JOAN OF ARC

The flames in the middle of the old market square had already engulfed Joan of Arc. Before losing consciousness, memories of where she had grown up flashed in front of her eyes. The destruction of that beautiful village had served as her motivation, making her determined to protect her home. In just a few short years, Joan the country girl had become Joan the country commander. But she would not see victory. Of course, the Joan burning in agony as flames surged around her did not know of the glittering honors bestowed upon her by future generations. She had been defeated and captured a year ago, and for the past several months had been facing the most absurd accusations — a show trial with sham charges, aimed solely at sending her to the stake. Braced for death, Joan never expected the smoke to clear, let alone to wake up in a completely different place. Astonished, she looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Gone was the crowded throng of peasants, the market square, and the raging flames. Instead, she looked out upon a peaceful street, lined with rows of modest houses. Before she had time to think if this was some kind of miracle, she was almost sent flying by a bunch of children as they ran past, laughing joyfully. A young housewife immediately poked her head out of a nearby window to apologize, while the group of children stopped to stare at this strange new arrival, shuffling and grinning awkwardly. Joan couldn't help but laugh, as she reached out to tousle the nearest child's scruffy hair. Her sudden, surprise relocation meant Joan, once entrusted with the weighty task of defending her country and her home, was at a total loss as to what to do. She wandered aimlessly around the small village, eventually coming across a small chapel. Hesitating only briefly, Joan entered the chapel and listened to the monks intoning their prayers. Would Dura, goddess of Esperia, bestow her blessings on this stranger? Joan stood in the chapel and looked at the portrait of the goddess, yet prayed not to this unknown divinity, nor felt the warmth of the Divine Light. The inhabitants of the tranquil little town accepted their dimensional visitor, and in the days that followed Joan lived and worked among them as if she was but a normal young woman. Joan had long since lost her sword but, while she felt the occasional pang of regret, she knew that ordinary farming tools were of more use to the peaceful residents. Sometimes, however, she would hear the familiar neigh of horses as she passed the stables, or be dazzled by the noonday sun glinting off the blacksmith's hammer. Those days, she knew that the chaos and din of battle would once again invade her dreams that evening. I wonder how my home is faring. Can we win? But what can I do, anyway, when I'm stuck here? After some time, however, Joan changed her mind. It was a sultry summer eve, and Joan was putting bell-mouth orchids, laid out to dry on the balcony, into baskets. She loved these beautiful flowers because they reminded her of the blue-purple irises which grew around her hometown. Suddenly, the distant sound of jingling bells from a donkey cart reached her ears. Joan looked around and saw several merchants rushing into the sleepy village, one of them waving his arm and shouting something about a Hypogean attack. Covered in blood and grime, they rode their donkeys without their trailing carts, having sacrificed their bulky cargo for speed. The donkeys seemed terrified too, and ignored the threats and whips of the merchants. They rushed about madly, and one of them even threw its rider to the ground. As Joan stared, dumbstruck, an old priest hurriedly led several of his younger brethren out from the nearby chapel. He crouched down to help the fallen merchant back on his feet while telling his brothers to help others or flee. Just then, the huge bell in the central square tolled. Its deep, resonant rings reverberated through the evening air. The bell called forth the villagers, the light cast by their flickering torches revealing resolute, grim countenances. One elderly man ordered his grandson to go inside, while the priest mumbled prayers for divine aid in battle. More and more young men and women assembled, clutching a variety of axes, sickles, hoes and other makeshift weaponry. While they may not have had much formal training, it was clearly not the first time they had faced a Hypogean threat. It would appear that this apparently peaceful village had been suffocating in the shadow of the Hypogeans. Joan joined the group of young villagers without a second's thought, striding with them towards the entrance of the village. She took a long, unwieldy sword from one of the villagers, its unfamiliar heft making her thankful she hadn't forgotten her fundamental training. Looking around her, Joan thought that the faces of the villagers looked familiar. Then she put her finger on it — the faces of her old battlefield comrades had often held the same resolute expressions. In times of peace they'd tell each other of their hometowns: the rippling fields of wheat, the lazy flocks of sheep, the jars of pickled produce. Or maybe they'd speak of snow falling softly onto pine roofs, or of grinding, crunching, creaking millstones. Then, in times of war, it would be these memories that drove them to the battlefield without hesitation. Joan smiled, brandishing her sword as she joined the others in rushing straight at the Hypogeans. This was her first experience of fighting such creatures, but it mattered not. None would be permitted to breach the warriors' defensive line, fighting as they were for their very homes — whether in her own hometown or in Esperia.

Several days later, Joan departed for the imperial capital. The old priest had said that other dimensional visitors could be found there, and perhaps together they could find a way to fix the dimensional rifts. Joan thought of her mission: victory and freedom for her hometown and her country. But, before she could find a way home, her blade would first come to the aid of the people of Esperia.

"You're welcome. This is but a token of thanks to Esperia."

Has visit scenes with Joan of Arc.