I chuckled softly, narrowing my eyes slightly, making my smile as mocking and disdainful as possible.
Yes, I mocked her, insulted her.
When people are mocked and insulted, they lose their reason, their minds ignited by fury—and then, they enter a state where they are easily manipulated.
As expected, just as I predicted, Witch Joan of Arc raised her head, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, teeth gritted.
A grand fury was about to erupt, as if she had returned to that day, consumed by flames and filled with hatred.
“Tsk…
As I thought, I really do have to kill you…”
“If you want to try, feel free.
I’m quite curious if you can actually do it in your current state.” Since we were sent to this era, it meant we had no weapons or armor.
This gap in strength made me quite confident.
“If that’s all, then control isn’t the goal.
You should think carefully, weigh your options, lest you lose the life you so narrowly obtained—we are both departed souls who have now regained life; how can we not cherish it?”
Witch Joan of Arc didn’t move further; she just stared at me, scrutinizing me.
Is she afraid?
She must be afraid, right?
An enemy that cannot be defeated no matter what stands before her, wearing a mocking smile, exuding an evil aura, and speaking malicious words.
If there truly were demons in this world, they would probably be like me, wouldn’t they?
So, what should one do when facing a demon?
Muster the courage to fight?
Or be dominated by fear and flee in panic?
However, she is not a Saint; she calls herself a Witch.
A witch can curse mortals to death, but she is helpless against an Evil Dragon that has crawled out of the abyss.
Run away…
The first thing life learns is to run.
The skill life should learn most is to learn to give up.
However, once the fleeing begins, fear will spread and turn into panic.
When the demon cannot be shaken off no matter what, life will yield, life will beg for mercy.
At this moment, as long as a tiny bit of benefit is given, life will be deeply grateful, imagining the perpetrator as a savior and the malicious one as innocent.
Thus, submission turns into taming.
Then, after spending a bit more time together, memory and consciousness will choose to beautify everything in a haze, mutating taming into unshakable loyalty.
I am a tyrant; I am the Evil Dragon King.
I used this method to unify Britain and conquer numerous kingdoms.
Now, using this method to control a witch from the past is just as easy.
I advanced with slow steps, as if time were gradually slowing down.
As long as I walked up to her, I wouldn’t have to do or say anything; she would run, she would step into my trap.
But…
Gurgle…
A very loud stomach growl.
In this quiet suburban night, it was as clear as the moon in the sky.
The sound didn’t come from me, nor from Mordred behind me, but from the girl before me who smelled of scorched earth.
Almost instantly, fear evolved into another emotion, and a deep crimson blush bloomed on her face.
I stopped.
Then, in as gentle and dreamlike a tone as possible, I asked—
“How many days?”
“…W-what?”
“I’m just a bit curious—you, how many days has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“I just had a big feast yesterday.” As if feeling that wasn’t very convincing, she added: “…A very grand feast, the taste was alright, enough to fill anyone up.
Anyway, I’m not starving to death yet, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“So, you haven’t eaten today, right?”
“…What does that have to do with you?”
“There’s an empty room where I live; you can stay there.”
This was an invitation to her.
If she were left alone in this state, she would surely cause trouble.
Though I didn’t know the true purpose of coming to this era, I still wanted to live a few days as a normal person—I’ve been busy my whole life; it’s time for a vacation.
Although going to school couldn’t be called a vacation, it was at least much easier than being a king.
Witch Joan of Arc rolled her eyes, full of rejection and disgust.
“Setting aside others, as for you…
forget it.
I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Why?
I’m not asking you to be an attendant; I’m only asking out of a desire to help.”
“You, you’re the King of England, aren’t you?
Even though I’m a witch, I’m not so lowly as to seek help from the King of England—of course, if you want to be poisoned to death by me, or die from some other accident, that’s fine too.
Anyway, I find your arrogant look quite annoying.”
I frowned slightly.
Not because of her attitude, but because of a certain word in her speech.
“Let me remind you, King Arthur is the King of Britain, not the King of England.”
“…Is there a difference?
Isn’t it all that same island?”
“I am an ancient Briton, not an Anglo-Saxon.
My kingdom’s name was Albion, not England.
Moreover, the King of England during your time was not Anglo-Saxon, but French, right?
The House of Lancaster was a branch of the House of Plantagenet, and the House of Plantagenet was a branch of the House of Anjou.
The Kings of the Plantagenet-Lancaster dynasties challenged the French crown in their capacity as Dukes of Normandy, Aquitaine, and Gascony.
Strictly speaking, the Hundred Years War was a French civil war; it was only for political purposes that the King of France emphasized the other party’s status as the King of England.
Had they won the Hundred Years War, the Lancaster monarchs would certainly have established their capital in Paris and taken the title of King of France as their primary one…
or merged the two crowns to establish a dual monarchy, much like Scotland and England later did.”
The woman’s expression wasn’t quite right.
The more I explained, the more her eyes wandered.
By the time I finished, her eyes held nothing but confusion and drowsiness, exactly like those students who fall asleep in math class but must force themselves to stay awake.
“…Don’t you understand?” I asked out of politeness.
However, she didn’t answer.
She even dazed for a moment, blinking her eyes with a look of utter bewilderment.
I thought for a moment, shifting from evoking fear to tame her to guiding her thoughts toward common ground.
“Think about the Pope’s attitude, and the attitudes of other nations.
The Hundred Years War was a feud between the House of Anjou and the House of Valois; it has nothing to do with what later generations preached.
The Duke of Burgundy repeatedly switched sides, and neither of those two parties ever truly said anything about it, did they?
From a legal and diplomatic perspective, it was indeed a French civil war…
So, even if you insist on seeing me as the King of England, you don’t need to harbor such a grudge.
You are a witch, aren’t you?
You should consider your own interests.”
“…I don’t want to work for the Britons anyway!” She lifted her head, pretending to be a person of principle, using arrogance to mask her insecurity.
“I’m not interested in your convoluted logic!
I’d rather sleep on the streets, I’d rather be burned alive, than sleep at your place!
If you want to blame someone, blame the English for praising you so much!
They treat you like an ancestor and want to replicate your great cause of world conquest!
So, bye-bye, King Arthur!
I hope we never meet again!”
Saying this, she turned and began to walk away.
But she didn’t seem to notice that the path she was taking led toward the wilderness; she was going the completely wrong way.
In fact, I had noticed long ago that she had been lost for a while, otherwise she wouldn’t have ended up on this abandoned street.
“Wait, you can’t leave,” I called out to her anyway.
She turned halfway, bluffing with a determined expression.
“So it’s going to be a fight after all?
Do you think I’m someone who’s afraid of death?
I’m not even afraid of being burned alive, so why would I fear your threats?”
“I just have a few more questions for you—you say you are a witch.
Well then, after arriving in this era, have you killed anyone?”
“I slaughtered two little punks who didn’t know their place.
What about it?
They had ill intentions toward me; am I not even allowed to defend myself?”
“That is a very serious problem.
I am not King Arthur right now, and you are not the Witch Joan of Arc.
We have each been given new legal identities.
You killed people, and even if they were thugs with ill intentions, any act of killing does not comply with the laws of this era.
You are completely unaware of your identity and make no effort to hide your actions.
If you continue to wander this city, you will soon be discovered by the police of this country.
Even if you used mystical means to kill those two, you will still be tracked, questioned, and face countless troubles, and then your life will become miserable.”
“Ha…
Are you trying to intimidate me!
Do you think I’ll be scared by your words!”
She was clearly terrified.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have rejected everything in one go without even analyzing it.
I let out another breath.
Considering some of her strange remarks, I tried to ask about a basic fact: “When you first woke up, there should have been a package near you, right?”
What package?”
“…The package you have in your coat pocket.”
“Oh, you mean this.” Saying this, she took the package out of her pocket.
It was a leather wallet, looking quite stuffed, clearly containing something.
“What about this package?”
“There is a passport or similar identification inside.
It shows your current identity and your purpose for being here.
There should also be debit and credit cards in the bag; you can use these two types of cards to buy things.
Although the amount won’t be huge, if you spend sparingly, you won’t have any problems living for at least a year.
You haven’t eaten today and have been wandering the streets; you surely didn’t know this, did you?”
For some reason, after hearing my words, the woman’s face turned even redder, almost rivaling an apple.
Despite having pale skin similar to mine and Mordred’s—skin close to that of the dead—it could actually turn that red; it was truly an eye-opener for me.
Soon, she turned around and walked toward the distant darkness, looking extremely embarrassed, as if some shameful secret had been made public.
She looked like she wanted to flee from here immediately or find a crack in a rock to crawl into.
However, because of the pressure I had applied and the fear I had sown earlier, she didn’t seem to dare to run away.
Even though it was a deserted street, she was so scared that she felt she had nowhere to run, even blindly planning to flee into the wilderness.
And so, both she and I were frozen in place.
“Are you…
illiterate?” I frowned slightly, my voice involuntarily carrying a hint of pity.
“Eh?
Illiterate?
But Father, can’t we all understand japanese?” Mordred asked curiously.
“If I remember correctly, the historical Joan of Arc was born into a wealthy peasant family in the Lorraine region.
In that era, education was a very expensive service.
Joan was not a noble, and she was a woman; it’s only normal that she’s illiterate.” After a pause, I explained further: “We can understand japanese because we inherently know multiple languages.
It’s like grafting a branch from another fruit tree onto one; that branch can bear different fruits and might even grow better.
But if one is completely illiterate, that branch is just discarded on the ground and can never grow into a large tree.
Therefore, she cannot understand what is written in the documents, nor does she know the purpose of bank cards.
She only brought them along because she felt they might come in handy in the future.”
The Witch Joan of Arc’s face turned even redder, almost purple, giving me the illusion that she was about to suffocate.
But she still refused to speak, or perhaps she was too ashamed to speak at all.
I had no choice but to exhale for the third time.
I swapped the plastic longsword to my left hand to show a friendly attitude, walked up to her, and extended my right hand.
As if approaching a cat with its fur standing on end, I asked cautiously: “Miss Jeanne dArc, now that things have been explained this far, you must surely know that I mean no harm?
Now, I would like to assist you in checking the information on your identification, and while we’re at it, go to the nearest ATM to check the bank card information.
Will you refuse this time as well?”
“And what if I don’t want to?
Was that attitude of yours just now supposed to be how you ask someone for a favor!”
This woman, seeing that my attitude wasn’t so forceful anymore, had actually become arrogant.
I frowned slightly, turned to look at Mordred behind me, and gave her a look.
Mordred immediately understood what I meant.
She stepped forward, her right hand tightly gripping the plastic longsword.
Scarlet lightning crackled, ruthlessly striking the ground, causing it to fissure and shatter.
“I say, you fellow called Jeanne, have you misunderstood something?
When did you think Father and I ever intended to ask for your opinion?”
“Tch…!”
The witch raised her right hand.
Three charred and slender wooden stakes appeared out of thin air beside her right hand, flying out like javelins.
She must have used this method to kill those two nameless vagrants.
However, despite calling herself a witch, the speed of these wooden stakes was truly pathetic, not even matching the speed of a conventional arrow.
Dark red lightning mana enveloped the plastic longsword that was supposed to be a toy.
The longsword was swung rapidly by its master like an iron rod, knocking the three wooden stakes away.
They fell to the ground with a thud and then turned into mana, dissipating into the air.
Aside from a scorched smell and the scent of the lightning strike, nothing remained in the air.
“Mordred, use your armor.”
“Yes, Father.”
Following my command, thunder roared.
The light of the lightning turned the street, which was only illuminated by streetlights, into a hellish scarlet.
In the center of the lightning stood a knight clad in deep gray armor.
The armor was hideous and evil, flickering with a demonic red light.
A third of the twisted helmet looked like an Evil Dragon, a third like a demon, and the remaining third like man-made machinery—but that was actually not armor, but a part of the body.
The current Mordred was no longer a knight, but an Evil Dragon barely maintaining a human form.
A dragon flowing with my bloodline, taught by me, second only to me.
My beloved child.