Chapter 62
"Sir! Duke Salisbury has passed away!" A soldier arrived breathless and terrified to Suffolk, who was mounted on his horse, urgently conveying the news.
"I noticed... He relied too heavily on his strength. Archers! Divide into two groups and advance from the sides!" Duke Suffolk, already aware of the death of another duke, mourned the significant loss for the English army but did not harbor sadness for the death itself. In a quick thought, he envisioned panic taking hold of the heavily armored soldiers, returning in despair after the fall of Duke Salisbury.
"Soldiers, halt!" Duke Suffolk lightly tapped his horse and approached the retreating soldiers.
"Cavalry!" Suffolk exclaimed forcefully to the cavalry. Swiftly, they charged ahead of the heavily armored soldiers, advancing on the French soldiers pursuing them.
"The night approaches..." Duke Suffolk uttered, fixing his gaze on the setting sun. He knew that this time victory would be unattainable. However, before retreating, he planned to make one final assault, intending to take a large number of Jeanne's soldiers with him.
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"Ah! Miss Jeanne, where are you heading?" A soldier positioned atop the wall exclaimed, surprised, as he witnessed Jeanne leaping from the defensive structure.
The soldier rushed to observe the outcome of that action, considering the height of the wall, it was likely that Jeanne would end up with broken legs. Or maybe not.
Jeanne whistled, and the city gate swung wide open. A white mare burst through the gate as Jeanne skillfully landed on the animal's back, heading towards the battlefield.
"She's gone..." The soldier contemplated the trail left by Jeanne, riding with grace and determination as she made her way into the chaos of the battle.
Jeanne had no intention of remaining idle while all this was happening, especially when she realized that soldiers from the other routes were retreating, leaving a void in the battlefield.
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The cavalry charge collided fiercely with the French soldiers, causing those on horseback or equipped with heavy armor to react quickly.
The clash of swords and spears echoed through the air as each soldier fought with all their might, not only for their own lives but also for the protection of their families and other motivations that drove them.
They gave themselves completely, delivering sword blows with determination, wielding their lances with skill, all in a desperate attempt to survive this relentless battle.
"Archers! Prepare to fire!" Suffolk shouted vehemently, giving orders to the archers who took their strategic positions. The cavalry moved in perfect sync, protecting the archers from enemy attacks. In response to Suffolk's command, a volley of arrows was launched toward the French army.
"May God protect us!"
A smile almost formed on Suffolk's lips, but that feeling was quickly interrupted when a melodic and elegant voice resounded across the battlefield, echoing like a powerful cry. The French soldiers immediately recognized the owner of that voice.
A radiant light appeared in the air, revealing a woman with long golden hair dressed in imposing silver armor. With her sword raised, mounted on a majestic white horse, she proclaimed her arrival with a divine aura. A wave of golden energy spread across the battlefield.
Every arrow touched by that light veered off its original course, flying far away from the battlefield. The soldiers who were injured but not gravely were instantly healed. The faces of the English soldiers filled with admiration, as did Suffolk himself, who witnessed something unbelievable. He fixed his gaze on the golden barrier that remained erected, questioning how she could be there. Could she possess the gift of teleportation? It was the only plausible explanation that came to his mind.
"Charge against them!" One of the French soldiers shouted, encouraging his comrades. Suffolk followed the gaze of that soldier, and his eyes settled on Jeanne, riding with grace and power. The sight of Jeanne was almost divine in Suffolk's eyes. Her golden hair shone intensely, contrasting with her firm and confident blue eyes. This image left Suffolk slightly intimidated. The French soldiers, covered in blood, seemed to radiate fierce determination, at least from Suffolk's perspective. The last rays of the sun illuminated the scene, making it even more impressive.
It would have been a truly beautiful scene if they weren't on opposite sides of the battlefield. The soldier next to Suffolk opened and closed his mouth, his eyes anxiously scanning in all directions, filled with fear and uncertainty.
"Fall back!" Suffolk shouted, turning his horse around. He could try to face her, but he knew he would be easily defeated.
"Sir! What about the catapults? And the other war machines?" The soldier asked, realizing that his commander was retreating.
"If you know how to bring them quickly, I would be grateful. Otherwise, don't retreat!" With that statement, Suffolk galloped away on his horse, the soldier following in his footsteps.
"But, sir, what about the soldiers in hiding?" The soldier inquired, concerned for their comrades.
"Leave them where they are. They will aid us when the time is right." Suffolk replied, determined. The soldier wasted no time in alerting the hidden soldiers about the change of plans.
"Will you pursue the enemies, Miss Jeanne?" the soldier asked, his gaze fixed on the retreating adversaries.
Jeanne cast a brief glance towards the fleeing enemies and answered with serene determination, "No, our army will attack when they are distracted." Then, with grace, she turned her horse in the direction of Gilles and François.
With a concerned look, Jeanne asked them, "Are you feeling better, my brave warriors?" Her eyes focused on Gilles and François, hoping for a positive response.
"Yes, thanks to you, Miss Jeanne. Our hearts are filled with gratitude," expressed Gilles, sincere in his appreciation. Thanks to Jeanne's blessing, their wounds had improved, although Gilles's shoulder still ached.
François, looking at the spot where the sword had pierced his chest, spoke in admiration, "The wound is completely closed." Although the surface no longer showed any marks, the internal scars from where the blade had struck remained.
Jeanne couldn't contain the sincerity in her words, "It's the least I can do, considering you both nearly lost your lives." Her compassionate gaze revealed the genuine concern she had for them.
A mix of fear and hope enveloped Jeanne as she inquired, "Has there been any loss?" She prepared herself to face the grim reality of lives lost. She had fought alongside her companions, but she fervently wished that her contribution had been enough to prevent fatalities.
The soldier next to Jeanne responded with a hint of relief in his voice, "Miss, it seems that none of our brave soldiers have lost their lives." He shared Jeanne's joy at having suffered no casualties.
A wave of relief washed over Jeanne, and a radiant smile illuminated her face. The soldiers around her were captivated by the beauty of that smile, which conveyed both gratitude and courage. "What wonderful news," she murmured, savoring the moment of respite amidst the battle. "Let's return to the city, my soldiers," Jeanne called out, her gaze encompassing all the visible soldiers. Her smile remained radiant, radiating a mixture of determination and hope.
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