joan of arc

A bonfire lit in the middle of the old market square swallowed Joan of Arc. Before she lost consciousness, she remembered her native village. When her enemies destroyed her, she decided to stand up for her country. Just a few years later, Zhanna turned from a simple rural girl into a people's commander. She was not destined to see victory. Burning at the stake, she could not even think of the respect with which new generations will remember her. She was defeated and captured a year ago, and for the past few months she has been on trial, during which the most absurd accusations were made and fake evidence was heard — all in order to send her to the stake. Jeanne was ready to die. She did not think that the smoke would ever dissipate, and certainly did not expect to wake up in a completely unfamiliar country. Dumbfounded, she looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. The crowd of peasants, the market square and the flames disappeared somewhere, and Jeanne found herself on a quiet street among modest houses. Before she had time to think that this was some kind of miracle, she was almost knocked down by a bunch of children who ran past laughing. A young hostess immediately leaned out of the nearest window with apologies, and the children, smiling confusedly, stared in fascination at the stranger who had come from nowhere. Jeanne couldn't help laughing and ruffled the hair of the baby closest to her. Due to the unexpected relocation, Jeanne, who had been entrusted with the great task of protecting her native country, did not know what to do now. She wandered around the village until one day she came across a small chapel. Doubting for a moment, Jeanne still went inside and listened to the prayers of the monks. Will Dara, the goddess of Esperia, bless this stranger? Jeanne stood in the chapel and looked at the icon of the unknown goddess, but did not pray to her and did not feel the warmth of the divine light. The residents of the quiet town received a guest from other dimensions, and for the next few days Jeanne lived and worked among them like an ordinary young woman. She lost her sword a long time ago. Sometimes regretting it, she still understood that the civilians needed simple tools more. However, sometimes Jeanne heard the neighing of horses as she passed by the stables, and admired the reflections of the midday sun on the blacksmith's hammer. On such days, the chaos and the roar of battle filled her dreams again. I wonder how things are at home. Will we win? And what can I do while I'm stuck here? A little later, Jeanne changed her mind. It was a stuffy summer evening, Jeanne was collecting bell orchids in baskets, which were drying on the balcony. She liked these flowers because they reminded her of the blue-purple irises that grew near her house. Suddenly, she heard the distant ringing of a bell on a cart pulled by a donkey. Jeanne looked back and saw several merchants rushing headlong towards the village. One of them was waving his arms and shouting something about a demon attack. The merchants were covered from head to toe in mud and blood, they rode on their donkeys, forgetting about the carts with precious cargo — speed was more important to them that evening. The donkeys were also terrified and did not pay any attention to the threats and blows of the merchants. The animals were running around like crazy, and one even threw the rider to the ground. Jeanne watched in amazement as the old priest hurriedly led his young brothers out of the chapel. He bent over the fallen merchant to help him up, and told the brothers to help the others or run. Only after that, a huge bell sounded in the central square. His deep voice reverberated in the evening sky. He was calling to the villagers, whose faces were resolute and sullen in the glow of the torches. One old man told his grandson to hide in the house, and the priest kept praying to the gods for help in the battle. More and more young men and women gathered in the square. They clutched axes, sickles, hoes and other tools of all imaginable shapes and sizes. No one had taught them how to fight, but it was obvious that this was not the first time they had dealt with demons. It turned out that demons were constantly tormenting this peaceful-looking village. Jeanne joined the young villagers without hesitation, and they amicably headed for the main gate. The girl found a long and uncomfortable sword at one of the villagers, and was glad, squeezing its handle, that she had not forgotten the years of training. Looking around, Jeanne thought that the villagers reminded her of someone: she saw the same resolute expression on the faces of old comrades. During the lull, they often told each other about their native places: endless fields of wheat, herds of lazy sheep and rows of jars with pickles. Sometimes they talked about how snow falls on the roofs of houses, or how the millstones creak at the mill. In battle, it was these memories that led them forward. Jeanne smiled and, waving her sword, rushed with the others straight at the demons. It was the first time she had fought such creatures, but it didn't matter. She won't let anyone break through her defensive formation, whether at home or here in Esperia. Together with her comrades, she fought for her home. A few days later, Jeanne went to the capital of the empire. The old priest told her that there she would be able to meet other guests from other dimensions, and maybe together they would be able to find a way to patch up the rifts between the worlds. Jeanne was thinking about her destiny: to liberate her hometown and country. But before she went home, she decided to serve the people of Esperia.