After reaching an agreement, Gilles mounted his horse again as the soldier turned away from us. Thirty days... I hoped that would be enough. I turned to Reynald abruptly.
"We only have thirty days, and then we need to scram. Is there a way to open a rift to a different era?"
He just grinned at me; it seemed he already knew what to do. Now was not the time for that. I turned to the soldiers and kept up with them. One thing still wasn't clear to me: what was my burden as an author?
The walk to the nearest town was lengthy yet quiet; a shiver ran down my spine as if something or someone was watching us from afar. Whatever it was, I didn't want to find out.
After a long walk, we finally arrived at the front gate of a town — Orleans. I wondered if the infamous maid was around. If I wasn't wrong, this was the exact date when Orleans was liberated by the saint.
"This is the nearest town to us as of now. Some accommodations were burned and destroyed. But since you're neither a guest nor a foe, suit yourself,"
Gilles said. It seemed that not even civil infrastructures in this era were safe from impending destruction.
"Sir Gilles, pardon me, but have you seen Jeanne?"
I asked. Part of me wanted to meet the legend herself, but at the same time, I remembered that we were currently at war with the British regime.
"Jeanne? What business do you have with the sister? Has her name reached Paris so fast?"
I nodded. Of course, it would be weird for someone who claimed to be from Paris to have heard of the Maid of Orleans when they were miles away.
"I... see... That's unexpected. I can't imagine a messenger from Orleans would reach Paris in a day. But then again, I'm proud that our dirty job here received recognition."
He had his suspicions, but hopefully, the lies would do me a favor this time.
"I have to return to the front gate. I permit you to wander around the market. But be warned, we have eyes in this town — I'll be watching you."
Gilles tugged at the rein on the horse's neck as the horse galloped away from us, disappearing into the distance. I looked at Reynald, his arms crossed above his chest.
"What's the purpose of bringing us here?"
He grinned and walked over to me.
"Well, first of all. As Timeless Authors, we are to change the fate of this world to how we see fit. Of course, I didn't intentionally bring you here; the rift takes us to a random location and time."
He pulled out the gospel from his bag again.
"And as to your earlier question, this book is the key to summoning a rift. It's simple — write the sacred creed, and the scripture will do the rest."
Sacred creed? And what could that be? The Timeless Authors, sharing but the same creed... perhaps I had already written the creed before.
"You said we can change fate to how we see fit. Tell me, what does 'fit' mean to you?"
Reynald let out a sigh. He leaned against a wooden porch, his eyes boring into mine.
"To me, there's no singularity for an ideal fate. But I think we can change fate to assert justice that has been lost."
I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
"And that is?"
His expression turned serious, his confidence cracking slightly. For a moment, he seemed hesitant to let it out.
"The martyred saint — we can change her fate."
He pointed between me and him. My eyes widened as I grasped the implication of his words: changing history for the better. It was tempting, but was it really possible? I looked at him from top to bottom, yet there was no sign of deception.
—Penning a new chapter...