After the first failure to recapture Paris, the history books wrote that Joan was insistent on trying again, while Charles was adverse to the idea after securing his throne. He felt that she had become too difficult to deal with, and as such made no attempt to take her back from the English.

"My King, we must maintain proper boundaries. You are my liege, and I am your humble servant. God has sent me to be your protector, your guardian. It is impossible for me to be your wife. God will not allow it, nor would the nobles."

Whether or not God would allow it, Charles didn't know. But, he was certain that she was correct about the latter portion of her words. They would turn a blind eye to him taking her as a Mistress, but a Queen? France would burn before they allowed a commoner to hold such standing. It simply didn't matter how much Joan had accomplished for them.

Charles' jaw set for a moment before he sighed.

"Take however many knights you need. I'll be awaiting word of your victory."

Joan gingerly stood and bowed once more, sweeping a glance toward a dark corridor to the back left of the throne and leaving without another word.

The moment she left, a shadow stepped out from the corridor, making its way to the throne's side.

"Did I not tell you that when I'm meeting with her you aren't to be in the vicinity? What exactly do you mean by so flagrantly ignoring my commands, Pierre?"

"Forgive me, my liege. But, it is impossible for me to leave you with such a dangerous person. Punish me if you must."

"I'm well aware of what you're doing. Leave. Do this again and I will have you executed."

"My King, forgive me for saying so, but you cannot take this woman as your wife. You may think that this matter is only about her lineage, but this is not so. If she became your wife, would you allow her to go to the battlefield? If she carried your seed, would you allow her to charge toward the men of England?

"You are destined to be a King of legend. You must make decisions for the betterment of France."

"And would having a child that carries her blood and strength not be more beneficial than anything else? What if every King of France from now on wields her power? Would we not build an empire greater than Rome? Spare me."

"My King, you yourself already know that you've been blinded. Neither of Joan of Arc's parents had this strength, neither did her grandparents. It's impossible to say that this is hereditary.

"If my liege wants to take her as a bed mate, I will have nothing to say. If you'd also like to sire a bastard to test your theory, I will equally have nothing to say. But having thoughts of love, emotion and sharing a life with this woman is simply impossible, my liege."

Charles stayed silent for a long while, saying nothing. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Leave me."

Pierre bowed and obliged, slinking back into the shadows.

He walked along the corridor, his expression cold and dark. He looked like a man made of darkness, his robes a deep black, his nose having an exaggerated arch, and his chin being incredibly narrow.

After a moment, he really did disappear into the shadows. It wasn't an illusion or a feeling, but the objective reality.

His body sunk into the ground, vanishing.

When he reappeared, he was in a room dimly lit with candles dripping of wax.

Three men lay sleeping upon slabs of rock. Upon his appearance, they stirred, almost mechanically sitting up.

"The Battle of Patay is a must have victory for His Majesty. Go."

"Yes."

The three men inexplicably slipped into the shadows as well.

Pierre slowly walked across the room after they vanished, appearing by an alter with a closed black book. He stroked the cover almost affectionately, but also somehow simultaneously felt afraid to open up its pages.

'The Bishop will lead us to glory. Our names will go down in history…'

A dark glow emitted from the book.

**

Joan expressionlessly walked, leaning heavily on her crutch through the corridors of the main stronghold. Her face would sometimes flicker into a smile when she passed by someone, but the smile would just as quickly fade once she had passed.

It took over a long, but she eventually made it back to the outer walls to find the very same ten knights who had followed her out to greet Leonel and Aina.

"Get ready." She said plainly. "This will be an important battle."

Her smile was strikingly missing. Looking at her like this almost gave one a severe case of cognitive dissonance.

"Did those bastards make you angry again, Sister?"

The knight who spoke got a sword hilt to the back of his head, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Is it time yet, Sister?"

"No. The time isn't ripe."

"Must we really continue to win battles for them?"

"God has a plan, Michael. Believe in the Bishop. When this is all over, our names will ring throughout history. We will be the ones who bring this forsaken Earth closer to God."

Joan grabbed her flag. A golden glow emitted from its pole, radiating out like rays of sunshine.

She used her one good leg to pull herself onto her white steed, sitting tall with her smile once more back on her face.