The Knights of Pegasus ~ English version

Chapter 3 : A strange connection

Reluctantly, Nathalie entered the door of the church in Domrémy-la-Pucelle. She did not believe in God, or at least, not in that one. And although she always found churches magnificent, she did not like going inside. The redhead made a quick sign of the cross upon entering, out of respect, and followed Medusa. Whom could she be looking for here? The gorgon looked around the building from a distance, but did not seem to find the person she was looking for. She approached Madame David.

"Excuse me, Madame David?

"Oh! Mira!" exclaimed the woman. "Have you found my boy?"

"No, I'm sorry... I'm looking for Ap... Phil... uh... Father Philippe."

"Oh... he was lighting the candles just a minute ago. He might be in the confessional?"

"I don't want to disturb him..."

Medusa glanced at the small wooden enclosure, the curtain was open. She decided to approach and sit down. A clearly annoyed voice immediately called out to her from the other side of the thin partition.

"One Our Father and two Hail Marys, goodbye."

"You're not very convincing."

"...Mira?"

The door next to her opened as the Greek woman also emerged. The man in a cassock was surprisingly beautiful for a priest. He looked young with long hair shining like the sun, tied in a thick ponytail. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted glasses. A small gold chain hung from his left ear, with a cross of the same metal attached to it. He also wore one around his neck, but the pendant, attached to a black cord, hung to the side, towards his right shoulder. He hid a book behind his back.

"So, the priest is hiding to read," muttered Medusa.

"I am as much a priest as you are," whispered the young man. "And you know it perfectly well. If this place wasn't so beautiful, I would have given up this cover a long time ago."

"Cover?" Nathalie interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"...Mira... who is this?"

Mira sighed and grabbed the man of faith's glasses, which he quickly took back. However, Nathalie had time to catch a glimpse of his eyes. The iris seemed to be made of a complete galaxy, with a planet as the pupil.

"Nathalie, let me introduce you to Apollo," declared the gorgon.

"The god of the arts?"

At these words, the clergyman let out a sudden cry of joy, attracting everyone's attention. He coughed and offered a smile to his faithful, who turned their heads, most of them blushing.

"Sorry," murmured Apollo. "People tend to call me the 'god of beauty'. It's true that I have a certain power over male beauty, but I am first and foremost the god of the arts."

"I see... but why are you here? And especially, in a church!"

"What, don't you find this place magnificent? In terms of art, I am served!"

Nathalie couldn't deny that there were always magnificent works of art in every church. But to pass himself off as a man of faith... She finally explained her presence to Apollo, as well as her hope of bringing Joan of Arc back to life.

"No!" exclaimed the blond. "Could you really bring Jeannette back to life? That would be amazing!"

"You knew her?"

"And how! The body I have now was that of a young church boy at the time."

"Wait... what?"

"It's a long story, you see."

Apollo gave Nathalie a charming smile, although she seemed strangely indifferent. She sighed and headed towards the exit.

"I don't really have time to waste. Come or don't come, but we have to leave right away."

"Very well, very well!" exclaimed Apollo. "I'm coming, wait for me. I'll let the nuns know!"

He ran off in the opposite direction, while Medusa followed the young woman to her car. It was a black Rolls Royce Phantom VIII with tinted windows, and the little figurehead on the front was a Pegasus. Just behind it, a van with the same features was parked, and the man named Henry got in the front. They got into the Rolls, whose interior was particularly luxurious, to wait for the fake priest's return. It didn't take long for him to arrive, although he was chased by a few nuns begging him to stay. He hurriedly got in, closing the door in their faces.

"If we could start quickly?" pleaded Apollo. "Before they decide to puncture the tires."

Nathalie signaled to her driver, who immediately started the car. The god of arts seemed particularly well-liked in the village, but there was no questioning why. His beauty was unique, he was certainly capable of charming anyone just by batting his eyelashes.

"And so," the director whispered. "It's really strange to think that Medusa, the famous gorgon, and the god of arts, Apollo himself, knew Joan of Arc well... and it's even stranger to admit that she didn't die but was actually turned to stone. Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"It's really a long story," replied Mira. "After my curse, I took refuge in France with the help of Perseus."

"Wasn't he supposed to kill you?"

"Yes. Athena asked him to, through King Polydectes. She then provided him with his shield and sword and asked Hermes to give him winged sandals. But Perseus was far from being a mere puppet. He saw that I didn't want to attack him, that I avoided looking at him, so he blindfolded himself and we talked. I told him everything. He then faked my death and took me with him, promising to help me escape, which he did. I first settled as far away from Greece as possible. I moved several times until I arrived here."

"It was difficult," added Apollo. "With Mira who had just started speaking French properly and the Vosges accent of that time, they still became friends."

"That's for sure, it took me a while to understand that ' beyth' meant 'blithe'."

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. She had heard historians talk about an accent that the famous Joan of Arc had, but she hadn't imagined it to be so strong.

"Do you have an example?" asked the director. "Could you imitate it?"

"Not me," said Mira. "But Phil can."

The god of arts straightened up, clearing his throat, and then launched into a perfect imitation of the warrior.

"Mah name is Cheennette Daelly. Thee'm a maid, but thee faheet lak ayy lord. Thuh ownlee way ta be taken seryoslee is ta preytend that god asked thee to doth it.²"

Nathalie was stunned by this incomprehensible imitation. She had barely understood anything and would never have imagined that the famous maid had such a strong accent. The god and the cursed woman simply laughed together at this imitation. It was a nostalgic, amused laughter, but not mocking at all. Finally, the gorgon straightened up, ready to begin her narration.

²- "My name is Jeannette Dailly. I'm a little girl, but I fight like a man. The only way to be taken seriously is to pretend that God asked me to do it."

In order to facilitate reading, any dialogue spoken by Joan will be written in correct English, I will let you imagine that she speaks with this kind of very thick accent.