That feeling was vastly different from the welcome I received from citizens when I led the army to liberate various towns. Back then, they had entrusted their dream of liberating their homeland and winning the war to me.
But Alma was different. She knew how Joan of Arc had died, and she harbored a certain... almost religious devotion toward Jeanne herself. The tragic Saintess who vanished amid the flames... that seemed to be the standard image of "Joan of Arc" spread throughout the world.
"The impact you had on the world actually far exceeded what you imagined."
That was what Alma said. Perhaps it was something to be proud of, but... somehow, it felt wrong.
When she realized this, Ruler's mood darkened somewhat.
From the perspective of "impact," it was indeed true that her existence had spread disaster throughout the world.
Jeanne shook her head... She could never forget, but it was not something worth agonizing over. She had to change her train of thought immediately.
That was already over. After being consumed by raging flames, if only she could have spoken with him, perhaps she could have comforted him properly.
But that had ended long ago. There was no possible resolution, nor any way to entrust it to the future.
Even so, she could only feel immeasurable regret that such a great marshal had met such an end...
Ruler pulled herself together and arrived at Mirenil Citadel. She had only been away for about half a day, but the gloomy atmosphere from dawn had already faded considerably.
Ruler stood before the city gates, and a Homunculus immediately opened them to welcome her.
"Is that Lord Ruler? Has the situation taken a sudden turn for the worse?"
The slightly stern gaze, the battle axe held at one side... This was