[Airhead, I've defected.]
[Don't contact me anymore; I'm afraid Jeanne Alter will misunderstand.]
When Alaric's message reached Artoria's mind, she was in the middle of discussing the next battle strategy with Martha.
"What's wrong?"
Martha clearly saw that Artoria, who had been composed and confident just moments ago, froze, her smile turning rigid.
At the same time, the golden ahoge atop her head shot up, as if transforming into a perfect exclamation mark.
Artoria remained silent for a full three seconds before slowly exhaling, calming herself.
"It's nothing."
The king's face once again displayed a confident, victorious smile.
In her twenty years as a king, she had faced countless unexpected situations, naturally forging a heart unshaken even by the collapse of mountains.
As for Alaric's "defection"... though it sounded hard to accept at first, upon reflection, it was likely part of his own plan, wasn't it?
"It's perfectly normal; we were never truly aligned."
Artoria understood the nature of her relationship with Alaric.
It wasn't the hierarchical bond between a king and her Knights of the Round Table... it was the connection between a white dragon and a red dragon, a deity and a holy king.
They were close, their goals largely aligned. But their methods and ideals... they had never truly been on the same path.
"The plans will need some adjustments."
"The evil dragon Fafnir, a formidable foe... it seems we must take Siegfried's strength more seriously."
"According to Siegfried, he's found a true saint... Martha, try working with that saint to see if we can reverse the contracts binding us."
"This way, this city will become a true trap... if she dares to come, we'll ensure she never leaves!"
Gazing at the sunlight outside the window, the king's face bore a smile of certain victory.
...
The same afternoon, under the same sky.
In a place bathed by the same sun.
While Artoria was diligently crafting tactics, Alaric, now well-fed and content, was lying on a haystack with Jeanne Alter, who had gotten herself covered in soot from her attempts at roasting meat.
... On a pile of hay in the pasture.
The haystack, exuding a fresh, herbal scent, glowed golden under the sunlight. Lying on it felt like becoming one with the sun itself... even the witch intent on destroying the world temporarily set aside her anger to savor this fleeting moment of tranquility.
"Did you know?"
After a long silence, Jeanne Alter suddenly spoke.
"I'm not actually Jeanne."
She turned her head, looking at the white dragon's large head beside her. She didn't know if this dragon could understand her... or perhaps it was better if he couldn't.
"Even though I have all the memories of that village girl named Jeanne d'Arc."
"Even knowing all her thoughts and feelings."
"But I know I'm not her."
"That woman... she never felt anger or despair, never cursed this country or the people living on this land."
"Even at her death, she was confessing for the people of this land, praying that the divine would forgive their sins."
"... Ridiculous, isn't it?"
Jeanne Alter's lips curled upward.
Her face displayed a mocking smile, yet her eyes held no trace of amusement.
She couldn't even bring herself to hate that woman.
Because she knew one truth: she was merely that woman's shadow... the silhouette cast on the ground when the sun shone upon her.
Such a being couldn't even be called a "fake."
"The root of my existence is anger... my anger will destroy this world and, ultimately, destroy me."
This seemingly brash, easily deceived woman understood her true circumstances better than anyone.
Whether her "revenge" plan succeeded or not, she, born from anger, was destined to perish.
...
Alaric looked at the girl before him.
This was the first time a girl had opened her heart to him like this.
Was it thanks to being a different species? If he had taken human form, this prideful Dragon Witch surely wouldn't have shared such words with him, would she?
At this thought, Alaric first felt a pang of guilt... but then he grew serious.
Because he suddenly realized he had made a grave mistake in his understanding of Jeanne Alter:
Until now, he, Martha, and Artoria had all approached her with the mindset that "she must be redeemed."
It was only natural.
Anyone who learned of Saint Jeanne's fate would feel pity and indignation. They would want such an exceptional girl to have a fulfilling ending... not to be burned at the stake, and certainly not to become a vengeful witch after being burned.
But now, after hearing Jeanne Alter's "heartfelt words." Alaric realized they had made a critical error:
Jeanne Alter was not Jeanne at all.
She didn't need redemption, nor had she ever desired it.
Before this, she had indeed existed as Jeanne's "shadow" in the heart of someone with ulterior motives... but when that person used the Holy Grail to summon her into this world, she became a true being.
To be precise, a true "life."
And as a life, regardless of the power at her core, one thing was certain:
"The joy of living."
As a living being, she was bound to celebrate the joy of life and reject the arrival of death.
Jeanne Alter was even more so.
Because she knew her fate was destruction... whether she died alone or dragged this era down with her.
"So, what she truly needs now... isn't some so-called redemption."
"It's to live like a true human!"
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