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

Those driven to the brink often possess the greatest strength.

With just a tiny spark, they can ignite the most magnificent flames.

The appearance of Joan of Arc provided just such an opportunity.

"Everyone!"

Joan of Arc, at the very front of the column, planted the white flag on the ground and then looked behind her at the troops fully authorized by Charles VII.

She shouted:

"The English have taken our homes, and my innocent compatriots have become refugees."

"but--"

"They cannot destroy our will!"

"Because of the Holy Lord, and in harmony with the thoughts of each of us! Let us unite in despair!"

"For the future of France, for the freedom we yearn for."

"We must fight to the very last moment!"

Joan of Arc stirred the emotions of the soldiers present with just a few simple words—she seemed to be born with the ability to do so.

"oh oh--!!"

"Get the English out!!!"

Thunderous battle roars echoed across the sky, seemingly capable of shattering even the clouds.

Joan of Arc was not just a figurehead.

She added a sharp point to her white holy flag—so that it could actually be used as a gun.

Although she was petite and didn't appear particularly intimidating, [she was] not.

But she always leads the charge.

This fearlessness on the battlefield is etched in the hearts of every French soldier.

Since the general is not afraid of death, the soldiers should follow suit.

You have begun to grow brave.

[Your morale was high as you set out from Chinon, and you fought your way up the Loire River.]

[And it's as if in response to that courage.]

Joan of Arc, who led the charge, remained completely unharmed in these more than ten battles.

This is considered a gift from the Lord and a blessing from angels.

Everyone agreed that Joan of Arc was indeed a general sent by God to protect France.

Only you know what really happened.

That conspicuous holy banner didn't just make Fafnir notice Joan of Arc—it worked on you too.

The other soldiers joined the battle to kill the enemy.

Your purpose in joining the war is to protect Joan of Arc.

[You secretly used magic to repeatedly deflect attacks aimed at her.]

The so-called protection is not a gift from heaven, but merely the result of human effort.

After breaking through for half a month, you arrived at a city near the upper reaches of the Loire River.

The French sword will rest here for a while before launching a surprise attack on Orleans.

"Greetings, Commander-in-Chief."

"Well, hello."

"The Commander-in-Chief is truly remarkable."

"Excessive praise."

Responding to the soldiers' respect for her, Joan of Arc, carrying the holy banner, hurried toward a small wooden house in the city.

pat.

The wooden door opened and then closed again.

Joan of Arc, who was so valiant on the battlefield, was now panting heavily inside the cabin.

She looked at her brother, who had arrived at the cabin early, and her eyes became lewd.

She lifted her skirt, revealing her fair and delicate garden, and uttered a murmur that was completely different from her usual self.

"Brother...I really want it~"

No matter how brave or fearless they are on the battlefield.

In your presence, Joan of Arc will always be that younger sister, unsatisfied after being awakened.

As her brother and lover, you naturally wouldn't refuse such a perfectly reasonable request.

Because you know she's under a lot of pressure right now.

Inside the room, the white holy flag that led the French army leaned against the wall.

Its owner—Joan of Arc, who was personally appointed by Charles VII as the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Family (the highest military rank, even capable of commanding marshals)—was lying naked on the bed.

Blindfolded, she bent over like a docile puppy, exposing her two private parts to her brother behind her.

Her hands were bound behind her back with her clothes, like those of a defeated prisoner.

“Miss Jeanne.” Ian grasped the two sides of Joan of Arc’s firm and lovely buttocks.

"This time...where do you want Mr. Pierre to go?"

"..."

“…I want them all,” Joan of Arc muttered softly, her eyes still blindfolded.

"what?"

"I want them all!" Joan of Arc said somewhat anxiously, her proud breasts being squeezed and deformed on the bed.

"I want my brother's penis in both places!"

"..."

Hearing this, Ian felt a pang of sympathy for his sister—he knew she only wanted this when she was under a lot of pressure.

"Alright, then I won't stand on ceremony."

He patted his sister's buttocks with his left hand, and then began to go in and out of her front garden.

It must be said that Joan of Arc was indeed burning with desire—as soon as she entered, she took the initiative to move, constantly squeezing the thick, strong penis.

Ian wasn't idle either.

He gently played with his sister's other garden with the index finger of his right hand, letting it expand little by little.

"Ugh...uh...ah..."

The girl's humiliating voice echoed in the room where the two were alone, and her body trembled in waves.

Hiss——

The front garden was filled to the brim, overflowing with white love that dripped onto the floor of the room.

Meanwhile, the garden on the other side also opened for business.

However, Ian did have a little idea at this moment.

"Jeanne...how about we try something different this time?"

"Something else?"

"Hmm, it should be quite interesting."

"Okay... sure."

Joan of Arc always trusted her brother, even when she was blindfolded.

However, she soon sensed that something seemed slightly off about what had come in.

It's a little cool and a little smooth.

This feeling... it's so familiar.

Wait!

"Brother...could it be that holy flag?!"

"Hey, have you been discovered?"

"No, you have to get it out of here right now!"

Joan of Arc's body began to struggle, causing the sacred banner, which was only partially inserted, to sway from side to side.

Having become "Qiji", she truly felt immense shame at this moment.

A few minutes later.

Joan of Arc crossed her arms and looked quite angry.

Ian, meanwhile, stood by and smiled, trying to comfort her.

"Jeanne, I'm sorry, it was my fault, please don't be angry with me."

"Hmph!" Joan of Arc pouted. "My brother has gone too far!"

"How could you put that kind of thing in there?!"

"because--"

Ian looked at the white holy flag lying on the bed beside him—its handle was slightly damp.

“I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, Jeanne… so I just wanted to try these new methods to see if they could help you relax a little.”

"But the result seems to be even worse."

"Eh?!"