"Joan of Arc Dacker, the verdict is now read to you by the Supreme Court.

Joan of Arc, a major war criminal, joined the Third Army of the West Francois Army in early 1915 and successively served as assistant to the commander, staff officer, and general staff officer.

He participated in and commanded many campaigns against Prussia Germany, and in the Berlin Blitzkrieg, Joan of Arc commanded an army in the Wolfsburg area to kill more than 300 prisoners and non-combatants, most of whom were old and young

And on the battlefield of Verdun, the army commanded by Joan of Arc slaughtered hundreds of thousands of our Germans.

In the second half of 1916, Joan of Arc committed a horrific war crime, bombing Dresden with weapons and leveling an entire city.

Hundreds of thousands of innocent people died in the bombardment.

According to the above argument, the first paragraph of Article 291 of the Criminal Procedure Law should be followed; Article 4, Paragraph 2, Article 23, Paragraph 3, Article 46, Paragraph 1 of the Hague Road Regulations;

Articles 2 and 3 of the Convention on the Treatment of Prisoners of War in Time of War;

Articles 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 11, 11 of the Regulations on the Trial of War Criminals; Article 28, the first paragraph of Article 56, and Article 57 of the Criminal Law.

Because of the heinous culpability of the offender, the court has resorted to the abolished sentence.

Sentenced to war criminal, Joan of Arc Darkell, burned at the stake. ”

The Supreme Court in Berlin was the highest legal body in Prussia, and only the most heinous criminals and complex cases that could not be tried by the lower courts were dealt with here.

The whole courtroom was large and empty, and the judge wearing the wig even had an echo when he recited, which looked very majestic.

Joan of Arc stood in the middle of the hearing seat, quietly listening to the verdict of the judge above.

Her hands and feet were chained, and she was still wearing the same West Flair uniform, her long blond hair casually draped behind her head.

Her height is not very tall, about 1.68 meters, and because of many days of malnutrition, her figure looks very thin.

Her face was pale, but her eyes were still the same, and she was even straight, and she did not bow her head because of the verdict pronounced by the judge above.

The verdict was long, thousands of words long, and most of it was something she had never done. In order to make her guilt real, they can be said to have gone to great lengths.

Behind her stood many soldiers, many high-ranking people from Berlin, and behind the wide open door stood many civilians, who were also listening.

Hearing this punishment, the upper echelons and soldiers behind him were very excited and applauded in the back.

Civilians were also talking in the rear.

Soon, the presiding judge finished reading the verdict and looked at Joan of Arc.

"Joan of Arc Dacker, may you plead guilty?"

"Plead not guilty." Joan of Arc said with her head raised slightly.

"I have a clear conscience about what I have done in this war.

All the soldiers of West France who died in this war died defending their homeland.

I will not tarnish their bravery and justice.

Slander and smear will not wash away the sins you have committed in this war.

History will give justice. ”

"Not pleading guilty?" The judge's eyes narrowed, and he suppressed his anger, "The land of Dresden has not grown even a single green yet. ”

"So, what did you cast the Katyusha for?" Joan of Arc asked rhetorically.

The judge stared at Joan of Arc quietly, "So, does the defendant have the rest of the evidence?" ”

"Evidence?" There was a hint of contempt in Joan of Arc's eyes, "The whole world knows that you are waging a war of aggression, not a patriotic war.

It's okay to deceive others, don't let the lies deceive you too, that's sad. ”

Being so ridiculed by Joan of Arc, the justice's face was full of anger.

"It's useless for you not to plead guilty, the evidence is conclusive, and the verdict has been handed down.

Someone came, escorted her to the Old Market Square, and punished this wicked witch in front of the citizens of Berlin! ”

The soldiers on one side walked over and pulled Joan of Arc out of the courtroom.

Originally, according to the normal process, the execution should have been carried out in a few days after the trial.

Apparently, however, Malfoy was overwhelmed by the chaos in the country since the armistice was signed, and he was desperate to push Joan of Arc out so that the people could have an outlet.

So at noon on the day of the trial, Joan of Arc was pushed to the place of execution.

Not even the place of execution, but in the public square, they built a rack for burning at the stake.

Burning at the stake was abolished many years ago because it was so cruel that the deceased would suffer immensely before they died.

The death penalty in this era was hanged at best, but apparently, perhaps another Joan of Arc died at the stake, and Malfoy, fearful of Joan of Arc's miraculousness, wanted to kill her in the same way.

Perhaps it was because Malfoy simply hated Joan of Arc and wanted to execute her in an even more brutal way.

Joan of Arc walked in shackles to the old market square in Rouen, where the execution would take place.

The streets she passed were flanked by people, and since she had left the small village, she had been surrounded by adoring crowds, and all she could hear was cheers and appreciation.

Now there was a taunting rabble around the roadside, clamoring for her to be put to death.

It seemed like in an instant, she was the enemy of the whole world.

Her steps were steady, not utter a word, her head held high, as if everyone around her was a noisy fly, unable to affect her at all.

She was silently led up the steps and tied to the stake.

There was a lot of people in the square, and Malfoy may have informed the whole city about the execution in advance.

A lot of firewood was placed around her, and even gasoline was drenched, but it was far from the stake, so that she could die less quickly.

She slowly turned her head and looked at the other end of the square, where was the balcony of a high-end restaurant.

Malfoy sat on it, cross-legged, looking at her with interest, tea on the coffee table beside him, and even a waiter shading him.

Joan of Arc didn't speak, just turned her head.

What is truly frightening is the eve of judgment, and the wait is always the most tormenting.

But when it really came to this moment, Joan of Arc's heart was very calm.

After ordering the bombing of Dresden, many nightmares appeared in her dreams, the despair and fear of the people of that city in the face of that last moment.

Although, as she said, she did not regret dropping the nuclear bomb, as a devout believer, she was still shrouded in guilt for the death of such a large number of lives at her hands.

And now, this fire seems to be able to wash away the pain in her heart.

Before coming to Berlin, she was not ready to return alive.

Joan of Arc prayed incessantly, looked at the soldiers in front of her, and pleaded, "Can you place a cross in front of me?" ”

The soldiers who had been executed were the same soldiers who had followed Malfoy into Montjuïc the other night, and after glancing at each other, they found two sticks to put together, and handed them to her.

But then a priest pushed through the crowd and walked out, placing a golden cross in front of Joan of Arc, and then taking the wooden cross.

This golden cross was the cross in his church.

She knew the priest, and in the Château de Montjuïc, all the prisoners were given Mass in his church, and his name was Martin Levennew.

The priest gave Joan of Arc a sad look, and then slowly retreated, silent.

The soldier on one side picked up a torch with a burning flame and moved it to the firewood filled with oil.

Soon, the fire burned rapidly, and because of the blessing of oil, the flames directly jumped several meters high.

The heat surged all around, causing the crowd to subconsciously take a step back, and in their view, Joan of Arc had been completely consumed by the flames.

In the flickering firelight, the figure of the girl can be faintly seen, of course, because the firewood is some distance away from the girl, so the flames will not swallow her directly.

The scorching heat would bake her until her body spontaneously combusted when it reached its melting point.

The crowd in the front row could even hear the girl's loud prayer in the flames.

Humans are very complex creatures, and not everyone in this world has the same thoughts.

Just now, when Joan of Arc came out, the people he met were ignorant people who were easily guided by the public opinion of the upper classes, and there were also people whose husbands died in the war with West Farran, so they hated West Farland.

Some of the people around are veterans who have come down from the battlefield, who used to feel that they were fighting for their country under the government's rendering, but they were left out in the cold after returning from the army.

Germany was already overloaded with the resettlement of disabled soldiers, so they felt cheated and hated the government as well as West Farland.

Others, on the other hand, were just joining in the fun, listening to Joan of Arc's prayers and watching the raging fire gradually consume her body, their faces unbearable.

In the alleys on the edge of the market square, a group of dirty, oily men slowly walked out.

They were wearing cargo pants with pliers pinned to their waists, as if they had just come out of the factory.

There were a lot of people gathered in the square, so the soldiers around them did not notice them.

If you look closely, you can see that they are armed with some weapons, but they are hidden under their clothing.

In the midst of the crowd, a figure came out, wearing an overcoat, with short haircuts, a thin face, sunken cheeks, and a very bad complexion, like a terminally ill patient.

If you look closely, you will see that he is Joan of Arc's former cellmate in Montjuic, Fermin.

He was looking at the flames in the middle of the square in a distracted manner at the moment, and a short and fat middle-aged man wearing cargo pants on one side also walked out, and said with a solemn face.

"We're late, sir, I didn't expect Malfoy to be in such a hurry, as soon as the verdict was issued, the people were dragged directly to the center of the square for execution."

Fermin shuddered and closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

The fat man asked tentatively, "What about us?"

After a moment, Fermin squeezed a voice out of his throat.

"It's not the best time yet."

He slowly opened his eyes, his eyes were red, and his voice trembled slightly.

"When the best time comes, we will settle her account with all the comrades who died at the hands of these damned imperialists."

However, as time passed, the eyes of those who watched the burning at the stake in this square showed a slightly puzzled look.

For the prayer in their ears has not ceased.

Seeing this scene, everyone was talking to each other, a little strange about this magical scene.

Several soldiers who presided over this punishment looked at each other at a loss.

Malfoy frowned as well, he couldn't sit still, and went straight to the edge of the balcony and yelled at the soldiers in the center of the square.

"Still stunned what to do, add firewood! Pour the oil, make the fire bigger, I don't believe it can't burn her!! ”

His voice echoed in the square, and the soldiers reacted, and hurriedly added firewood to the fire in front of them, and when they set up this burner, they had already prepared a lot of firewood in case of emergency.

But the firewood piled up around Joan of Arc was enough to burn three or four people, and they didn't expect this to happen.

As their firewood was added, the flames rose even higher.

A breeze blew, and a lot of fly ash flew in the sky, like swaying black petals, and the surging heat wave surged around, making those soldiers and the crowd unconsciously take a few steps back.

In the middle, Joan of Arc was also parched by the blazing flames, and her mouth was dry, and she was sweating profusely, but the clothes on her body were guarding her from harm.

However, there is a limit to what can be protected.

If you continue to roast like this, then you will not be burned to death, but roasted alive.

The billowing smoke eroded into her lungs, causing her to cough unlistened, the raging heat rushing into her airways, the burning pain of her trachea, and the feeling that her whole body was burning.

I don't know if it's because my consciousness is blurring, and I have hallucinations in front of me.

Before her eyes, a being dressed in a black robe and wearing a bone mask appeared, and the black coat fluttered with the heat wave created by the burning flames.

His body was full of ominousness, and even Joan of Arc's heart was filled with a little fear.

"That's death."

But at this moment, a familiar voice also came to her ears.

The voice was close, as if someone was leaning into her ear and whispering, familiar, warm, as if there was a hot wind flowing through her ear.

"Death?"

"yes." The man whispered, "If nothing else, your fate will end today, and your life will come to an end at this moment."

"Is that so?"

Joan of Arc felt her eyelids weigh heavily as the dark shadow in front of her drew closer to her.

"I'm ready to ......"

"Though there is fate, but your will. It's the firmest I've ever seen," the voice sighed.

He was silent for a long time, "Do you want to die?" ”

"I think. No one would want to die, right? Joan of Arc replied in a hoarse voice, "It's just that, compared to my ideals, death is the most insignificant thing. ”

"But it seems that your dream has not yet been accomplished. The real root causes of the war have not yet been completely eliminated. ”

"I've planted the fire."

"But don't you want to see it with your own eyes?"

The man muttered softly.

"Meet the ...... All people are equal, and they no longer worry about being killed by weapons of war.

People no longer have to hold weapons to kill, they can choose to either hold a paintbrush, or pick up a musical instrument, or run freely on the verdant grassland......"

Joan of Arc's spirit seems to have recovered some of that voice.

Her eyes were misty, "Maybe, it will be beautiful."

The voice was silent for a moment, then said with a smile.

"Like you. I wish."

At that moment, she was no longer bound by the stake.

A familiar figure appeared behind her, holding her in her arms.

The figure was tall, perhaps because Joan of Arc was thin, like a father holding his daughter in his arms.

The embrace was warm, and Joan of Arc felt the heat and smoke that had caused her great pain leave her.

I saw that the man slowly raised his head, looked at the black shadow not far away, and looked at "death".

"Fuck off." The voice rang in her ears again, "Her soul does not belong to you."

Compared to the softness just now, this sentence is full of majesty and unquestionable......

Under Joan of Arc's gaze, the "death" slowly disappeared in front of her as his words fell

(End of chapter)