"Good, what fine words—'fearing no death' and 'all for France,' indeed!"
The Dauphin burst out laughing again, the sound sharp with mockery.
"Then prove it! Prove your worth—your so-called divine guidance! Why should I believe a word you say? What nonsense is this about 'the Lord's voice'?"
He suddenly stood from his throne, shouting,
"Where are the maids? Since you claim to be guided by the Lord, you must be perfectly pure, yes? Then you won't mind being examined!"
Without hesitation, Jeanne replied,
"Yes."
"Poitiers!" the Dauphin snapped. "Investigate her thoroughly—her identity, her faith, everything!"
As the maids led Jeanne away, he ordered a full inquiry into every detail about her. He wasn't fool enough to trust a woman he'd just met, even if Baudricourt vouched for her.
"A joke," he muttered. "Where does a peasant girl get such confidence?"
The two soldiers left behind exchanged glances until one finally spoke, carefully,
"Your Highness, morale among our men is at its lowest. Commander Baudricourt believes we need someone to inspire hope. Even if Miss Jeanne isn't suited for battle, we could present her as a heaven-sent figure. Even a symbol might strengthen our troops' resolve."
The Dauphin frowned, thinking. It was true—they had suffered defeat after defeat, and every plan he'd tried had failed.
The other soldier quickly added,
"Miss Jeanne's predictions about your forces weren't random. They were based on sound reasoning, Your Highness. She understands warfare surprisingly well. That's why Baudricourt sent her here."
Of course, that was a lie. Jeanne's "prophecies" were just that—prophecies. But the soldiers had dressed them up as strategy to make her seem more credible.
The Dauphin finally waved a hand dismissively.
"Hmph. One more death means nothing to me. But if she really brings victory, she'll have her reward. My mother-in-law is already preparing funds for an expedition to relieve Orléans—I won't tolerate any mistakes."
Just then, Jeanne, having finished her examination, re-entered the chamber—and heard those last words. She dropped to one knee.
"Your Highness, please—allow me to join that expedition."
The Dauphin was about to reply when a messenger burst in, breathless.
"Your Highness, someone outside claims to have a delivery for a person named Jeanne."
"A delivery?"
Everyone turned toward Jeanne, who blinked in confusion.
A delivery… for me?
"Yes, Your Highness," the messenger continued. "It's from a man named Laurent."
"Laurent!"
"Laurent?" echoed the Dauphin, glancing at her in surprise.
Jeanne's eyes widened. "Truly? From Laurent?" she asked, hardly believing it.
"Yes. And he insists it be handed to her directly."
"Someone you know?" the Dauphin asked.
"Yes," Jeanne answered at once.
The Dauphin gestured toward the door.
"Then let's see what this is about."
They followed the soldier outside. A horse-drawn carriage stood waiting, a cart full of goods behind it.
Jeanne stepped closer and peeked inside—and froze.
Lying atop the pile was a beautiful sword with a cross-shaped hilt, its black guard finely carved and trimmed in gold. The blade gleamed sharply, its quality unmistakable even at a glance.
But what caught her breath was the design of the cross. She instinctively touched the small necklace at her throat—it was the exact same shape.
Laurent… this was definitely his work!
A rush of warmth filled her chest. Smiling, she leaned in to look further.
A large, folded banner sat neatly to the side. Jeanne carefully picked it up and found a sketch attached. Unfolding the cloth, she saw the vivid banner of France, flawless and proud.
If no one had been watching, she would've hugged it to her chest, laughing out loud.
She set the banner on a nearby spear pole, raising it high.
Even the Dauphin's expression shifted slightly as he examined the items. Such fine craftsmanship—who was backing this girl?
Oblivious to his thoughts, Jeanne continued exploring. She found a gleaming suit of armor and, beside it, a small notebook filled with sketches.
Laurent knew she couldn't read much beyond simple words, so he'd explained everything in drawings—how to wield the sword, how to balance the spear, even how to wear the armor correctly.
But when she turned the page, Jeanne's face went scarlet.
There, drawn with clear, almost mischievous precision, was a little female figure—her.
And on that sketch, Laurent had gone out of his way to emphasize the chest area, labeling it clumsily.
From the drawing, the message was obvious:
"I made your armor roughly based on your old size—just a bit larger. You haven't gained weight, have you? Also, there are a few sets of undergarments. Try them on yourself."
Jeanne snapped the notebook shut, hiding the armor behind her in mortification.
Bad Laurent! How could he send something like that?! And that ridiculous doodle—two circles and two dots! How indecent!
Finally, there was a sealed letter addressed to the Dauphin. He took it, skimmed through, and chuckled softly.
"Well now, it seems someone's already arranged everything for you."
He glanced again at the equipment—and the chest of gold coins resting behind it. A faint smile touched his lips.
"So be it. Including you in the expedition won't hurt. Since Baudricourt recommended you, I'll give you this chance. If you win me a victory, all the better. But I'll grant you only partial command, not full authority."
"My deepest gratitude, Your Highness," Jeanne said, bowing deeply.
It was more than she'd dared to hope for. Permission to join was all she wanted.
As for the letter's true contents—only the Dauphin knew.
At last, Jeanne thought with quiet determination, it's time to step onto the battlefield.
...
That evening, despairing cries echoed from her room.
Jeanne had discovered, to her despair, that the clothes Laurent sent her were—unfortunately—a bit tight around the chest.