The war was never over, not really. Sure, they won skirmishes, and broke sieges, and occasionally even won a battle, but the war did not stop. Joan walked between tables, encouraging people, pointing out spelling mistakes, asking if they really needed to swear? and making sure everything would be perfect for the march.
She had paused to put her hands on her hips to survey the room when the girl spoke to her, and she glanced sideways. "For the march tomorrow," she said in her brisk French accent, her mind on the day ahead.