Burning Lilies Chapter 5

Joan had no clue what Francis was doing. They were walking through many hallways and through many doorways. The castle was vast, as if it was city within itself. In the back of her mind, she thought, but just for a brief second, what is the real motive of this seemingly long journey through the castle. Did he want to...with her...she shook off the thought. Joan now trusted this man, and she dare call him a friend. He wouldn't do something like that. Something had changed him in those past weeks, but what, she could not figure out.

They finally reached a greatly ordained door. It was huge, going all the way to the ceiling. The crack under the door shone a great light, and conversations were going on inside. Francis opened the door just a crack and stuck his head inside. Why was he so secretive about this, wondered Joan. His head finally came out and he smiled at Joan. It was neither a smirk nor a smile of lust. It was a genuine smile indeed. Francis stepped to his side and said "Ladies first, right, mademoiselle?" She curtsy, something she rarely did, and opened the golden knobs of the large room.

Joan burst into joyful tears.

What was laid before her was a custom fit set of armor detailed with lilies and such. It shone a bright silvery-gold and she could see the reflection of her soaked face. Above the armor hung a great banner of white lilies and criss-crossed swords. She turned to Francis, who grinned ear to ear, and she stared at her suit of armor. Yes, she thought, I will fight for this man, this man who has gone through so much for me. Her overly-joyed thoughts were interrupted by another set of news.
"Joan, we also made the swords and guns for the men, and we made a sword especially for you."

A servant brought a navy blue sheath. The handle of the sword were curved-neck swans, their wings spread to give the sword an angel-like feel. She drew the sword from the sheath and saw the words inscribed in it. They said 'nulla vestigium retrorsit.'
"Do you know what it means, Joan? It's latin, and--"
"It means 'Never look back.'"
"Yes. You must think of this when in battle. Do not think of earthly thoughts. You are a messenger of God, so you must think on that and the future you will give us with this battle. I'm..."
His pride sunk in, but he quickly swallowed it, "grateful that you are here..."
With that, she gave him a great hug and whispered in his ear, "You do not need to be grateful. It is my duty to do so. So, please, France, you do not need to worry."
He stepped back in shock. Did Joan just call me France? He remember those words in that shack. Was he dreaming? Before he can even process his thoughts, she had left the room. Francis was confused. Where did she go?

----

Joan entered her room located within the west halls of Francis' s castle. She entered her bed and all she wanted to do was to pray and cry. She had yet another dream, if you can call it a dream. It was more like a vicious nightmare, a nightmare which she could not draw out the meaning of. It was a dream filled with fire and shouts and smoke. All she could remember was that, and the odd scent of burnt lilies. She was worried, not just because she did not know the vision's meaning, but she knew it meant something evil. She prayed for the nightmare to stop, but God was persistent. That night, she cried herself to sleep.

----

The morning of the attack was a quiet one, like any other morning. Francis awoke to the sound of birds These small joys were to last only that moment when a servant burst into the room shouting,
"Arthur Kirkland has just crossed the border! We must set up the army fast!" With that, Francis rushed into Joan' s room to find her gone. All was left was a note from her on her nightstand. It read:

To my dear Francis,

       I have gone to the battlefield with the army. I am sorry if this is sudden, but if you are killed in battle, all of the land of France shall go immediately to England and we will live in great despair. If I go, a simple, mortal life, there will still be a chance to win with such a loyal army. My death will not be of great importance. Please, I ask if you stay here in the castle. We will surely win, I promise you. If I do die in that meadow, soaked in blood, please remember one thing: I love France, not Francis, which means...that I...love you. I will always love you, mon cher France.

                                                                                                                                 Yours Truly,
                                                                                                                                     Joan of Arcana

After reading the letter, he fell to his knees and began to cry. This love that he never felt before, this love that caused him so much joy, a love that was as gentle as the petals of a lily, was to be lost in the midst of war. Why did this great passion hurt so much? Why?

----

Joan rode a white stallion. Behind her were the faithful men of her village. A few hundred yards away stood the "great" Arthur Kirkland, smirking at her. She had her helmet on, so it was impossible to tell that she was a woman. Joan shouted from the top of her lungs with such confidence her own soldiers shuddered in her power. She shouted,

"This day, in this very hour, British blood will be spilled!"

At that, Sir Arthur Kirkland and Joan of Arcana ran towards each other, their armies following in their paths. The banner waved greatly as it hung from Joan' s stallion's right satchel. The white lily on the banner glowed in the light of the sun.