Jeanne's Long and Affectionate Confession / The Shattered Trial / A Growing Girl

[This was an unexpected trial.]

[The English actually decided to hold a moral trial for the French saint on their own territory.]

[No matter how you thought about it, it was an extremely absurd thing.]

[But not a single Englishman or Burgundian questioned it.]

[Through long-term propaganda, the Jeanne in their eyes was no longer a hero, but an extremely corrupt heretic.]

[You realized that you had to tell Jeanne how to respond.]

The night before the public trial.

Pierre and Jeanne were transferred to a new prison cell.

This was a show put on by the court—they wanted all the English to know that this was a reasonable and flawless trial.

And a clean prison cell like this was an extremely necessary part of it.

Facing such an environment, Pierre didn't feel any comfort at all.

He just wanted to clearly explain to his adopted sister Jeanne how to face the inevitably unfair trial tomorrow.

"Jeanne, listen to me..."

[You told Jeanne many countermeasures.]

[She also very seriously noted down everything you mentioned.]

[But at the same time, you noticed that her expression was a bit off.]

[You realized that she seemed to have some ideas of her own.]

"..." Pierre looked at his adopted sister in front of him, hesitated for a long time, and then gently asked,

"Jeanne, do you... have something you want to say to me?" he asked softly, his gaze loving.

Hearing her adopted brother's voice, Jeanne was silent for a while before replying softly.

"Brother... you said it's best not to answer questions that involve my personal matters," she said, her blue eyes looking at him with concern.

"But if—"

"I know the answer to that question? Shouldn't I answer it then either?" she asked, her voice a little hesitant.

"..."

[You realized that Jeanne had her own unique persistence in certain matters.]

[This was quite contradictory—the more she said, the more likely she would be in a dangerous situation, but the less she said, the more likely she would be to go against her own will.]

[You thought for a long time but couldn't come up with a suitable answer.]

[Until Jeanne reached out and touched your hand.]

"Brother..." The blonde girl blinked her beautiful blue eyes and asked with a worried expression,

"Did I say something very stupid?" she asked softly, her gaze anxious.

"If so... I'm sorry," she added, her voice filled with apology.

"..." Pierre looked at Jeanne, who was apologizing to him, his expression quite pained.

What exactly had his sister done wrong?

Just because she was too kind, did she have to endure this kind of suffering?

"No," Pierre reached out with a trembling hand and touched his adopted sister's head.

"Don't apologize, this isn't your fault," he reassured her gently, his gaze loving.

"Hmm... if you really feel it's necessary to say it at that time—"

"Then say it," he encouraged her gently.

"Brother will support you no matter what," he promised, his gaze resolute.

[You didn't know if you were doing the right thing.]

[But you knew that respecting her opinion was something you should do as her adopted brother.]

[You spent an uneasy and difficult night.]

[The next day, the trial arrived as scheduled.]

[You and Jeanne were taken to two completely different places.]

"Sit down," the two English soldiers escorting Pierre said.

But Pierre himself looked at the seat in front of him with some bewilderment.

"You... haven't made a mistake, have you?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me, sit here?" he added, gesturing to the prominent seat.

Just as the boy was surprised.

Even though he and his sister were both "prisoners" locked in a prison cell,

At this moment, he could sit in the most open place—a seat with a panoramic view of the entire trial scene.

This was too abnormal.

"That's right, according to the Archbishop's wishes, you should sit here," the English soldier said, then stopped answering any further questions.

[You realized that this was a seat specially arranged for you.]

[Someone wanted you to witness the entire trial process with your own eyes.]

[You quickly realized who the person with such thoughts was—it was François Prelati.]

[Where is she?!]

Before Pierre could find Prelati's figure, a commotion broke out in the trial scene.

Jeanne appeared in everyone's sight—and behind her were two English soldiers.

No.

To be more precise, they should be magicians.

To ensure that nothing would go wrong with this trial, the court could be said to have made the greatest effort, even going so far as to invite magicians for this purpose.

Under this heavy pressure, Jeanne was brought to the stand.

Her expression looked very nervous, and the hands propping herself up on the stand were constantly trembling.

Seeing this scene, Pierre couldn't help but feel more heartache for her.

Fortunately—

The seat he was in was too special.

This allowed Jeanne to spot her brother at a glance.

And in the instant their eyes met, no matter how noisy the environment was, it couldn't affect them.

Don't be afraid... Brother is here with me.

Realizing this, the girl became brave.

Her hands no longer trembled, and her gaze towards the courtroom also gained a bit of firmness.

That was an expression of no longer being afraid.

[Changes in demeanor are the easiest things to notice.]

[The people who came to observe this trial quickly began to discuss among themselves.]

[They looked at the girl standing alone under everyone's gaze, and their attitude actually gained a bit of approval.]

[But this was not the result the theologians needed—they had originally wanted the English people to witness Jeanne's trembling and fearful appearance, but now the opposite had happened.]

[Enraged, they immediately carried out the trial process.]

A white-haired chief inquisitor picked up the stack of parchment in front of him.

He glanced at the contents, then said in a very serious tone,

"Jeanne D'Arc."

"That is your name, is it not?"

"It is," Jeanne replied neither humbly nor arrogantly.

"Hmm..." The chief inquisitor snorted coldly, then looked again at the parchment in his hand.

His gaze finally stopped on a line of words.

"Jeanne D'Arc."

"Do you admit that you, being a priest, married your brother?"

"Whoa—!"

[The words from the chief inquisitor instantly ignited the emotions of the people present.]

[If a person is a priest, he/she should indeed not marry their brother—that is something that violates the doctrine.]

[The public opinion towards Jeanne instantly became extreme.]

[But you were more concerned about something else—how did the court learn all of this?]

[Your brain worked quickly.]

[You quickly realized the truth.]

[The identity of being a priest came from the betrayal of Domremy Village.]

[As for the matter of marrying Jeanne, it was very likely speculated by Prelati—she indeed had such ability.]

[You clearly knew that this would be a very difficult question to answer.]

However—

Things didn't develop in the direction Pierre had worried about at all.

Jeanne, upon hearing this question, didn't hide anything and nodded very seriously.

"You are right," she said, her blue eyes looking at the inquisitor with unwavering resolve.

"I... indeed married my brother," she declared, her voice clear and steady.

As soon as these words came out, the originally noisy crowd quieted down.

Everyone looked at her with an extremely surprised expression, as if they had stopped breathing—because no one had expected the girl to directly admit such a thing.

And Pierre was even more so.

Although he really wanted to openly admit that Jeanne was his wife,

But at the same time, he also knew how serious the consequences would be once he said such words.

But now—

She directly revealed everything.

What exactly did she want to do?

Pierre's worried doubts didn't last long.

Because Jeanne quickly revealed the answer.

Her gaze slowly swept over everyone present.

A voice, not too loud but enough for everyone present to hear, echoed in the faded courtroom.

"You may think I am rebellious, and you may say I am shameless," she began, her blue eyes looking at the crowd with sincerity.

"But—"

"I remember the Lord once said a sentence," she continued, her voice clear and strong.

"'There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.'"

"And for me, this perfect emotion is sincere and unique," she declared, her blue eyes looking at Pierre with deep affection.

"So—"

"Following the Lord's will, I no longer fear the punishment born of love, nor do I want to hide anything anymore," she concluded, her gaze resolute.

"I love my adopted brother, just as he loves me," she confessed, her voice filled with emotion.

"..."

[You hadn't expected Jeanne to use the content of the doctrine to refute the attack from the court.]

[But you were very happy.]

[Because you knew this was the most effective way—she was using her own understanding to fight back against the enemy in front of her.]

[Along the way, she was no longer the timid and cowardly adopted sister.]

[And—]

[This could also be considered a confession from the bottom of her heart.]

[Although the situation was a bit awkward, it still made you feel incredibly warm.]

Jeanne's words caused everyone present to whisper among themselves.

It had to be said that the passage she quoted perfectly countered the court's words.

The public's emotional inclination changed once again.

The words they spoke at this moment might not have been exactly the same, but they all vaguely revealed the same meaning.

——"It's not that unacceptable for Jeanne to marry her brother."

——"This is allowed in the Lord's doctrine."

This was by no means the effect the court wanted to achieve.

They quickly abandoned the idea of continuing to attack Jeanne on the matter of marriage.

Despicable gazes quickly scanned the remaining parchment, and soon many new accomplices were called upon.

"Why did you organize wars and destroy the friendship between England and France?!"

"You are blaspheming the Lord's name!"

"But the Lord never told me that so-called friendship meant stepping onto a friend's territory and then making the people living on those lands live a life of food and clothing shortages," Jeanne retorted, her voice filled with conviction.

"I am just trying my best to prevent such a thing from happening," she added, her gaze steady.

"..."

"Why do you wear such conspicuous clothes during wartime?!"

"The Lord should have said that humility and lowliness are qualities that each of us should possess," the inquisitor stated sternly.

"But the Lord also said, take up your weapons and drive out the enemy," Jeanne countered, her voice clear and strong.

"The so-called conspicuous clothes are just a manifestation of my determination," she concluded, her blue eyes looking at the inquisitor with unwavering resolve.

"..."

[The court threw out many questions.]

[And Jeanne didn't refute—she was just sincerely stating her intentions.]

[But this was already enough to become a powerful response.]

[The theologians of the court were rendered speechless by this illiterate blonde girl, as if she was the one who had studied theology for decades.]

[They had no choice but to throw out the final question.]

"Jeanne D'Arc."

"Since you insist on refuting our every statement with the Lord's doctrine... do you want to prove that you have received the grace of the Lord?"

This was a question full of traps.

According to the existing doctrine, no one is allowed to admit that they have received the grace of the Lord;

If Jeanne admitted that she had received grace, it would mean that she was a heretic who didn't understand the doctrine at all;

But if she admitted that she hadn't received grace, it would prove that the previous statements refuting with doctrine were all nonsense.

This was a question with no escape.

Even Pierre hadn't thought of how to answer it properly.

However—

Such a question had no meaning in front of Jeanne at all.

She clasped her hands together, struck a pose of prayer, and then said in the most sincere tone,

"I... do not know if the Lord has truly bestowed grace."

"But if I haven't—"

"I hope the Lord will bestow it upon me at this moment."

"And if I have—"

"I hope the Lord will enable me to improve in this regard."

"I want to save my beloved France, and then spend the rest of my days with the person I love."

This was the girl's most sincere wish from the bottom of her heart, and at this moment, it directly shattered the court's despicable question.

In everyone's eyes, they could only see a devout believer, a person who loved their France.

And—

A wife who deeply loved her husband.

How could such a girl be someone who needed to be judged?

The square fell into a deathly silence.

It silently announced the failure of this verdict.

[The court urgently called a stop to the trial—they felt that if things continued like this, Jeanne might overturn all the English people's perceptions.]

[And under pressure, they had no choice but to temporarily release her.]

[In everyone's sight, you and she reunited in the square.]

"Brother~"

"Jeanne."

Amidst the gazes of thousands, the two kissed deeply.

A deadly trial seemed to have passed just like that.

But—

Was it really so?

On the highest building in the city, Prelati stood there.

The wind blew through her hair, creating waves of purple.

She raised the ancient book in her hand.

Instantly—

A powerful magical force spread out in all directions, dyeing everything it touched blood red.

Prelati shouted loudly,

"In the name of R'lyeh, I call upon the name of Beelzebub!"

"At this time, in this place, all things obey my will!"

The girl's gaze fell on Jeanne, who was embracing her adopted brother, her eyes already full of hatred.

She hated her holiness.

And... that excessive doting from him.

"Englishmen—"

"Go and burn her to death in this city right now!"