In the world of Type-Moon, it all begins with becoming Morgan's husband!

[Deeply saddened, she began to tend to your wounds.]

Take out the herbs.

Apply it.

Then spread it evenly.

Joan of Arc carefully tended to Ian's lacerated wounds.

Although she was already quite careful about her strength.

But the boy's teeth were chattering from the pain.

“I’m sorry…” Joan of Arc apologized with immense remorse, “If only I hadn’t said I was going out.”

"..."

Ian forced a wry smile.

"That--"

Do you still want to go out and have fun in the future?

"I'm not going to do it anymore! Never again!"

Joan of Arc shook her head repeatedly.

"If my brother gets a beating every time he goes out, it's not worth it!"

“Oh, I see…” Ian gently patted his stepsister’s head. “That’s wonderful.”

"Looks like this beating wasn't for nothing."

"If you take more bites in the future, Jeanne won't turn into a country bumpkin, right?"

"Don't say such things!" Joan of Arc's grip tightened involuntarily.

"It hurts!"

"You're talking nonsense!"

Joan of Arc was sharp-tongued, but she quickly loosened her grip on his hand.

"That's right, brother."

"About the fire-breathing thing..."

"Let's talk about it later. Father is so angry right now, he probably won't listen to anything we say."

"……Too."

As Joan of Arc spoke, a hint of lingering affection appeared in her eyes as she looked at Ian.

Joan of Arc's words were not just empty talk.

She definitely hasn't been pestering you to take her fishing like before.

However, she really wasn't cut out for reading; she would often doze off at her desk while reading.

But she seems to know that this will make you angry.

So, as a substitute for someone who didn't read books, she began to follow the adults and embrace the religion popular in the village.

The popularity of sectarianism is not a coincidence.

With large swathes of northern land under the de facto control of England, people in dire straits naturally turn to something ethereal and intangible.

Believe in something that doesn't actually exist, and then give yourself hope to keep living.

This is a lie that everyone knows about, but no one is willing to expose it.

The nation's decline and decay have affected every single person.

"Lord, if you hear my desire, please respond."

The little girl Joan of Arc knelt on the ground, clasped her hands together, and spoke these words quite earnestly, as if in prayer.

She opened her eyes, took Ian's hand with an expectant look, and asked him a question.

"How was it? How was it?!"

"Do I look like one of those people in a church who immediately start working?"

Looking at his stepsister's expression, Ian thought for a moment, then asked in return:

"Jeanne, would you like to hear something nice or something bad?"

"I want to hear them all!" Joan of Arc replied without hesitation.

"But if possible, please put in a good word for me first, brother!"

"Say nice things..."

Ian looked at his adopted sister.

"Hmm, at first glance, it does look quite convincing. I almost fell for your trick."

"Oh~"

Joan of Arc pouted slightly, clearly pleased with Ian's "praise".

"What are those bad things you said?"

"The bad thing is—"

Ian ruffled Joan's hair.

"You don't actually know what you're saying; you're just imitating what others are saying, aren't you?"

"Eh?!"

Joan of Arc turned her face away in embarrassment.

"Have you discovered all this?"

“I found it’s not a big deal,” Ian said softly. “If other people found out that you were just writing it down and then reading it aloud… that would be a big problem.”

"No~"

Joan of Arc looked up at Ian, her eyes filled with confidence.

"I will definitely figure out what those words mean!"

"because--"

"They said that this way, a very capable person will come to help us!"

"..."

Ian's expression was somewhat complicated.

He actually wanted to tell his stepsister that this was just a fantasy that embodied people's hopes.

But on second thought, it seems unnecessary.

After all, living with hope is a good choice.

"Okay, then let's work hard."

"Good~"

Ian was unaware that Joan of Arc had another reason for doing this.

That is, she heard that the "master" could accomplish many things.

Even if——

Perhaps there are some things that are not suitable for god-siblings.

With your encouragement, Joan of Arc put even more effort into this matter.

She arrived at the church early every day to listen to the words spoken by the people praying there, and tried to understand their original meaning.

Because she was still young, most people didn't take her seriously.

But this shouldn't affect her determination—because you told her to work hard in this area.

She shares with you what she learned that day.

And you will patiently reply and offer praise.

You gradually find yourself looking forward to her daily reports—it seems to have become a kind of enjoyment amidst the hardship.

So although your village is still in dire straits, your life with Joan of Arc has not become meaningless.

A month passed, and life in the village remained relatively peaceful—the deaths of the Burgundians seemed to have caused nothing.

A few days later, your father will speak with you.

“Cough…cough.”

The father, sitting in the chair, coughed several times—he was not young, and naturally had various health problems.

Pierre.

Do you know why I asked you to come here today?

“…I don’t know,” Ian answered truthfully.

"But I think it might be related to Jeanne?"

"Yes, cough... cough." The father took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

"You should know that she's been spending a lot of time at the church lately, right?"

"Ok, I know."

"That--"

The father's gaze fell on the boy in front of him, and he looked somewhat heavy-hearted.

"What do you think of this?"

“I think it’s great.” Ian looked directly at his father. “It’s much better than staying at home doing nothing all the time.”

“I would be very happy to see her do that.”

"Really……"