Shattering Humanity-Chapter 350: The Creation Of A Female Legend Part 3/3

"And consider ships: Though very large and driven by fierce winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So too, though the tongue is a small part of the body, it boasts great things. Consider how a small fire sets ablaze a large forest. And the tongue is a fire. The tongue, a world of unrighteousness, is placed[b] among our members. It stains the whole body, sets the course of life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell. Every kind of animal, bird, reptile, and fish is tamed and has been tamed by humankind, but no one can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison." -James 3:4-8

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On top of the tallest building in the small 15th century French village, is a petite cloaked figured. The ’Archangel DæMon’.

Once again from a dark shadow inside of the hood, two blue eyes glow while watching the 2nd Generation DæMon lead her small team. The powerful DæMon’s ocular sensors different from her future red and blue heterochromia, squint in a smile.

Archangel DæMon: "Now go and create your legacy, young one. Prove the Valkyrie fighting spirit still lives. Learn the true art of warfare, and gain experience for our future.

But once these pathetic, weak, and scared humans turn on you, the same individuals who put their hopes of sanguinity upon you.

I will be there to show you mercy, and in return, you will help me build a powerful army."

Her blue eyes look up into the cloudy grey sky.

Archangel DæMon: "My sisters believe she is dead, but I know the time will come..."

Joan looks behind her nods at her possé and flicks the reins to her horse. The group takes off from the city gates and follow a dirt path.

Archangel DæMon: "The time to defeat Skalmönd, whenever she returns..."

[Later That Night]

Underneath the stars, the lonely crickets call out into the evening air.

7 different patterned horses are standing up while they rest after the pack’s days travels.

Around a fire, Joan and Jean are the only two in the party of 7 left awake. The other men accompanying the prophetess to Chicon are snoring or turning in their quiet sleep.

A long legged spider crawls up the arm of one snoozing soldier but for the unfortunate arachnid, the man turn to his side and squishes it against the ground.

Around the campfire, keeping watch over her vulnerable crew from ambushing enemies, Joan is roasting a rabbit on a skewer.

She rotates the half cooked meal, then uses her gorgeous pink eyes to look up, and stare at the bright half moon.

Joan: "It’s a beautiful night, aye ’leader’?"

Her reliable and trusted accomplice, Jean has his helmet off but only the back of his head is seen.

His dark brown, shoulder length hair is finally exposed from his metal helmet while off duty.

Jean de Metz: "It is such a night of which that makes a soldier reminisce while in the midst of war...but please, in none of God’s accounts am I your leader, Madame Joan.

Due to military regulations, a peasant, nevermind a female, can’t be the leader of a march of officials, but rest assured, all my orders will be the devoted echoes of your guidance."

The woman warrior wearing men’s clothing blushes from the verbal commitment while continuing to slowly rotate her catch over the controlled flame.

Joan: "Your attempts to flatter me Jean, they fall on deaf ears.

Many swooning men over my lifetime have put in the time and energy, even lied, to have me abandon my vow of abstinence.

I appreciate your efforts, but I have been given a mission from the Lord himself and I assure you my garments shall stay shut."

The man waves his hands in front of his tunic covered chest to reject the accusations.

Jean de Metz: "Please Blessed Maiden, don’t mistake my words of endearment as anything of such disrespect."

There is an awkward silence as the man takes a moment to think of the right words to save himself from the misunderstanding.

Jean de Metz: "I was present that day you first appeared in Vaucouleurs, on your initial attempt to gain an escort to Chicon to see King Charles VII.

At first, I thought the rumors about you were just another myth..."

Joan takes the well done cooked rabbit away from the fire, and inspects her chef skills while continuing to listen to her friend’s explanation.

Jean de Metz: "...But the fact it took the general himself to throw you out by the ear, both Bertrand and I could somehow tell your divine integrity was sensible.

Not to mention your eyes..."

Will taking a bite right from the skewered food, Joan’s pink eyes look up and connects with eyes with the color green matching the Yang Vessel.

Jean de Metz: "...Your eyes are something I have never witnessed before, but that just adds more security to my conscious decision."

Without anybody noticing, not even the easily startled horses, a small silhouette lays on the back to one of the sleeping beasts. Listening to the authentic discussion between a male human and female human.

[27 Days Later]

{Chicon, France}

In the spring afternoon, Joan and her troops emerge from the forest. In the distance, at the end of the straight road, there is a beautiful commune alongside a large body of water, and a fortified kingdom on top of the elevated land.

Jean rides up next to the prophetess on his horse that is all white, but a black flailing tail.

Jean de Metz: "No matter your genitalia Blessed Maiden, we all will defend your word. Even if the King and his people discredit you otherwise."

Without taking her determined stare away from the breathtaking sight of the strategic structures and medieval imagery from the snapshot distance, the 2nd Generation DæMon nods.

[3 Hours Later]

In the marketplace at the base to the walled off kingdom Joan, Jean, and Bertrand walk amongst the common folk.

The concealed squires have their armor and faces covered once again while walking through town.

In the "leader’s" has a jingling goat skinned sack closed in his grip, the man left in charge of the funds turns to the true captain holding up what is left of their royal monetary provisions.

Jean de Metz: "I can’t believe it!

All by yourself!

You actually convinced the King to provide us with enough compensation to upgrade our small fleet in promised to secure his seat on the thrown."

Joan: "Not fully convinced, yet.

We still have to travel to Poitiers to be granted monarchy trust.

After splitting the 425 livres properly to the others, we still need to stock up on supplies before battle."

The clanking and sizzling of hot metal being dipped in water makes the touring trip stopin front of a blacksmiths armory.

Bertrand de Poulengy: "As well as upgrad the armor for our iron souled maiden!

Hahaha!"

Joan half smiles at the thoughtfulness of her squadmates. Soon after, the neighs and whinnying heard close by quickly distract her.

Alongside the blacksmith shop, a selection of horses are tied up and are being sold off.

Jean de Metz: "Oh yea.

It wouldn’t hurt to trade in your mare for a destrier built for wa-."

Joan: "No!"

Both men are taken aback by the sudden interruption to the suggestion.

A few shoppers passing by give side eyes glances towards the woman dressed in men’s clothing, shouting at soldiers in public.

Slightly embarrassed, she lowers her tone and stares at the ground.

Joan: "le Puccelle is blessed and shielded with my shared soul as long as I ride her.

I can provide her with more strength then the most perfectly bred battle stallion."

Unaware to the concept of a "SharedSoulSeiõrShield", the confused but willfully accepting men quietly look at each other through the slits in their helmets.

Just by random vision movement, Joan sees a familiar, small, black cloaked figure standing in the middle of the shopping foot traffic.

A happy couple walks in front of the spying Scandinavian witch and by the time the man and woman pass completely by, the cloaked individual is gone.

The young woman takes a deep inhale.

Joan: "Instead, we will use those funds for medical supplies and booze.

Both will be useful when we attempt to combine our resources with any ally forces."

Chuckling off the scene, the two armored squires walk into the blacksmith’s shop with their divine general manager.

[Two Years Later]

{Rouen’s Vieux-Marché}

Public Announcer: "For the crimes of heresy and witchcraft, not only using blasphemy to tarnish France’s good name and it’s peoples, but also to coerce and hypnotize her peers with help from demonic forces!

Today, Jehanne Darc will be punished and publicly executed for her capital crimes!

Let all those who witness, heed God’s warning on this day!

You may believe you are getting away with your sins!

You may believe the powers the devil offers you can be used for good, but once repentance is no longer offered from His graces, He will expose and banish all of the malevolent snakes from His gracious garden!"

Gathered around the city, thousands of people are crowded around one area.

The dark cloudy day broadcasts it’s approaching rain as people watch a shaved headed woman in a red dress is right to a plastered wooden pillar.

At the back of the crowd, are two individuals wearing all black cloaks. One of them is L’Orient DæMon with her distinct patterns patches on, the other...

Pink eyes glow from the inside of the other cloak’s hood. She whispers softly to her ’divine guidance’ as so nobody around over hears her.

Joan: "I-I don’t know if this is right, ’Archangel DæMon’.

I mean, that woman... she is going to be burned alive in my place. I can’t live with myself knowing I let someone innocent die for my conviction, no matter if they were unfair and egregious."

From in the other cloak, the tiny DæMon who showed up three years prior and put this plan into action, picks her teeth.

Archangel DæMon: "She isn’t innocent, young ’Jean’.

That woman has been accused of not only sleeping with married men while her husband was off fighting in war, but she has also murdered two of her own children out of anger and neglect.

Her crimes and sins are more justifiable of this punishment than the ’ironically accurate’ but still inappropriate verdict appointed to yourself.

It’s just luck the both of you look the same when your heads are shaved.

By the way, when yours grows back, it will be blonde and straight."

From a distance, Joan can barely see as the tied up woman looks up, and she has matching pink eyes filled with sadness and regret.

The woman warrior immediately remembers the poor peasant girl she blew a kiss to a couple years ago.

Jean DæMon: "She killed...her own..."

The powerful half Valkyrie, half Völva has a sigh escape her but reassures her new partner.

Archangel DæMon: "If your morals still hinder you, as of right now that woman is in a trance that I have put her in since last night. She will feel no pain, nor know she has been ultimately punished.

In fact all she will do is..."

The fated, child murderer has a cross held in front of her face as the execution by burning is started.

As the flames grow and begin to ignite the unfortunate woman’s garments, she doesn’t scream in pain, but stares at the crucifix held by a bishop in front of her eyes as the flames consume them.

Archangel DæMon: "... subconsciously understand her sins, and willfully repent."

Starting as the reflection of the flickering of life forfeiting flames in Joan’s eyes, transition into flickering sparks of lightning and electricity from the electric chair in the current day DæMon’s torture chambers.