"Kindness, Humility, Honesty, Purity, Faith - the Maiden's heart carried only these things and nothing else." - Mark Twain

The faint sound of birds chirping in the distance wakes me from slumber. For some reason, my bed doesn't feel as comfortable as I remember. It's a bit rough and hard.

My grogginess fades and more of my senses come back to me. A gust of wind blows by.

Wait, what?

I jump to my feet and assume a defensive stance.

Where the hell am I?

Open grassland and crop fields stretch out before me. There are a couple of archaic buildings nearby. They're not particularly tall or sophisticated. All of them have the same look: a red roof and a dark yellow facade. Not the kind you'd see today that's for sure.

No actual streets in sight. Only dirt roads.

There's no way I traveled back in time or something, right?

Amidst my thoughts, I hear a feminine voice calling out. "Jeanne, lunch is almost ready!"

"I will be right there, mother!" a child responds.

I walk over to the house up ahead where the voice came from. It's located at the edge of the village and doesn't stand out from the others.

After reaching a small fence, the fragrance of various flowers in this small garden behind the house reaches me. And there she is.

A little girl with blonde hair tending to the crops. She's in a dark blue dress. It's a little torn at the sleeves and has some grass stains on the lower end.

I stop a meter away from her, though she doesn't notice me at all. The resemblance is uncanny.

I understand what's happening here. Masters and Servants can catch glimpses of each other's past through dreams.

Jeanne stops watering the flowers and looks up. I follow her gaze. A few clouds in the sky part, shining a spotlight on her.

She kneels and claps her hands as if to pray.

I've done my homework on her history after she was summoned. I mean, I could have asked her. What better way to learn about Jeanne D'Arc than the person herself, but I felt like it'd be kind of weird.

At any rate, this seems to be where her story begins. Because she was born as a humble farmer's daughter, she lived a peaceful life up until the age of 13. The year is 1425. This is when she first heard the lord's lament.

It happened during the third and final stage of the Hundred Years' War between England and France. Much of northeastern France had been taken by the English at that point.

Like many other conflicts in human history, this one started out of hunger for power, money, and influence.

It all began with a dispute over the throne when the French King Charles VI became unable to rule due to his bouts of insanity. His brother Louis, the Duke of Orléans, and his cousin John, the Duke of Burgundy quarreled over ownership for years until the latter arranged the assassination of the former in 1407.

Following that, the young Charles of Orléans succeeded his father as the next Duke and, together with the Count of Armagnac, formed the Armagnac faction. This alliance was in direct opposition to the Burgundian faction.

The current King of England at that time, Henry V, saw his chance within these internal conflicts and invaded France in 1415. By 1417, the English captured many northern French towns. In 1418, Paris was taken by the Burgundians and the Count of Armagnac was executed along with his followers.

Charles VII assumed the title of heir to the throne at the age of 14 after all four of his older brothers had died. It's noteworthy that the Burgundian faction held the traditional site for crowning French Kings, the city of Reims, within their territory. Thus, Charles VII could not officially ascend the throne.

His first major act was to secure a peace treaty with the Duke of Burgundy, but it took a turn for the worse. Armagnac partisans assassinated the Duke despite Charles promising him protection. The new Duke of Burgundy, Phillip, blamed Charles for the murder and allied themselves with the English. Together, they conquered most of the north and northeast of mainland France.

In 1420, the queen of France signed a treaty that granted the succession to the French throne to the King of England, Henry V, instead of her son, Charles VII. Both Henry V and Charles VI died in quick succession in 1422.

The problem was that the successor to the throne of England, Henry VI, was an infant at the time and thus unable to rule. So, Henry V's brother acted as regent until he would come of age.

Jeanne, after hearing the lord's laments, came to a decision. She felt that the answer to his sorrows was to restore peace to France and have the rightful successor, Charles VII, ascend the throne.

I blink. And as quickly as I do, the village melts into endless greenery. Buildings and people sprout from the earth, a maze of provincial stonework and busy-bodies going about their alien lives. It looks like a small town, but I can't guess which-

Wait, there's Jeanne.

I quickly follow after her, casting sideway glances along the way. There's a woman carrying a jug of water and a child that follows her. On the other side is a merchant at his stall promoting his wares to passersby. I return my gaze ahead to see a burly man about to walk right into me. It's too late to dodge. Instead, he just walks right through me as if I'm a ghost.

It makes sense. I'm nothing more than a spectator in her memories. But I feel as if I'm intruding at the same time even though I didn't do it on purpose.

Anyway, I catch up with her. She looks older now than she was in the garden, but she's not with the military yet as she's still wearing her dark blue dress. Which means this is likely the town of Vaucouleurs. This is where she stepped out into the open.

We arrive at the local garrison. Two guards are blocking the entrance.

"Halt!" one of them says. "Identify yourself and state your business."

"My name is Jeanne D'Arc," she replies. "And I must speak to your Commander for the sake of this country."

The guards are a little hesitant at first, but eventually let her in to meet with their commanding officer, Robert de Baudricourt. Normally, they won't let just anyone walk in and speak to their commander, but Jeanne is unarmed and serious about it. There's no harm in letting her in.

Suffice to say that the first contact didn't go as planned for her.

"You want an armed escort to the Royal Court? In case you have not noticed it, we are at war," Robert says. "I do not have the time or patience to deal with a country girl who claims to have heard the voice of God. Guards, show her out."

Her first attempt failed, but Jeanne is determined. She isn't giving up that easily.

Over the next weeks, she gathers a following consisting of soldiers under Baudricourt's command. Their support grants her a second meeting.

"You again?" he sighs. "What do you want?"

"I must be at the king's side," she says. "There will be no help if not from me. Although I would have rather remained spinning wool at my mother's side... Yet must I go and must I do this thing, for my Lord wills that I do so."

"I have already told you that I will not listen to the delusions of some farmer's girl," he says.

"I am not delusional, I can prove my claim," she replies.

"Really now?" he says. "Then by all means, enlighten me."

"Charles de Bourbon has suffered a defeat just outside Orléans," she says. "The English convoy he was targeting drove his forces back."

"What?!" he says.

And sure enough, it happened just like she predicted it. A few days later, a messenger arrives to report what Jeanne clairvoyantly announced mere days ago.

Having proven to be backed by divine grace, the commander grants her request for an armed escort. However, that escort travels through enemy territory. So as a precautionary measure, Jeanne dresses as a man to go undetected.

Next, I stand in the middle of a large hall. The floor is made out of fine, polished marble and the large windows are lined with luxurious royal blue curtains. A few dozen people are gathered here. Their elaborate robes or decorated armor suggest that they're nobles, archbishops, or knights of high rank.

The large double doors creak open. Another group of people walks in. My eyes land immediately on the one in the center with the blonde hair. Despite her disguise, I can still recognize her.

The crowd turns to face the newcomers.

"Your highness," one of the soldiers beside Jeanne says. "We bring you Jeanne D'Arc of Domrémy."

The people turn back to the man in question, awaiting his response.

"Let her approach," he says.

Jeanne steps forward and looks at him inquisitively.

"I can see that you are a good man." She smiles. "But you are not the Dauphin."

There's some murmur in the crowd. Looks like the heir to the throne she's presented with isn't the actual Charles VII. It makes sense considering how many want him dead.

"Please, I must speak with the Dauphin," Jeanne says. "Time is of the essence."

"He is here," one of the nobles replies, gesturing to the crowd. "But you must find him yourself."

Without another word, she takes up the challenge. She slowly walks within the silent crowd, peering at each face. All eyes are on her.

She notices one man who's standing cautiously behind a few knights, but looking at her with curiosity. As she walks closer, the knights shift ever so slightly.

I know enough to say that they're ready to strike anyone who dares to approach the man behind them without permission.

Jeanne comes to a halt just in front of the knights and looks straight at the man behind them. He's clothed rather modestly compared to the rest of the crowd.

She bows. "Dauphin, I am sent to you to drive out the English from Orléans and from France and to crown you king in the cathedral of Reims where all true kings of France are crowned."

She identified the heir to the throne without ever laying eyes on him and foresaw frontline developments through her revelations. Impressed by this, Charles VII grants her request to be sent to Orléans in hopes of lifting the siege.

It should be noted that there was another reason they went along with Jeanne's claims. They have suffered one humiliating defeat after another in the years leading up to this moment and were demoralized. Every rational course of action has been tried and failed. They were desperate for anything that could turn the battle in their favor.

Under any other circumstances, she would have been laughed upon at best and declared a heretic at worst. In the eyes of the people, she was nothing more than an illiterate farm girl, claiming to have heard the voice of God who told her to lead the country's army to victory against the English.

Even so, the Royal Court still launched an investigation into her background in April 1429. They wanted to make sure that she wasn't a heretic or a sorceress. It just goes to show how distrustful they were toward someone that was trying to help.

Next thing I know, I'm standing outside again. Open plains stretch out before me. There's an army in the distance. I can make out the English banners peeking out from the masses.

I turn around to face the French forces defending Orléans. Some soldiers in the middle part to make way for a few horses coming toward the front of the army. I spot Jeanne among the commanders. She's now wearing the battle dress she does as a Servant with a long dark blue cloak draped over it. However, she has cut off her braided ponytail to pass as a man.

She dismounts and takes her banner in both hands. The flag at the top begins to unfurl as sunlight glints off her armor.

The troops behind her have seen better days. They seem a little anxious. Their looks are all over the place and their stances are shoddy. Some are even quaking in their boots and look around for support. They're downright unmotivated after suffering many consecutive losses.

Her flag, Luminosité Eternelle, sways in the wind with all its glory. She turns around to address them.

"Hear me, my brethren in arms!" Jeanne says. "Do not waver! Do not falter! Do not despair! For the Lord is with us! And by heaven's will, we shall be victorious!"

The soldiers let out a battle cry as if they'd been reinvigorated with new life. Being told that god is on your side was a powerful motivator at the time. Especially if it comes from someone whose actions are known to be guided by divine intervention. She's just naturally charismatic and her friendly attitude makes one strive to do the best they can.

With their newfound strength and courage, the French army engages the English. I watch the bloody battle unfold before my eyes. People are struck down left and right on both sides by arrows, swords, spears, or cavalry.

Jeanne is not actively fighting, but she isn't hiding in the back either. She's staying closely entrenched near the frontline, boosting the morale of the troops and waving her banner.

This also seems to have an inverse effect on the enemy as they've been told that she's a witch or possessed by the devil or such. Therefore, they're scared to go near her.

The battle ends with the English in full retreat. Parts of the defenders give chase to pick off the stragglers. This was her first battle and a much-needed victory for the French.

Jeanne is nearby, overlooking the aftermath of the battle over a small hill. I quietly approach. Her banner still flutters in the wind, her eyes are downcast and there's an ever slightly frown.

Other than the fact that she looks lonely up here, this is a new experience for her. She has lived a peaceful life up until stepping onto the battlefield where killing intent is swirling about. The grassy fields down below are stained with blood and I imagine that part of her wished that it wouldn't have come to this, but there's no other way. It must be hard for someone as gentle and kind as her.

"Jeanne," a male voice calls out. "Are you alright?"

A knight in white-silver armor and long black hair walks up to her. Parts of it are colored in teal and it's decorated with a cross on the chest plate, the shoulder, and the legs.

"I am fine, Gilles," she replies. "How are the wounded?"

Gilles? As in Gilles de Rais? I saw that name appear a few times when I read up on her history. The things I read about this guy or rather what he will become were... unpleasant to put it mildly.

"They are tough," he replies. "I am sure most, if not all of them, will pull through. More importantly, things are finally starting to go our way, all thanks to you."

"You are giving me too much credit," she says. "I am just a peasant who knows only how to pray and write her own name."

"I assure you, that is more than enough," he says.

Within eight days after her arrival at Orléans, the French capture a total of four outlying fortresses in quick succession. During that last battle, Jeanne is wounded by an arrow between her neck and shoulder, but she returns the next day to give her allies the final push they needed. The English retreat the following day, effectively ending the siege of Orléans.

Many interpret the lifting of the siege as the sign that Jeanne is indeed sent by the Lord to drive out the enemy. She gains a lot of supporters within the clergy. However, the English are furious at the concept that God is supporting the enemy.

Deciding to not waste this momentum, Jeanne and the Duke of Aleçon propose to take bridges along the Loire River in preparation for taking Reims which is deep within enemy territory. Ironically, Reims is further away than Paris, which is where the English are expecting them to attack next.

Their next advance begins in early June. They take the small city of Jargeau after two days of fighting on the 12th of June. During that battle, Jeanne once again proves herself by warning the Duke of an imminent cannon that is about to fire, thus saving his life.

In the span of the next five days, they take two more cities along the river, which then culminates in the final battle of the campaign at the village of Patay on June 18. The French army catches the English off-guard as they are retreating out of the region and decimate the majority of their forces while keeping losses to a minimum.

The march to Reims follows shortly after. Many more towns on the way return under French control with almost no opposition at all. Reims is taken on July 16 and the consecration of Charles VII happens the following morning, officially crowning him King of France.

Instead of listening to Jeanne's advice and advancing to Paris next, the Royal Court opts to form a truce with the Duke of Burgundy. This turns out to become a big mistake as the Duke uses that time to further fortify his hold on Paris.

Once the news comes out, the French set their sights on Paris. Though they took several more towns on the way, they fail to retake Paris after a siege that lasts five days. Jeanne gets wounded in the leg by a crossbow bolt on the final day and is carried back to safety by one of the commanders.

The French receive orders to retreat from Paris for now and Jeanne isn't seeing more action until October when they take a heavily fortified town along the Loire River. The following campaign against another fortress in December fails, however.

A truce with England is formed shortly after, which brings the war to a standstill until May 1430. Jeanne travels to a town called Compiègne that's under siege by the English and Burgundians, which ends up being her last battle.

She and her forces attempt to attack an enemy camp north of the town, but are forced to withdraw when 6000 Burgundian troops come to reinforce the camp. Jeanne, being the hero she is, stays with the rear guard to cover their escape. Unfortunately, they are surrounded and captured.

Brick walls appear and box me in on all sides. It's pretty dark in here. The only source of light is a small open window that lets sunlight in.

I spot Jeanne sitting in a corner of this cell. She's only wearing white pants and a shirt.

This must be Beaurevoir Castle, where she was imprisoned by the Burgundians. From what I read, she-

Jeanne stands up and walks over to the window. She leans forward to look down with a pensive look. I walk over to see for myself over her shoulder. It's pretty high up. Probably around 20 meters?

She climbs up the windowsill. Without a second thought, she jumps. I nearly have a heart attack as I dash to the window to look after her. She lands on the soft earth of the dry moat around the tower, unharmed. I heave a sigh of relief.

Wait a minute, why was I even worried there? I've read her story and know how this ends. Damn it, why am I getting so worked up about this.

"The prisoner is escaping!" someone yells outside.

She is caught shortly after and moved to a different prison tower. But even that does not deter her from trying to escape multiple times. Sadly, all of them prove to be futile.

A few months later, the Burgundians, her own countrymen sell her off to their English allies for a very large sum of money. She's moved to their headquarters in Rouen, a city in the far north of France.

And there, on the 9th of January, the infamous "Trial of Jeanne D'Arc" is held. If it can even be called a trial to begin with.

On cue, I stand in the middle of a courtroom. There are lots of clerics, assessors, and doctors of theology. All led by Bishop Pierre Cauchon, an English partisan.

"Let the prisoner be brought in," he says.

The doors open and two guards lead Jeanne in. Her wrists and ankles are fettered as if it's dangerous to let her walk around without them.

The crowd that gathered watches her being led to the center of the room where she's forced to stand. A nearby scribe dips his quill in ink and prepares to write on an empty sheet of parchment.

"Our most serene and Christian King Henry the Sixth, King of England and France, has handed this girl over to us, accused of a number of heretical deeds, to be tried in a matter of faith," he continues.

This "trial" is a complete joke. It was rigged against her from the start. For one, they had little evidence to start a trial according to inquisitorial rules. The man in charge of the trial, Pierre Cauchon, was appointed by the English Crown and lacked the jurisdiction. The tribunal was also stacked with pro-English clergy. On top of all that, Jeanne was also denied a legal advisor.

He walks over to her and adds, "Take the Holy Gospels in your hand and swear to tell the whole truth concerning everything you will be asked."

"I do not know what you wish to examine," she replies. "Perhaps you might ask such things that I would not tell."

There are some gasps in the crowd. Cauchon and the clergy are at a loss for words for a moment at her boldness.

"You will swear to tell the truth about what you are asked!" he says.

"I will willingly swear to tell the truth about earthly things, but as for my revelations," she says. "I have never told anyone except my king, Charles the Seventh, the one and only king of France."

"You must take the oath!" he says again. "Not even a king would refuse to take an oath to tell the truth in a matter of faith."

"I will willingly swear to tell you what I am allowed to tell you," she answers. "But as to the rest, even if you threaten to cut off my head, I still will not tell you."

Seeing that this back and forth isn't getting them anywhere, they proceed by asking her for her full name, her age, her birthplace, and where she was baptized.

"Recite the Lord's prayer," he says.

"Not unless you hear my confession first," she replies.

The Bishop grows impatient and urges her to recite it again, prompting the same reply from her in return.

"You are not helping yourself by refusing to submit to our judgment," he says.

"And you be careful, you who claim to be my judges," she says. "For you too will be judged one day."

Shouts from the crowd emerge.

"Blasphemy!" "Heresy!" "She's a witch!"

"Guards! Take the prisoner away!" he shouts, suspending the trial. "Clear the room!"

The following sessions are held in private after Jeanne made a mockery out of the biased judges.

This time, the other members of the tribunal get to take turns in asking her questions. Jeanne is still forced to stand for hours.

"This 'voice' that you claim to hear... Is it an angel? Or a Saint? Or does it come from God?"

"I will not tell you more about that," she says. "I am more afraid of displeasing Him than not answering to you."

"You are afraid of displeasing God when telling the truth?"

"No," she says.

"Did God forbid you to tell the truth?"

"No," she says. "But my revelations are for the King of France, not for you."

All I can do is stand and watch everything unfold before me. They're so desperately trying to coax her into making a mistake which makes it all the more infuriating.

"Tell us, Jeanne," Cauchon says. "Do you consider yourself to be in a state of grace?"

Perhaps the most devious of traps in all sessions. This is a trick question because, according to Church doctrine, no one can be certain of being in God's grace.

Answering yes will make her a heretic. Answering no is equivalent to an admission of guilt.

She replies thus, "If I am not, may God put me there. And if I am, may God so keep me. I should be the saddest creature in the world if I knew I were not in His grace."

There's a long pause among her interrogators. None of them expected such an answer from "a mere peasant."

Regardless, the questioning continues into many more sessions over many more weeks.

"Who told you to wear men's clothes?"

"The clothes are not important," she says.

"You also cut your hair short like a man, and in the Bible, it clearly states that it is an abomination for a woman to pretend to be a man! It proves your desire to deceive."

"It was just more convenient as I was among soldiers," she says.

They just go on and on, trying to use even the most trivial of things against her.

"Is it true that you launched an attack on Paris?"

"I tried to," she says.

"It was on a Sunday, was it not?"

"I do not remember..." she says.

"Do you think it was a good idea to launch an attack on a holy day?"

"I do not know..." she answers.

"And did you not order the citizens of Paris to surrender the city in the name of the King of Heaven?"

"No, I said 'Surrender in the name of the King of France'," she says.

"That is not what is written in the evidence! See for yourself!"

They hold out a document to her.

"I cannot read," she says.

"Ah, yes, I forgot. God sent us an illiterate peasant to carry out such an important mission! Do you think that God made the right decision, to take an ignorant girl to save the kingdom of France?"

"I leave that answer to the Lord," she says.

The room spins and changes the scenery. I'm back in her cell. The absence of light outside the barred window tells me the sun has already dipped below the horizon.

Jeanne is, once again, huddled in the corner. Her eyelids are halfway down as she pulls a ragged piece of cloth over herself for cover.

She doesn't deserve to be treated like thi-

The sound of footsteps. They're coming closer. It stops right behind the door I'm facing. There's a jangling noise.

Her cell door unlocks with a click and slowly opens. A man in decorated yellow and red robes steps in. Looks like some noble.

"Well, who do we have here," he says.

He's looking right at me. Or rather through me. There's a glint in his eyes that makes my stomach turn.

"Who are you?" Jeanne asks.

"That is not important," he replies.

He starts unbuckling his belt and walks right through me.

Jeanne jolts up. "No! Do not do this!"

"What?" he says, grabbing her wrists and pushing her down. "I figured you would be bored in here and came to give you a fun time."

My blood boils and I'm overcome with rage. I try to grab this guy by the shoulders but my hands grasp empty air.

"Damn it!" I shout as I punch the wall.

Why? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!

"Help!" she screams while that scum tries to force her legs apart. "Someone help me!"

She starts kicking and thrashing.

"Shut up or you'll wake up the whole damn castle!" he says.

He clamps one of his hands on her mouth. Jeanne grabs the nearby cloth and wraps it around his neck. She starts pulling on both ends with all her strength. That piece of trash tries to tear the cloth off of him. The moment his hands let go of her, she manages to push him off.

"You-" he coughs. "Bitch!"

He gets back up. Then-

"What is this commotion here?" a feminine voice yells behind me.

The asshole snaps to attention and turns around. Standing in the doorway is a woman in a yellow dress, decorated with a blue flower pattern. She's accompanied by two guards.

"N-Nothing, milady," he says. "I was just, uhm, checking in on the prisoner that's all."

"If I see you near her cell one more time I will have you hanged," she says. "Now, begone."

I breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves. That woman must be the Duchess of Bedford if she can order some noble around.

"You have my apologies," she says to Jeanne. "Though we are enemies, there should at least be honor in war. Men like him are a disgrace to our nation."

She walks up to Jeanne and gives her a proper blanket and a small cross. Without another word, she turns around to leave.

"Thank you…" Jeanne says.

"You should not be thanking me," the Duchess replies on her way out. "I will have guards that I can trust posted here from now on, that is the least I can do."

Can't believe I'm actually saying this, but thank god for that.

The trial continues...

"Tell us, Jeanne. Why did you jump from the tower at Beaurevoir?"

"I had been sold to the English," she says. "I would rather surrender my soul to the Lord than fall into their hands."

"Did your voices tell you to jump?"

"No," she says.

"So, when you jumped, you wanted to kill yourself?"

"No!" she says.

"How can you deny it when you just said 'I would rather die than fall into the hands of the English'?"

"That is not what I meant..." she says.

"Do you know that suicide is a very grievous sin? No one is allowed to destroy the life that God created!"

"I know, but that is not the way things happened," she says.

"You mean it was not of your own free will that you were on the ledge?"

"Yes, but-" she begins.

"And you did not jump of your own free will?"

"No!" she says.

"Oh? Then perhaps someone pushed you then?"

Some among the tribunal start to laugh. Jeanne lowers her head and sighs.

The farce is nearing its end. Jeanne looks a little pale, exhausted, and it doesn't look like they've been feeding her too well either.

"Which do you prefer, your banner or your sword?"

"I am forty times more fond of my banner than my sword," she answers.

"And why was that? Did it have some particular value or power?"

"No, it is just that a sword is a weapon," she says.

"And?"

"And so, I prefer my banner," she says.

"Why?"

"To avoid killing anyone," she says.

"Are you saying that if you had not been carrying your banner, you would have killed more people?"

"No, of course not!" she says.

"Then perhaps the temptation to kill would have been stronger... too strong perhaps?"

They eventually ran out of questions for her and decided to wrap it up.

"Let us summarize your situation. You refuse to submit to the authority of the church by taking an oath, you made an attack on Paris on a Sunday, you hurled yourself down from the tower at Beaurevoir, and you persist in wearing a male dress."

And just like that, I find myself outside once more. After her trial comes the execution, which makes this the marketplace of Rouen. A large crowd gathered on each side of the street. Jeanne is led along, her wrists and ankles shackled and the chain held by a guard on a horse in front of her. She's only wearing a simple white dress and walks barefoot.

It's the 30th of May 1431. Dark clouds cover the skies above.

The French have tried multiple times to attack Rouen and rescue her by this point, but all attempts failed.

"Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" the crowd chants.

Jeanne has an absent look on her face. She probably doesn't even hear the people admonishing her.

A stone comes flying. It hits her just above her left eye. Jeanne doesn't even flinch. Blood drips from the wound.

As if suddenly waking up from her daze, Jeanne looks down on her empty hands.

"Excuse me, is there someone who will give me a cross?" she asks around. "Someone? Please!"

A little girl pushes past the crowd and runs over to her, quickly handing her a makeshift cross.

"Thank you," she says.

Moments later, a guard drags the girl away from her back to the crowd.

At the end of the walk waits the wooden stake for her. A masked executioner stands beside it. The disgusting Bishop Pierre Cauchon stands nearby on a pedestal. Once the guard leading Jeanne comes to a stop, the Bishop speaks up.

"Jeanne, my very dear friend in Christ, we, your judges and assessors, desirous of reaching a true and lawful verdict, submitted a transcript of your trial to the University of Paris in order to obtain their opinion," he says. "After careful consideration, the learned scholars have concluded with us that you have committed many grievous sins, and I ask you to listen most carefully to their opinion as contained in these twelve articles. Article One..."

As he's reading out the charges against her, she's tied to the wooden pillar. She's holding the cross in both her hands and gives a silent prayer, ignoring the Bishop's speech.

I want to climb up there, free her, and help her escape, but it's no use. All of this already happened. I'm just a spectator in her memories, but being forced to watch such injustice unfold before me and being powerless to stop it... That's just too cruel.

She threw her chance at a peaceful life away. A life where she could have found love and be loved in return. She sacrificed everything. She didn't even want or expected a reward out of this. And still... Still, she was betrayed and humiliated.

What manner of creatures, no, monsters would do such a thing? What kind of god would let their emissary suffer such a fate? Nothing human, to be sure.

"... Finally, Article Twelve," he says. "You have said that you are not willing to submit yourself to the judgment of the Church Militant, but only to God. As to this article, the scholars say that you have no comprehension of the authority of the Church, that you have perniciously erred in the faith of God, and that you are a child of superstition, a wanderer from the Faith, an invoker of demons, a sorceress, an idolater, and a heretic!"

The executioner lights the fire. The flames surround and consume her. Jeanne retains her composure, even as the temperature around her rises.

With her final breath, clutching the cross with all her might, she says her famous last words, "O' Lord, I give myself to You..."