The morning was cool, the sun barely peeking through the clouds as the camp buzzed with activity. Horses neighed, soldiers trained, and officers reviewed maps and strategies. Inside her tent, Joan of Arc was finishing her review of a map outlining their advance routes. Despite her focus on the task, her mind was elsewhere.
The vision from the previous night kept replaying in her head. *Leonardo Marchand does not belong to this time...*
She took a deep breath, gathered the maps, and stood with determination. The time had come to confront the truth.
### **The Encounter in the Camp**
Joan walked with a firm step to the area where Leonardo Marchand was performing manual labor under the watchful eyes of the soldiers. Since his capture, he had been assigned tasks to earn his keep. At that moment, the young man was cleaning pieces of armor alongside other prisoners and servants.
Joan approached with her characteristic commanding presence, causing several soldiers to stand at attention.
"Marchand," she called in a calm but firm voice.
Leonardo looked up, surprised by the unexpected visit.
"Would you accompany me?" she asked in a softer tone.
Leonardo glanced at his dirty hands and the pieces of armor he hadn't finished cleaning. Then, respectfully, he bowed his head.
"Of course, my lady, but... may I finish my duties first? The soldiers ordered me to do this, and I wouldn't want to disobey them."
Before he could finish speaking, a knight in dark armor, with a stern expression, delivered a sharp kick to his side, causing him to stagger.
"Insolent! You do not keep the Maid of Orleans waiting."
Leonardo fell to his knees, clutching his side with a pained expression, but instead of showing anger or defiance, he gave a tired smile.
"My apologies..." he said weakly.
Before the soldier could do more, Joan intervened.
"Enough!" Her voice rang out with such authority that everyone in the area fell silent.
The knight hesitated, but Joan stepped forward with a severe look.
"I will not tolerate abuse in my camp. Leonardo Marchand is now under my charge."
The soldiers exchanged glances, some uneasy, others surprised.
"But my lady, he's a prisoner. We don't know if he can be trusted..." the knight who had kicked him dared to say.
Joan glared at him.
"Are you questioning my judgment?"
The knight pressed his lips together and lowered his head in submission.
"No, my lady."
"Then leave," Joan ordered firmly.
With no other choice, the soldiers obeyed and dispersed. Joan turned to Leonardo, who was still on the ground, recovering from the blow.
"Can you walk?"
Leonardo nodded with a faint smile.
"Yes, it's not the first time I've been kicked for questioning an order..."
Joan watched him for a moment before extending her hand.
"Come with me."
### **The Revelation**
Once inside her tent, the atmosphere became more solemn. Joan gestured for him to sit on a small wooden chair while she remained standing, arms crossed.
"First of all," she said with a calm but firm expression, "I want to apologize for how you've been treated. I should not have allowed my men to abuse their authority."
Leonardo, still in pain, shook his head with a faint smile.
"You don't need to apologize, my lady. I'm used to that kind of treatment. I've always been the odd one in my time..."
Joan stared at him intently.
"You say that as if you're used to being different... and you are."
Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. Leonardo felt a chill run down his spine.
"What do you mean?"
Joan took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts.
"Last night, I had a vision. God spoke to me."
Leonardo blinked.
"What...?"
"He revealed the truth about you, Marchand."
Joan took a step forward, her intense expression making the young man feel a knot in his stomach.
"You... come from the future."
The silence in the tent was deafening. Leonardo froze completely, his eyes wide.
"What... what did you say?" he whispered, unable to process it immediately.
Joan kept her gaze steady.
"God revealed it to me. He told me you are not from this time, that your knowledge is not something an ordinary man could possess. He has commanded me to trust you, because without your help, my fate will be terrible."
Leonardo felt an indescribable vertigo. He had never spoken to anyone about the truth. He had always clung to the idea of hiding his origin, of not altering history... but now, a woman from the Middle Ages, a saint in the eyes of many, claimed to know his secret.
"This... doesn't make sense..." he whispered.
Joan leaned slightly toward him.
"Do you deny it?"
Leonardo opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His thoughts swirled rapidly, trying to find an explanation, a convincing lie... but he knew that in front of Joan of Arc, with her unshakable faith, any excuse would be futile.
He lowered his gaze, his breathing uneven.
"What... what do you plan to do with me?"
Joan straightened.
"Nothing."
Leonardo looked up, surprised.
"Nothing...?"
"God has told me to trust you. And that is what I will do."
Leonardo felt his chest tighten. All this time, he had feared being discovered, feared being treated as a heretic or a madman... but she, the holiest woman of her time, accepted him without hesitation.
Joan knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You are different, Marchand. I don't know why God brought you here, but if He has willed it, then you and I share a destiny."
Leonardo felt a lump in his throat. He had never been a man of faith, but at that moment, seeing the conviction in Joan's eyes, he felt that his existence in this time was no accident.
---
The air inside the tent grew heavy after Joan's revelation. Leonardo was still trying to process what he had just heard, his mind tangled in chaotic thoughts. Someone discovering his secret was one thing, but for it to be *Joan of Arc*—who claimed to have received God's command to trust him—was utterly overwhelming.
Before he could react, Joan stood with determination, crossing her arms. Her imposing presence, combined with the way the candlelight illuminated her silhouette, made her feel even more formidable.
"Leonardo Marchand," she said his name with a solemn tone, as if proclaiming an unbreakable decree, "from this moment on, you are mine."
Leonardo felt his heart skip a beat.
"What...?" he blinked several times, feeling the heat rise to his face.
Joan took a step forward, leaning slightly toward him, her eyes filled with unshakable resolve.
"God has told me to trust you, that you are key to the fate of this war and to mine. Therefore, from now on, you will be my property."
Leonardo's jaw dropped.
"Property...?"
Joan nodded without flinching.
"That's right. You will be my tool to win this war. Everything you are, everything you know, you will put it at my service. Your knowledge of the future, your skills, your mind... it all belongs to me now."
Leonardo felt a shiver run down his spine. Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans, was telling him, with absolute nonchalance, that he now belonged to her.
He swallowed, feeling his face burn.
"That sounds... a bit extreme..."
Joan tilted her head with a serene expression, though her eyes gleamed with determination.
"If you prefer, consider it a divine contract. You have no choice."
Leonardo felt his breathing quicken. His life had completely changed in a single day, and now, Joan of Arc herself had claimed him as her own.
He brought a hand to his face, trying to hide the slight blush that had involuntarily appeared.
"I never thought the Maid of Orléans would be so... domineering..."
Joan didn't fully understand the comment but chose to ignore it.
"What matters is that from now on, you will fight by my side. Not as a prisoner, but as my most valuable possession."
Leonardo let out a resigned sigh, but deep down, a small smile formed on his lips.
"I guess I don't have a choice..."
Joan smiled with satisfaction.
"Exactly. And you'd better not fail me, Marchand."
Leonardo nodded slowly, feeling that, for the first time, his destiny was no longer uncertain.
---