We must attack immediately!"
"You think—"
"Duke Dunois," she interrupted, her tone iron-hard, "I'm not here to negotiate. The Dauphin gave me half the command, and that means I'm qualified. You're free to make your plans, but I won't sit idle. I'll prove myself with action."
Her words left him speechless. She wasn't wrong—her authority was official.
But that meant she controlled 3,500 soldiers. If she charged recklessly, she'd lead them all to their deaths.
"Of course," Jeanne added calmly, "I'll fight alongside them."
"Ridiculous! A commander's job is to plan, not to die on the front lines! You're just a girl—what are you thinking?"
"I have no fear," Jeanne said simply. "I was born for this. We'll attack the English, and I'll lead the charge myself."
"If you die, your men will lose their leader!"
Jeanne smiled faintly, her voice soft yet unshakable.
"Duke Dunois, aside from betraying my country, there's nothing I fear. God is with me. With His guidance, we'll find victory—and light."
Dunois clenched his jaw. Her conviction was unnerving. After a long pause, he finally exhaled.
"Fine. I'll have my troops accompany you. Losing three thousand men blindly would be the true defeat. But if things go wrong, I'm pulling back immediately—understand?"
"You need not worry about me," Jeanne said. "On the battlefield, we both fight for France. That alone brings honor."
"If you're so determined to die, no one can stop you."
"Then let's prepare," she replied. "Once we're ready, we attack at once."
The duke's mouth fell open. "Attack… now? You've barely arrived! You don't even know the layout—how can we win like this?"
Seeing his doubt, Jeanne's tone softened slightly.
"Duke Dunois, there's no need to worry. On the journey here, I studied every condition carefully. I've seen enough to know what must be done. There's nothing left to discuss—only to reclaim our land."