Chapter 71

Jeanne watched attentively, checking for anyone hiding, but apparently found no one.

"It seems like there's no one here. For now, it seems safe."

Griffin, who was closely following her, looked around, paying attention to the corners, like the tall grass and the trees, while listening to Jeanne's words.

"That's true. I'll take another look."

Jeanne glanced at Griffin, who continued searching for possible hiding spots. She resumed scouring the area for any sign of hidden people.

"I'm sorry," Griffin said. Jeanne was confused and turned to him.

"What are you talking about?"

Griffin looked around, avoiding direct eye contact with Jeanne. "Well, I kind of blamed you for Antoine's death. I realized it was a foolish thought because I experienced that responsibility myself. What I mean is, I had no idea of the weight of commanding someone before that."

"But it was my fault. I could have done more, but I trusted. If I could, I would have changed things. You don't need to apologize for anything." Jeanne doesn't believe that she's not at fault, to her, if she had done something different, she could have altered the outcome. However, she didn't. It saddens her just to think about it.

"You're not to blame, you didn't know," Griffin tried to console Jeanne, but his tone revealed his sadness.

"Well, there's nothing more I can do..." Jeanne muttered, disheartened. But then she spoke without showing her sadness anymore. "It seems like there's no one else here, it seems safe." Jeanne looked in all possible directions but found no one.

"True, it seems safe." Griffin realized that Jeanne changed the subject; she still blames herself for what happened. Griffin doesn't understand why, but for him, she blames herself for every death that could have been avoided. The two returned to where Rémy and the others were.

"There's nothing ahead. It's safe," Jeanne announced when they arrived. She went to Rémy, mounted on her horse, and held his hand, seeking comfort. Holding the hand of her future husband always calmed her.

Rémy looked at her and noticed a hint of sadness on her face, but Jeanne quickly regained her usual expression. Rémy decided to ask her what had happened to her along the way.

"Let's keep going," he suggested. They resumed walking, entering a tree-lined road where the sunlight seemed to fade away between the leaves of the trees. François looked around but only saw vegetation and tree trunks, holding his bow firmly.

"What happened? Are you sad?" Rémy asked, his heart filled with concern, eager to discover the reason behind Jeanne's sadness.

"Nothing happened. I was just lost in thought, reflecting on the things that could have been different. Don't worry, I'm fine." Jeanne forced a smile, trying to convey the feeling that everything was okay.

"Are you sure?" Rémy's concern persisted, his curiosity driving him to uncover the truth. His eyes delved into hers, seeking signs of sincerity.

"Yes, I'm fine. Like I mentioned, I was just thinking about all the possibilities that could have unfolded if I had another chance." Jeanne didn't back down, holding Rémy's gaze firmly. He could glimpse the genuineness in her eyes. Seeking comfort, he held her hand.

"We can't change the past, but the future... that we can shape. Let's make the most of every opportunity that comes our way." Rémy longed for Jeanne's happiness, or at least to see her less burdened. He didn't want her to get lost in thoughts about what had already happened but rather to direct her mind towards the future.

"Yes, I will do my best. I will give every drop of blood I can!" Jeanne felt revitalized, although she couldn't completely forget the past, she now knew she would have Rémy by her side.

"And what about the future, Sir?" Guillaume asked, approaching Rémy's horse. He had already drawn his lance, just as Griffin had unsheathed his sword. Despite Jeanne indicating that there was no danger, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"What future are you referring to? Will I still have to fight?" Rémy didn't understand Guillaume's question. He didn't pick up his lance since he didn't sense any immediate threat. Moreover, he was confident that he wouldn't be caught off guard by any enemy attack.

"Sorry, I'm not referring to that future. I'm talking about another one." Guillaume smiled, his eyes attentive to Rémy's movements.

"And what would that other future be?" Rémy remained confused, unable to grasp what Guillaume meant. Being taller because he was mounted on a horse, he didn't worry about picking up his lance. After all, why would he grab it if there was no imminent danger?

"The future where you go to hell!" Guillaume uttered with a cold, emotionless gaze. With a precise movement, he attacked Rémy with the lance. Rémy didn't expect this to happen. He didn't perceive any danger from Guillaume, after all, he was the one who had trained him and knew him so well. Absorbed in his thoughts, Rémy wasn't on guard.

Rémy felt the lance piercing his neck. If only he had his lance in hand! He could have prevented that lance from piercing his neck, as it did. Unfortunately, he wasn't holding it. Rémy could only stare into the cold eyes of his assassin, an uncontrollable fury flooding his mind. How could this happen? He had built a life for himself, managed to prevent Jeanne from being captured in the historical period they knew. Even though he didn't know much about her history, he knew the year she would be captured and believed he had altered the course of events. However, with his death, he realized he had only postponed the inevitable. His dreams shattered, everything he had planned went down the drain. And all because of a moment of carelessness he could never have imagined. Rémy, known as the Crimson Demon, met his end.

In his final moments, a series of thoughts assaulted Rémy's mind, foretelling his imminent departure. He envisioned a scenario in which he would perish alongside Jeanne, sitting in a chair while their children surrounded them. It never crossed his mind that he would meet death at the hands of someone he himself had trained. How could he even imagine such betrayal? In a sense, he trusted the bonds he had established with Guillaume, at least in what he believed to be an unbreakable connection. However, rooted in the fear that constantly haunted him, even though he transmitted that fear to his allies, who the hell would have the courage to confront him? What deranged soul would risk facing him? Yet, this illusory trust, this mistaken assumption, had brought him to this sad fate, a death he considered pathetic. After all, he desired a peaceful passage, preferring not to succumb as a warrior, even though he harbored a passion for battle.

Jeanne, on the other hand, averted her gaze from Rémy at the exact moment of the attack. Her reaction was one of astonishment as she glimpsed the gush of blood emanating from her beloved's neck. His head had been separated from his body. A cold whiteness invaded her mind as she helplessly witnessed her husband's murder, the brutal severing of his head from his torso. Tears flooded her eyes immediately, and she promptly leaped from her mount. Rémy's horse became enraged and kicked out at Guillaume. Upon realizing the danger, Guillaume used his lance to defend himself from the horse's kick but was thrown violently aside. Jeanne passed Rémy's horse, heading toward his lifeless head, speaking aloud as if Rémy could still hear her. "I'm here! Look, Rémy! We're getting married! Can you hear me? Huh? Are you listening?" The words flowed from her mouth with the conviction that they would reach Rémy's absent ears. "See, Rémy, we'll have our children! Please, come back! Realize that I'm here!" Jeanne's tears streamed down her face like a waterfall, falling onto Rémy's lifeless face with his eyes open. That intense blue of his eyes had faded, turning into an empty, lifeless blue. Jeanne's hand began to radiate a light akin to a small sun, in a desperate attempt to bring him back, but it was all in vain. "Ahhhhhhh!" A heart-wrenching scream escaped her lips, like a deafening echo of her sorrow, tearing every piece of her heart into agonizing agony. All the dreams and plans they shared dissipated, abruptly vanishing.

"You damn traitor! What have you done?" Griffin exclaimed, bursting into rage against Guillaume, who had been kicked by the horse. He fiercely advanced toward the betrayer. Griffin never expected Guillaume to betray someone he considered close, even closer than the other members of the team. "I will cut off your head in the most cruel manner possible!" Griffin shouted, Jeanne's cry echoed in Griffin's ears, transmitting the piercing pain she experienced. The surrounding environment seemed to darken, not just metaphorically, but the heavy clouds unleashed their fury in the form of rain. "François! Help me annihilate this damn... ah?" As Griffin ran, he turned to François, seeking his support in the fight, aiming to eliminate Guillaume more swiftly. However, before he could proceed, an arrow pierced his forehead like an insignificant insect finding its hiding place. François's eyes filled with tears at the atrocity he had just committed. He felt miserable for murdering Griffin. François stared at Griffin's lifeless body, surprise reflected in his eyes, for he never expected François to perpetrate such an act. A feeling of self-disgust overwhelmed him, but how could he abandon his sword and his daughter in the hands of the English who had captured them? He knew he could have asked for help, but they would be killed! The emotional burden was unbearable.

"Excellent shot, François! Now, bring down Jeanne!" Guillaume shouted, infusing his words with cruelty as he praised François's accuracy. François stared at him with fury, incredulous at the heartlessness of that soulless man. How dare he utter such words without any remorse? "I'm here... I'm..." Jeanne held Rémy's head, pressing it against her chest, where her heart beat erratically. François bit his lower lip, feeling the overwhelming pain that engulfed her. However, he knew what needed to be done: he would make her faint. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention." François aimed his bow in the direction of the mare, knowing the animal would try to protect Jeanne. He shot a volley of arrows toward the animal, which, unfortunately, had nowhere to flee since François had hit Jeanne. The mare bravely positioned itself in front, seeking to shield her. François risked everything, but he was right. The mare took the blow. Jeanne heard the last whinny of the poor mare. She turned to look, but her vision quickly turned to darkness. "I see you've finished. Let's take her to Rouen," Guillaume's voice was heard by François, having knocked Jeanne unconscious with a precise strike from the tip of his bow to her nape. Guillaume, with his arm wounded from a bite, made his presence known: "Damn horse. It managed to bite me!" Guillaume clicked his tongue as he tended to his wound, emanating frustration and pain.

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