The Madness of Battle: My Lord's Will

As I don my armor, I can feel the weight of my Lord’s will upon me. The saints whisper in my ear, urging me forward, guiding me towards the English invaders. My heart beats with a mix of fear and exhilaration, for I know that I am but a vessel for His divine plan. I have seen the horrors of war, the mangled bodies and the cries of the wounded, but I do not falter. For I am not in control, my Lord is. His will is my purpose, and I shall see it through to the end.

The people of Orléans, they whisper among themselves, ‘She is mad, a fool who follows a voice in her head.’ But they do not understand. They do not see the truth, that I am but a messenger, a instrument of the divine. My Lord’s power courses through me, guiding my every move, my every decision. I am but a pawn in His grand game, and I would not have it any other way. For in His will, I find my peace, my purpose.

As I ride into battle, my sword at the ready, I am met with the gaze of my Lord. I see in His eyes a fire, a burning passion that drives me forward. I am but a leaf, blown by the winds of His will, and I would not have it any other way. For in the madness of battle, I find my true self, my true purpose. I am but a servant of the divine, and I shall see this war through to its bitter end, no matter the cost.