Chapter 38 - Patay (1)

"Jean!" Joan's delicate cry reached her knight's ears.

Without needing more words, one of the ten knights by Joan's side charged out from the group, taking with him a group of at least fifty calvary.

Leonel's gaze shifted to the flagpole in Joan's hands but his face remained expressionless. He was certain that it was invisible to others, but he had very clearly seen a line of Force leave Joan and enter Jean's body. In that instant, though it was difficult to get a read on Jean's stats since he was riding his horse, at the very least, his steed itself had a 10% increase in all of its physical stats.

The army was riding through plains currently, but there was a forest up ahead. Seemingly realizing that something was wrong, Joan sent a squad of fifty as the vanguard.

'So that's Jean Poton...' Leonel thought to himself, running alongside the horses with Aina by his side. Quite frankly, he wanted to ride a horse as well. But, he simply didn't think he had the time to learn, so he hadn't even tried.

According to history, Jean's action routed the English's sneak attack attempt and put them on their back foot. Because most of the hidden English forces were long bowman, the losses were devastating and completely tilted the battle in their favor. This battle ended completely without a siege.

'But that... Is definitely not like history...'

Leonel's sharp senses caught wind of something odd hidden within the shadows of the vanguard calvary. He had never seen something like it before, but it was more than enough to raise his alertness. As for Joan, she either hadn't noticed, or pretended not to. Leonel found it too difficult to read her.

In stride, Leonel pulled his atlatl from his hip fixing a dart to it and sending a line of silver piercing through the air.

He was quite aware of the kind of discipline an army needed, and was even more aware of how frowned upon it was to act without the words of your commander. But, Leonel was playing his role as a commoner. How would a commoner be aware of such things?

His dart zipped through the air, causing a sharp intake of breath by the men still charging with him. The reason was that his throw was not only far too fast, but it went straight through the squadron of 50 as though without a care for their lives.

There was something that confused Leonel even more, though. Those shadows clearly hadn't had any malicious intent. In fact, that shadow in particular hadn't been targeting the knight, but rather the bowman hiding in the tree.

'Is that Joan's ability?'

Leonel and Aina flashed through the thin forest like two wisps of smoke. Their speed was faster than that of horses to begin with, so catching up with Jean's group hadn't been anything difficult.

As expected, lying in wait on the opposite side of the ambush and outside the forest, there was another group of Englishmen waiting. But, the disorderly sorry looking Frenchmen they were waiting for never appeared. Instead, Jean had perfectly formed up his squadron.

Raising his pike and roaring, he charged, a bright golden glow surrounding his power.

"In the name of God! For France!"

The front line of the Englishmen was blasted apart by a forcefield-like force. Their foremen were thrown from their stances, suffering severe broken bone before the battle even truly began.

Reality didn't deviate from history. In fact, with Leonel and Aina tacked on, the result was even more devastating. The Battle of Patay this time around wasn't just a resounding victory, it was a trouncing.

And, also just like history, the following weeks continued the trend. The French Army, under the leadership of Joan, swept through north-central France, leading a line of victories right to the gates of Reims where Charles VII would be crowned.

In that time, Leonel and Aina became no less famous than any one of Joan's knights. Though they didn't wear the armor, nor have the steeds, their results were undeniable. Joan didn't even attempt to rein them in, allowing them to act freely within the armies as they saw fit.

Barely over a month, several territories around Paris had fallen and the threat of the Burgundians — traitor French of the last generation — fell along with the English. In just a few more days, Charles would be officially crowned in Reims, the very place the near fall of their Nation started.