Within a week, mutiny has spread like a plague across every position along the river.
Soldiers sit together in circles. One of them hums a quiet tune.
Soldier: ♪ In the shadows under falling rain, soldiers search for their graves ♪
They have tossed their rifles aside, ignoring every call to the battlefield.
Soldier: ♪ The rich men frolic down the boulevards, while we crawl through the trenches ♪
Three days ago, they raised their guns at a colonel spouting empty speeches—he ran off, his trousers wet with fear.
Soldier: ♪ For them, life is good, but for us, not so much ♪
Soldier: Baa—baa—
The soldiers bleat in unison.
Soldier: ♪ But it's all over now, 'cause the grunts are on strike! ♪
Marianne listens to the singing, a faint smile curling the corners of her mouth.
Soldier IV: You medal-riddled cowards! All that metal too heavy for you, is it?! Can't drag your cowering little bodies to the frontlines?!
Marianne: We must persevere. None will die for their sake any longer—they must face us now.
Soldier IV: I just want that murderer out!
Officer: Soldiers, on your feet!
A command breaks their chatter. Marianne's head snaps toward the officer.
Officer: Fix your uniforms. The commander-in-chief will be here shortly.
Marianne: ...!
Officer: Move it!
The soldiers shoot to their feet, sling their rifles over their shoulders, and stand to attention against the trench wall.
Marianne's superior night vision allows her to see the man clearly. Her eyes widen.
Marianne: Lord God, it's him ...
The general-turned-commander-in-chief, hailed as the savior of the front, steps calmly into their midst.
Everyone wears the same stunned expression as her. One by one, the soldiers salute.
And the general returns it.
Above a large moustache, his deep blue eyes scan the trench, pausing on every worn and weary face.
Commander-in-Chief: Soldiers, you are the loyal and courageous defenders of our nation.
Commander-in-Chief: It is thanks to you that we have thus far protected our country's freedom and dignity.
Commander-in-Chief: I know well the hardships you have suffered. Now that I have taken charge ...
Commander-in-Chief: You have my word that our plan of attack will change. No more mass charges. You will not die for nothing.
Marianne sees the same joy and relief in her comrades' faces as she feels in her own.
Commander-in-Chief: The trenches will be expanded and improved, allowing you more space to rest ...
Commander-in-Chief: Logistics will ensure the front line receives sufficient rations. You will go hungry no longer ...
Commander-in-Chief: And, starting today, a rotation system will be instituted. You will all get the leave you deserve.
Marianne clenches her fist.
Home. Finally.
Commander-in-Chief: But the war isn't over yet, brave soldiers—
Commander-in-Chief: Soldiers indeed! You must not forget your duty, and you must not disobey orders!
Commander-in-Chief: The enemy is only a few hundred meters away. One misstep, and we fall.
Commander-in-Chief: Thus, we will not tolerate any breach of discipline.
Commander-in-Chief: Any soldier who attempted to lead this mutiny, and anyone who still refuses to return to duty, will be severely punished.
A weak oil lamp flickers against the bars of the temporary jail.
Converted from a warehouse, the space holds many soldiers—each one part of the mutiny, each one now sentenced by a makeshift tribunal.
On a rough wooden plank bed, Marianne lies still.
Marianne: Merciful Lord, you have ever been my comfort in times of pain, and I believe wholly in your power ...
Marianne: I beg You, grant me the courage, faith, and strength to endure ...
She murmurs, staring blankly ahead.
A rat nibbles on the crumbs scattered on the floor.
The battlefield has toughened it, kept it alive.
Marianne: Let Your glory shine upon me, O Lord ...
Soldier: Ténébrun, you're up.
Her prayer is cut short. A soldier opens the cell door, a rifle in hand.
Marianne rises from the bed and trudges out in a haze.
Marianne: ... May I leave a letter to my family?
There is no answer.
A makeshift tent stands near the river trench.
Wooden planks and sandbags have been used to reinforce it, shielding its temporary but sacred function from the wreckage of war.
Special Court-Martial President: ... Second Class Soldier Marianne Ténébrun is charged with the following crimes:
Special Court-Martial President: Unauthorized use of arcane skills, incitement to disobedience of orders ...
Special Court-Martial President: and evasion of combat.
Special Court-Martial President: Your actions—your betrayal—are a disgrace to the military and to our nation.
Stripped of the right to defend or appeal, Marianne listens numbly as her charges are read.
The army has enforced its will. Those who led the mutiny have been arrested in service of restoring order.
Whether they were the true ringleaders doesn't matter. The act of judgment has served its purpose.
Special Court-Martial President: The court finds you guilty of insubordination and incitement to rebellion.
Special Court-Martial President: Your sentence is death.
The sentence declared, Marianne rises, turns, and stiffly follows the guards out.
As she leaves the tent, someone taps her shoulder.
Soldier: We still believe in you, Marianne. You're a true patriot.
The mutiny is over.
Letter: Marie, thy courage amazeth me greatly.
Letter: I shall pray to the Lord that He watcheth over thee, and that He doth bring thee home safe from the battlefield.
Letter: I eagerly await the day when we may walk again in the apple orchard and I may hear thee speak of thy designs and dreams ...
Marianne: Agnès ...
Marianne kneels on the ground. Before her, a row of soldiers stands at attention, each with a rifle in their arms. A stern officer looms beside her.
Her hands are bound behind her back, a white cloth tied over her eyes.
Marianne: ... My comrades-in-arms, has the shelling begun again?
Soldier: No. It's you who's shaking.
Soldier: With this many rifles, you won't feel a thing.
Her teeth are chattering too hard to speak.
Officer: Ready!
Marianne knows the sound of rifles being raised.
Agnès: Marie.
The voice echoes from all directions, piercing her to the core.
Officer: Aim!
She loses her sight once again, finding herself back in that narrow path strewn with dust and ash, a gargoyle both filthy and holy standing at its end.
Marianne: Agnès, will I ever see you again?
She touches her cousin's head, now cold and hard, just as she did countless times when they were children.
Officer: Fire!
Sparks flash from the rifle barrels, and bullets spin toward her chest.
Marianne: God, forgive me ...
The bullets lodge in solid stone. In the instant before impact, she petrified herself.
Officer: Zut! Keep firing!
She staggers to her feet and runs as fast as her body will allow, stone chips breaking off her body as she goes.
Officer: Her petrification can't withstand all of you! Fire!!
GAMEPLAY