#Side Story 10. A trampled flower, blooming destiny (2)
* * *
It was a dream.
It’s so blurry.
Because everything is ambiguous.
When you open your eyes, you forget.
Still, it’s strangely vivid.
A one-night dream that could not be dismissed as a mere dream and ignored.
That’s why this moment.
She thought to herself.
No matter how vain a dream it may be.
If only I had taken it a little more seriously.
So, if I had truly tried to change fate beyond preventing disaster from the beginning,
I think I could have met a different ending.
Of course, that is a meaningless assumption.
No matter how much I regretted it, it was something that could never be undone unless I turned back time.
Because I know that fact very well.
When she closed her eyes.
Sigh.
overlong.
But too briefly.
The closed iron door opens and the shadow of a man appears in the dark stone room.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, teacher.”
“….”
“teacher?”
Calm and quiet.
Nevertheless, the white-haired man spoke in a particularly heavier voice than usual.
Her teacher tilted his head slightly, looked at her with deeply sunken golden eyes, and then opened his mouth again.
“There is no need for you to do this.”
“…Are you worried about me?”
“Is there a teacher who doesn’t care about his students?”
“is that so.”
If it’s obvious, it’s obvious.
But why?
That naturalness is somehow unfamiliar.
Just knowing that he still considers me his disciple makes my heavy heart feel lighter.
She said with a grin.
“But this is what I have to do.”
Was it because I felt a resolve that would never waver from that calm smile?
Just take a moment to look at her.
Her teacher eventually quietly closed his eyes.
“…if that is your decision.”
Just like that…
I quietly turned around.
Taking the lead and taking steps.
She bowed slightly to thank her teacher for respecting her choice, and then took a step forward after him.
Go out through the wide open iron door.
Through a long, dark passage.
Finally, the building where she stayed. In other words, the moment he escaped from prison and appeared under the bright sun.
“―She’s a witch!”
“The witch has finally appeared!”
she saw
Thousands… no, tens of thousands of people crowded into every corner of the field of view, from wide streets to building rooftop windows.
And beyond the fierce shouting, there were tens of thousands of pairs of gazes filled with deep anger, hatred, contempt, and resentment.
Who did that?
There is power in gaze.
In that sense, it is a curse.
It was a flood of malice that would make anyone with a weak heart feel heart-stopping shock and fear just by encountering it.
However, when she faced that gaze head-on, she was unfazed.
Because it was natural for her to receive such attention here.
“Dirty French prodigy!”
“You damned slayer!”
“You’re such a shameless witch that you dare harm the Sword King and then shamelessly crawl all the way to London to ask for forgiveness!”
Of course, he incited France, England’s good neighbor, to start a useless war and start a revolution, executing the rightful king, Charles VII.
They went on a mad march and massacred countless British people, regardless of age and gender.
On the subject of even murdering Richard I, the absolute King of Swords, who had elevated the prestige of the British Empire and, by extension, Europe, by providing selection for hundreds of years.
He received the hatred poured out by the citizens of London towards him for crawling to London on his own feet.
Instead of the nun’s clothes she usually wore.
Wearing nothing but an old mat.
Wearing handcuffs, not a sword.
She stepped forward with her white bare feet.
―From the entrance of the prison onto the sharp gravel like a knife spread in the middle of the street.
Let’s go.
Let’s take one step.
Stinging pain in the soles of the feet.
No matter how perfect the sword master was, he was still human in the end.
The skin, which is so soft as it is perfect, cannot withstand the sharpness of the pebbles with just the weight of the light body, and is slightly torn.
But that was just the beginning.
Let’s go.
Step by step.
Every time you move forward.
The wounds on the soles of my feet, which had been pricked, cut, and scratched by the gravel, gradually increased, and the pain also increased accordingly.
Still, she didn’t stop.
Enduring the pain that continues to be felt.
I just took steps.
The physical pain was not painful.
The citizens’ effort covered the entire street with only the sharpest gravel in the two days she was in prison after declaring that she would pay for her crimes.
How big is their resentment?
How deep is your sin?
It was so clear that I couldn’t help but suffer.
‘The hurt I gave everyone would be incomparably greater than something like this.’
If only you had decided a long time ago.
If only I hadn’t underestimated fate.
If you understood and forgave them.
Heartbroken by the pain of death and the sacrifice that never occurred, she continued to move forward.
I hope that my actions can soothe their wounds even just a little bit.
And is it fortunate?
Or is it misfortune?
It wasn’t just cobbled streets that London’s citizens prepared for her.
“Eat this, you damned witch!”
Pow!
Rotten eggs and fruits flew in from left and right, breaking into pieces and staining the already shabby ruins with a rotten smell.
What follows is a ferocious shout.
“My son died because of you!”
“Why did you annihilate our hometown? why?!”
“Hehe, the reason is obvious! Selling your body to the devil to gain strength wasn’t enough, so you probably even offered it as a living sacrifice. “Only then would I have been able to defeat His Majesty!”
“You prodigal woman! “Among the people you killed was a newborn baby!”
pain.
That anger.
That sadness.
own sin.
So much so that I want to cover my ears right now.
However, because she chose the path to no longer avoid her sins, she continued moving forward despite all the suffering.
Sigh!
He seemed even more angry at that sight.
The number of rotten eggs thrown by citizens increased, and some people even threw cesspits from roofs and windows.
From the beautiful platinum hair.
White skin without any blemishes.
Her beauty, which was famous even before she became a sword master, was quickly tainted by all kinds of dirt.
The bloody footprints that had appeared where she had passed were also swept away by the dirt and instantly erased.
Plop plop!
That might have been why.
Stones gradually began to mix among all the dirt that was flying in.
Just little things at first,
like I was worried about her retaliation .
However, when it was confirmed that she continued to walk quietly even after being hit by stones, the rate and number of stones increased.
Her body was covered in bruises in an instant due to the barrage of stones.
And….
Wow!!!
“Tsk!”
She was hit on the forehead by a large rock that flew particularly forcefully, and she ended up rolling on the gravel.
My forehead was broken by a rock.
I fell and got cut by gravel.
She was covered in blood.
Still, they didn’t stop slinging stones.
Because of this, she had to try to get up and fall again several times.
Other sword masters might not know.
All of her senses were focused on holding the sword, so without the sword it was difficult for her to get up from the baptism of stones.
“Save my dad!”
“A whore who will fuck with a dragon!”
“You want to ask for forgiveness? “Go to the afterlife and pray directly to the people you killed!”
Grumble.
That was why.
In the end, she gave up trying to get up and started crawling on her knees on the gravel.
As a result, the gravel cut all over my legs, and my already bloody body became even more bloody.
This was especially so because the citizens, seeing her miserable state, became even more eager to stone her.
If it weren’t for the sword master who had superhuman muscles…
no, even for the sword master, the amount of stones and blood flowing down on her was serious enough that her life would have been in danger if she continued like this.
nevertheless.
She never resisted.
It didn’t run away or stop.
This is something I was prepared to do from the beginning.
Because it was the minimum price she had to pay to atone for her sins.
-Even if I die like this.
Peeing!!!
‘…ah.’
That was why.
Among the falling stones.
Particularly sharp and fast.
A blade flying into the face.
The thing that contained powerful magical energy and was thrown with clear murderous intent was something she neither blocked nor avoided, but quietly closed her eyes.
And…
Pugh!
My flesh is pierced.
Bones crack.
Blood spurting out.
Hearing that sound, which felt scarier than any deathly sound I had heard countless times on the battlefield.
She opened her eyes, which she had closed reflexively, and soon became stiff.
Because I saw it.
A dagger that should have pierced his own face.
A hand blocked it and was pierced instead, dripping blood… and
its owner, a white-haired man.
“…teacher?”
She was mesmerized.
It wasn’t just because Limon protected him.
His action of sacrificing his hand to catch a dagger that could have easily been blocked or deflected.
And before she knew it, the sight of him walking the same path she had walked barefoot, wearing the same rags as herself, made her harden.
“why…!”
“The disciple’s sin is the teacher’s sin.”
“…!”
“So, if you want to atone, it would be right for me to atone as well.”
All military departments.
A teacher is like a parent.
A disciple is like a child.
He calmly said that he was just doing what he had to do as a teacher and looked at her with calm eyes.
“So, you too, finish what you have to do.”
Guilt, sadness, stuffiness, etc.
After looking up at him with an indescribable face filled with all kinds of emotions.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
I woke up shakily.
And then he started moving forward again, leaving bloody footprints on the sharp gravel.
Citizens who had been throwing stones and dirt at her just a moment ago had no choice but to watch.
Right behind her.
The sight of the white-haired man following his disciple, leaving bloody footprints with a dagger in one hand, made them stiffen.
“Why… why are you helping that bitch? Even if that witch is your disciple, isn’t Your Majesty also your close friend!”
It seems like he couldn’t bear the unfairness.
He stopped walking for a moment when someone shouted.
And he spoke calmly, looking straight at the people who shouted, including the person who shouted.
“Because he was a close friend.”
“What is that…!”
“At least the sword king I know, Richard, would have thought it rather insulting for the person who defeated him to die in this way.”
“…!”
A man who would have smiled and been satisfied with the outcome of the duel even if he lost his life.
That is Richard the Sword King.
He said he was his proud friend.
They gritted their teeth and looked at Limon, who spoke calmly and started walking after her again. Eventually, they dropped the rocks they were holding along with tears.
So…
under everyone’s hatred.
On a quiet street.
Bleeding on the gravel.
After crossing London.
Finally, the desired destination.
When she arrived in front of the cathedral where Richard the Sword King’s coffin was placed, she quietly knelt down on her knees.
It is symbolic in many ways that she, a sword master and commander-in-chief of the French army, kneels in front of the Sword King’s coffin.
It was also an act that signified France’s actual surrender and, moreover, an apology on behalf of the country.
But I know this is not enough.
Because I still feel vivid hatred.
To change fate again.
She opened her mouth.
“I, Jeanne d’Arc, hang up my sword and swear to the Lord that I will renounce all positions and never set foot on French soil for the rest of my life.”
That is.
A French saint.
The invincible and undefeated commander-in-chief.
It was the moment when Joan of Arc vowed to leave her country forever…
…and the moment when her fate, which could never change, was twisted.
