Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

That was the direction of Reims, the coronation site of Charles VII, the beginning of France's rebirth.

Your wife is in my hands.jpg

Chapter Fourteen: The Devil's Confession (4.3k)

At the open marble gates of Reims, soldiers, yawning and listlessly guarding the vital passage to the city center, hunched over their long spears.

Unlike the blood-soaked battlefield, this city exudes a sense of decay that is completely out of place on the front lines, like an old man in his twilight years.

Ancient yet conservative, peaceful yet dull.

Ding dong…

As the crisp sound of precious metal falling onto a tray reached their ears, the soldiers responsible for collecting taxes immediately perked up, their faces showing a hint of joy at having their evening's drinks covered.

However, when they looked up and around, trying to find the generous spender among the crowd, they only felt a gentle breeze and saw no one around.

The soldiers were taken aback at first, then rubbed their eyes repeatedly. After confirming that they had not found anything, they reached out and picked up a few gold coins from the tray to examine them closely.

It is evident that the edge is engraved with a circle of rose patterns, while the front and back are respectively decorated with a laurel wreathed woman's head and the symbols of an eagle and a wolf.

Upon handling it, its ancient design and luxurious gold content reveal its long history.

Moreover, the patterns on it seem somewhat familiar, very similar to...

At the city gate, a centurion, born into nobility and assigned to the rear to gain experience, weighed the gold coins in his hand. Inadvertently, as if he had thought of something, he subconsciously looked up at the hidden gate towering in the city center, and at the nearly peeling carvings and patterns on it, where familiar overlapping outlines could be vaguely seen.

Ancient coins of the Roman Empire?

The centurion shuddered violently, a wave of panic washing over him. His body, already weakened by wine and women, felt dizzy and lightheaded.

When the soldiers noticed their officer's unusual behavior and helped him aside, they heard about his strange discovery. They looked around suspiciously, and even though the sun was shining brightly, they couldn't help but shiver.

Could it be... a ghost?

The soldiers and centurions looked at each other, each somewhat dazed.

"It looks like we've been afflicted by something unclean. Maybe after our shift, we can go to church and get some holy water, or we can find a priest to cleanse us of the impurities."

An older, more knowledgeable soldier leaned close to his officer's ear and whispered his advice to the centurion.

“Yes, yes, yes! Our whole family are devout believers. We always pay the full amount of tithes to the church every year, and we never shortchange them. The priests at the church will definitely help us!”

Upon hearing this, the centurion was delighted, his expression calmed down, and he nodded repeatedly.

Lord, I serve you with utmost devotion, and your majesty protects me from harm.

The group silently prayed and immediately decided to go to confession together after their shifts were over.

However, after they finally calmed down and returned to their original positions, the inexplicable chill around them still made them somewhat uneasy.

It seems like the time before I get off work is going to be a bit tough.

The centurion looked again at the one-eyed veteran who was said to have retired from the front lines.

The veteran thought for a moment, and as he spoke, a glint of reverence shone in his single eye.

"Why don't we try praying for the Holy Maiden's blessing first? To be honest, I've been able to crawl out of piles of corpses several times by silently reciting that person's name in my heart."

Jeanne Darc? The country girl who was burned to death in Rouen?

The centurion, who was of noble birth, was slightly taken aback, somewhat skeptical.

Strangely enough, as he subconsciously did as he was told, driven by his survival instinct, the chill around him seemed to vanish instantly, and the warmth of the midday sun returned to him.

May the Holy Maiden protect you! May the Holy Maiden protect you! You must understand, our family has never stopped His Majesty from paying to ransom you, and we are even willing to work hard to participate in organizing the rescue operation.

The centurion, who had been nervous, felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He clasped his hands together and shook them repeatedly, praying silently in his heart.

Seeing this, the soldiers followed suit and offered sincere prayers to the saint who had perished in the flames, seeking psychological comfort in return.

So quickly he's been elevated to a pedestal?

Indeed, the dead are often more useful than the living...

At this moment, in a corner unnoticed by everyone, a figure blended into the darkness shook his head slightly, shifting his gaze from the absurd scene before him to examine the various traces left by time and history on this land.

The city of Reims has a very ancient origin, dating back to roughly between 450 and 200 BC.

Because of its remoteness from water sources and fertile soil, Reims was constantly harassed by northern barbarians. As a result, the original inhabitants of Reims had already chosen to submit to the Roman Empire during the Gallo-Roman Wars, and were incorporated into its territory, becoming the largest city in the northern part of the Roman Empire for a time.

Therefore, along the way, Samael witnessed many remnants of Roman architectural styles. For example, in the center of Reims not far away, there is the Mars Gate, built in the 3rd century AD. It is one of the four commemorative arches built to honor Emperor Augustus, which represent the four axes of ancient Reims.

In addition, the Hidden Gate from the Gallo-Roman period is preserved nearby. It is a semi-underground complex built around 200 AD, located beneath the marketplace of Duroctourum, and was a treasury of the Temple of Jupiter in Reims.

Perhaps that's why the toll he threw out made the already timid centurion think it was the ghost of ancient Rome haunting him, scaring himself.

Of course, what he was completely unaware of was that without his sudden, impulsive demonic gaze, those people wouldn't be in such a state of panic.

However, calling him the ghost of ancient Rome doesn't seem too far off...

After all, his impressive resume included a description of him having served as regent of the Roman Empire, so in a sense, he was a ghost wandering this land.

Samael, standing in the corner, shook his head self-deprecatingly, casually pulled up his hood, and blended into the passing crowd, becoming just another ordinary person, as he started walking towards the more central and bustling areas of Lance.

After wandering around for about an hour or two, Samael followed the scent of the saintess and arrived at a solemn and majestic Gothic building.

The lingering fragrance left by Joan of Arc vanished here.

Reims Cathedral...

Samael opened his lips and whispered, playfully calling out the name of the building.

Due to its ancient foundation, Reims is not only an important city in France, but also its famous religious and cultural center, known as the "City of Kings," and the land is steeped in the cult of the Virgin Mary.

Since the 11th century, French kings have been required to be crowned in this "coronation capital," which is the Notre-Dame Basilica of Reims.

He vaguely remembered that 25 kings in French history had been crowned at the Notre-Dame Basilica in Reims, including Clovis I, Louis I, Louis VIII, Charles VII, Louis XIII, and others, who were the founders of the Frankish Kingdom.

Therefore, Joan of Arc's conquest of Reims was a crucial step in putting Charles VII on the throne.

This place holds extraordinary significance for her and for all of France, and it was no surprise that it was the first stop on her return visit.

Is it not a bit too blasphemous to let a demon enter this Cathedral of Our Lady?

Samael raised his hand and stroked his chin, seemingly a little embarrassed.

That was...so interesting!

But then, the demon blinked its serpentine vertical pupils, a wicked smile appearing on its face, and stepped over the threshold without pausing, entering the church.

On a whim, the ancient snake, with the attitude of an ordinary tourist, curiously observed everything around it.

Looking out, the church's facade has a three-section structure, with two symmetrical spires standing tall on either side. As the sun sets, the entire church is bathed in golden light.

The patterns and statues covering the exterior walls of the church are also beautiful and delicate in line, especially the four standing statues on the right side of the central entrance on the front, which are masterpieces of the Gothic architectural period.

Later famous sculptures, such as "The Smiling Angel," "Maria's Attendant," and "Saint Joseph," strictly adhered to the orderly compositional standards, achieving a degree of near-symmetry.

Stepping inside, the cathedral's roof, supported by flying arches and columns, features dense, slender spires of varying sizes, layered upon each other, their rich and intricate stone chorus rising in layers, seemingly endless into the sky. The entire cathedral is like a museum that preserves time, its interior and exterior adorned with over 2300 sculptures depicting biblical stories.

Each angel, poised to take flight, possessed a human form, unlike the twisted and tyrannical creations of my memory.

In one corner of the church, a statue of Joan of Arc, bearing a military flag, is nearing completion and is quietly placed.

Samael learned from the discussions of others that this seemed to be at the behest of Charles VII.

Back then, after the liberation of Orléans, Joan of Arc inspired the somewhat timid crown prince to bravely travel to Reims, where he was crowned and ultimately secured his throne.

Incidentally, Joan of Arc, who was burned at the stake, was only a 19-year-old girl, while Charles VII, who was encouraged, was 28 years old.

Since Joan of Arc could not be rescued, and news of the Orléans saint being burned at the stake spread, this statue was added to the Reims Cathedral as a kind of solace.

As for Charles VII in the palace, whether his grief and remorse were genuine or a political maneuver to win over the army and prevent a mutiny, Samael had no interest in investigating.

After all, none of this matters anymore.

As Samael stood before Joan of Arc's statue, examining it with interest, the statue's empty right hand made him frown slightly.

"Damn it, it's just a few missing accessories! That coward Charlie dared to embarrass me in public over such a trivial matter!"

Samael's brief moment of contemplation was interrupted by a series of hurried footsteps and muttering curses. After disappearing from sight, he pondered for a moment and then found the source of the sculpture's incongruity.

The sword is missing; Joan of Arc should have carried one of her swords.

It seems that the Holy Maiden has already been here and even took some of her "relics" with her.

However, one wonders what an interesting experience it would be for that saintess to take back her own relics from the sculpture at the festival as a living person.

The ancient snake smiled playfully, unable to resist being curious about the answer.

"Tch, what's there to care about a mere country girl! Besides, she's dead now, who's going to put on this show for?"

A bishop, who had just returned from being reprimanded at the palace, stormed up to the sculpture. Seeing that no one was around, his anger still simmered, and he kicked the horse in the leg. His narrowed eyes revealed a disrespectful look.

"Could it be that you two are having an affair?"

I overheard the ladies-in-waiting in the palace who had served this holy maiden during her baths gossiping. They said she was a great beauty, and what was even more remarkable was that beneath that unassuming armor, she actually had a pair of impressive breasts, more substantial than those of the average nun.

Indeed, it's such a pity that they were burned to death like that.

The bishop raised his hand to stroke his chin, examining the somewhat alluring sculpture before him, a hint of malicious mockery creeping across his thin face.

Snapped……

Just as the bishop was lost in thought, a fair hand silently landed on his shoulder.

The sudden touch startled the bishop, who hurriedly turned his head.

“Your Excellency, I wish to confess to you.”

A handsome, deep-set man appeared in a corner of the church at some unknown time, quietly making a plea.

“Who are you? This is the apse! Who let you in! The church is the Lord's sacred place, and no one is to be overstepped. Get out! You…”

Just as the bishop was angrily rebuking the visitor for his earlier lapse in composure, the large, open bag of gleaming ancient coins in the hands of the pleading believer caught him off guard. His long face, usually so impatient, quickly vanished, and he managed to put on a barely passable, warm expression.

“Alright, child, tell me whatever you want to say. I’m right here, the Lord is right here…”

Upon hearing this, Samael smiled broadly, his vertical pupils splitting open and closing with petal-shaped cross-shaped light patterns, and the corners of his lips curled up in pleasure in the darkness.

"Then listen carefully to this confession..."

In that instant of eye contact, the ancient stars appeared in my mind, the burning flames brought searing pain to my soul, and endless murmurs of repentance and wailing of suffering pierced my skull like thousands of red-hot steel needles.

A few dozen breaths later, a thin, middle-aged man in tattered clothes ran into the street, scratching his bloody scalp and flesh in a frantic manner, shouting in terror, "I am guilty! I repent!" and incoherently confessing the evil deeds he had committed since childhood.

"Your Majesty Bishop!"

Immediately afterwards, several clergymen who had chased after him from the Basilica of Our Lady hurriedly restrained the disheveled man, but what they were met with was a frantic biting and maniacal laughter.

He's gone mad...

A few dozen breaths later, the bishop, who had inexplicably gone mad, was taken away by a group of priests dressed in black. The onlookers couldn't help but recall...

This appears to be the attire of the Inquisition, specifically used to deal with witches and heretics possessed by demons.

Is it...

People discussed it animatedly, and only dispersed when the excitement subsided.

The figures in the crowd, after enjoying a lighthearted performance, turned and left to continue their new pursuits.

However, after circling around the city a few times, he found himself unknowingly back at the city gate.

The ancient serpent sniffed the almost nonexistent lingering fragrance in the air, glanced up at the majestic palace, and a slight smile appeared on its lips.

They didn't even go in when they reached the door. Does that mean they've let go of the past?

Indeed, whether to save or not, right or wrong, truth or falsehood, it's all meaningless to discuss these things anymore.

The saintess's uprising was never for the sake of consolidating royal power or bestowing titles and lands, and perhaps she never harbored any resentment towards these petty, scheming people of the mortal world.

The happiness she dreamed of always resided high above Domrémy, above the golden, ripe wheat fields.

Forget it, let it go. It saves me from making a mess of things with my good intentions and indirectly creating a singularity similar to the Holy Round Table in Britain on French soil.

Samael murmured softly, a hint of approval in his eyes at the saintess's choice. He then turned and glanced back at the city before pulling up his hood and walking further and further away toward the horizon where the sun was setting.

written request for leave

Yesterday morning, I went to support the third round of nucleic acid testing in the township, responsible for scanning and entering the test data. In the afternoon, I went to register people returning home and explained the app operation process to the older people who were preparing to return. My head was spinning. Seven steps, three hours of communication, and still, the same old mistakes, the same old ones.

Suddenly, I realized how fortunate I was to have taught middle school students.