The journey to Orléans felt like an eternity, though it had only been a matter of days. The French forces marched through the desolate countryside, their boots kicking up the mud of the road, the air thick with the scent of decay and death. For every step they took, the weight of what lay ahead grew heavier. Orléans was no longer just a destination—it was a looming challenge, a place where the tide of the war could either break in their favor or consume them entirely.
Jay had not spoken much during the journey, his mind consumed by the recent bloodshed, by the loss of the boy, and the unsettling awakening of his Arc blood. It was becoming harder to control. He could feel it surging through him at times, almost as if it had a life of its own. He knew that the upcoming battle would be a turning point, but he was unsure whether he could fully wield the power growing within him without losing himself in the process.
Beside him, Joan kept her usual pace, her posture straight and her expression unreadable. She was a force of nature, the embodiment of determination, but Jay knew her better now. Behind her eyes was a flicker of uncertainty—she, too, understood the enormity of what they were about to face. She was the beacon for the soldiers, the one they looked to for guidance, but even she had her moments of doubt.
The wind whipped through the trees, bending the branches with an eerie creak. The further they traveled, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The landscape seemed to close in on them, as though the earth itself was preparing for the coming storm.
As they approached a small clearing, the sounds of battle reached their ears. Distant clanging, the shouting of soldiers, the dull thud of arrows striking shields—these were the harbingers of what was to come. Jay felt the tightening in his chest, the strange stirring within his blood. He knew that Orléans was within their grasp, but they would have to fight through the English forces waiting at the gates.
Joan halted at the edge of the clearing, raising her hand to signal the rest of the soldiers to stop. The quiet that followed was deafening, the tension in the air palpable.
"We're close now," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of the responsibility she bore. "We need to prepare for the final push. This will not be easy, but we will break their lines. We will take Orléans."
Jay met her gaze. His heart beat faster at the thought of what they would face. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, his grip steady despite the growing storm inside him. He was ready for this. He had to be.
But a shadow of doubt lingered in the back of his mind. The power within him was shifting, threatening to burst forth. He had already killed, had already tasted the blood of his enemies. But this—this would be different. This battle would not be a mere skirmish. This was the moment that would determine everything.
As they moved forward, the soldiers began to prepare. The tension was thick in the air, and the soldiers knew what was coming. There was no need for speeches or words of encouragement—every soldier here knew their role. They were bound by the same purpose, the same drive to see this war end, to drive the English from French soil.
Jay walked beside Joan as they neared the final stretch of their journey, the gates of Orléans coming into view. The towering walls of the city loomed over them, and the English flag fluttered defiantly in the wind. It was a symbol of occupation, a sign of their dominance, but that would change today. Jay could feel the surge of anticipation building within the army around them. They were ready.
The English forces, too, were preparing. From their vantage point, Jay could see the distant silhouette of soldiers lining the walls, the flickering torches that illuminated the perimeter of the city. They were waiting for them, expecting an assault. But Jay knew they had the element of surprise. The English did not expect this particular force to arrive so quickly, so decisively.
"They'll come for us as soon as they see us," Jay muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the walls.
Joan nodded, her face hardening with determination. "And we'll be ready for them."
The battle would not be long in coming. The French soldiers moved into position, gathering their weapons, sharpening their swords, preparing their bows. Jay could feel the weight of the battle settling on his shoulders. He could feel the Arc blood stirring within him, the power begging to be unleashed.
"Are you prepared for what's ahead?" Joan asked, her eyes meeting his once again. There was no fear in her voice, only a quiet certainty.
Jay nodded slowly, though inside he wasn't entirely sure. "I don't know if anyone can be truly prepared for this."
Joan's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then we'll face it together."
With a final glance toward the towering gates of Orléans, the French army began to move into position. The first arrows flew, their whistling sound cutting through the air as they flew toward the walls. The battle for Orléans had begun.
Jay felt the surge of power within him, felt his blood roar as he lifted his sword. He would fight for France. He would fight for Joan. And he would fight for a future that had yet to be written.