Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 10

“I hear you’ve instructed her on the mindset for her first battle.”

After parting my lips from the tea cup, I spoke to Anastasia. We sat at a garden table in the forefront of the palace. Sitting across from me, my daughter Anastasia looked at me with her usual serpent-like gaze while sipping her tea as well.

“From where did you hear such a thing? Mother.”

“From Valiere herself. She spoke to me before her first battle, revealing such things.”

I took a sip of my tea, held it in my mouth for a moment, and then swallowed. Then, I began to speak again.

“Our conversation seems to have leaked to the attendants, becoming a subject among the nobility. They’re astonished that Anastasia, the First Princess, would show affection towards her sister.”

“How rude. I do have affection.”

Anastasia retorted, her expression as stern as ever.

“However, I don’t understand why I did it. I dislike her.”

“Oh?”

It was unusual for Anastasia to express her feelings, both likes and dislikes, so openly. Perhaps she was becoming emotional.

“As a child, she was always scared of me, hiding behind our father. Even after our father passed away, she would always look at me with fear and hesitation. To put it plainly, I detest her.”

My daughter Valiere grew to be a mere mortal, as though all talent was usurped by Anastasia from the start.

When Valiere was ten years old, I, as the queen, had given up on her, considering her unsuitable even as a spare. In case something happened to Anastasia—meaning if she died—I had even thought of passing the Anhalt kingdom to Duchess Astarte, the third in line for the throne.

Now that Anastasia has grown up splendidly by the age of sixteen, those worries are becoming unnecessary.

“Speaking of which, she used to sneak into our bed when she was little. Those are fond memories. She would sleep clinging to her father.”

Because of that, the nights I spent with my late husband decreased a bit after she was born.

—I’m slightly resentful.

Of course, if he hadn’t been poisoned, I wouldn’t have harbored any resentment. The culprit is still at large. I can’t seem to let it go, but investigating requires manpower and expenses. It might be time to give up. I sighed heavily and then spoke again.

“You truly dislike Valiere, don’t you?”

Anastasia responded to my words.

“…I wouldn’t say I want her dead. She is still our father’s daughter, after all.”

It seems Anastasia harbors complex emotions.

Is it due to a sense of duty towards my late husband, who adored Valiere, or is it genuine familial affection for her sister?

I do not know.

And I do not deem my lack of understanding to be shameful.

Before being a mother, I stand as Queen Liesenlotte of the Anhalt Electorate.

As a ruler, what is necessary is not sentiment.

Rather, understanding of sentiment can sometimes even be a hindrance.

Valiere, despite her average abilities, possessed an excess of sentiment.

I do not regret considering her as a spare and giving up on her.

A mistake in my judgment is a betrayal to my subjects.

I must be infinitely strong and wiser than anyone else.

Well, that is fine.

Let’s change the subject.

It’s about the future of this country.

“…Minstrel. It was good to have the Minstrel Guild proclaim that Anastasia is for strategy and Astarte for tactics. This naturally determined the hierarchy.”

“Was that your doing, mother?”

I paid the Minstrel Guild to sing such praises.

That the future of the national core is Princess Anastasia, and Duchess Astarte will brilliantly serve as her hands and feet.

That this arrangement is the correct form, given each of their abilities.

Thus, I guided public opinion within the country.

In the Kingdom of Anhalt, there once existed what might be termed a Ducal faction, rather than one for the Second Princess.

There were voices from the ducal lands and local lords who relied on the duchess’s powerful standing army, saying that Duchess Astarte should be Queen over Princess Anastasia.

Before the Virendorf campaign, such a faction certainly existed.

Now, it is gone.

After the Virendorf campaign, it was completely absorbed into the First Princess faction.

Mostly, this was because Duchess Astarte herself had no particular desire for the throne.

But surely—if Valiere had ascended to the throne.

“Hey, Anastasia. If Valiere were to take your place on the throne, do you think Astarte would follow?”

“I do not think so. Probably, for the sake of the country and the ducal lands, she would grumble about it not being to her taste and reluctantly usurp the throne. I think Valiere wouldn’t even stand a chance.”

Right.

I was reassured by Anastasia’s agreement, convinced once again that my judgment was not wrong.

Frankly, Duchess Astarte even regards Valiere with disdain.

She dislikes mediocrity.

Conversely, towards someone like Faust von Polydoro, who has talents that shine like stars, she bears no jealousy, only uncomprehended fondness.

In fact, Duchess Astarte has harbored a fondness for Anastasia, who should have been her rival for the throne, from the start.

Her offer to become the First Princess’s advisor was her own suggestion.

She is a free spirit.

That’s how everyone describes Duchess Astarte.

A little removed from titles and obligations, she lives freely as she pleases.

I’m a bit envious.

Sometimes, I wish to be free too.

—Faust von Polydoro.

At times, I even fancy him as the reincarnation of my late husband.

Indeed, when Valiere brought Faust to the palace as her advisor, I almost believed it for a moment.

Though age-wise, it’s impossible.

I want him.

Just to have that man.

“…”

I finish my cold tea to the last drop.

It calms my heated mind.

He’s out of reach.

My daughter, Anastasia, clings to that man.

Whether she sees the shadow of her late father in him, or loves him purely, I do not know.

“Anastasia”

I call her name.

“Yes.”

Responding, Anastasia meets my gaze with her serpentine eyes.

“When Valiere returns from her first battle—let’s decide when to pass the throne to you. It will likely coincide with taking a husband. Do you want Faust von Polydoro? He cannot be recognized as your official husband.”

“Yes. I have given up on making him my official husband. And it seems I will have to share him with Astarte.”

Anastasia responds as if it were the most natural thing.

※

“With not even a single person to see me off,” I murmured to myself, with a tone of regret. For the first campaign of my sister, Anastasia, the First Princess, the capital’s residents nearly overflowed, all to bid farewell to the First Princess and her accompanying royal guard. Yet, here I was, departing for my own first campaign without anyone to bid me farewell, as if I were sneaking out, hidden from all eyes.

Of course, it’s different. This isn’t a grand war against the barbaric Virendorf; it’s merely a bandit suppression. No reason for the townsfolk to see me off.

And my own guard, all fifteen of them, consisted of those forsaken by their families. No farewells from family for them either. So, it’s only natural that there were no farewells for me.

“Did you speak with Queen Liesenlotte before setting out? I’ve heard the First Princess Anastasia shared some advice with you on preparing for your initial campaign,” Faust murmured, in an attempt to offer solace.

It was just an ordinary conversation, the kind we have daily. No words of encouragement for my campaign. As for my sister—honestly, it’s hard to say. Her way of communicating is too concise, and our last conversation felt like she cut it short, perhaps tired of the exchange. But I don’t want to disappoint Faust.

“Yes, that’s right,” I forced a smile on my face, hiding my true feelings.

But still…

“How can you be slower than Lord Polydoro’s peasants, Sabine?”

“The armor is heavy! Especially the chain mail!”

“The knights of Lord Polydoro wear chain mail too, you know!”

I dismissed Sabine, my guard captain’s excuse, in a heartbeat. They’re slow, truly slow. We’re on an unscheduled break, and Sabine and the rest of the guards are slumped on the ground. Have they lost all their usual vigor?

“Marching is all about getting used to it. Understandably, Sabine-sama and the others are tired of their first campaign. You’ll get used to it during the march,” Helga, the captain of Lord Polydoro’s knights, offered some words of comfort.

It’s embarrassing, truly. My face feels like it’s burning with shame.

“Well, it is your first campaign,” Faust’s attempt at consolation felt hollow. His words held little comfort, coming from someone who had slain twenty women in his first battle.

Yet, even mounted on a horse, I felt a hint of fatigue. This was my first time leaving the capital, and the experience brought unexpected tension. Every towering tree along the way seemed like a potential hiding spot for bandits or bears.

I’ve always been fearful by nature, unable to face even my formidable sister since childhood, always hiding behind our father, clutching at his coattails.

I loved my father.

Looking at Faust, I felt a sense of calm. His presence reminded me of my father, bringing a sense of peace.

“…? Valiere-sama?”

Ignoring Faust’s puzzled voice, I continued to gaze at him, finding solace in his features, reminiscent of my lost childhood—lost alongside my father’s poisoning.

Why did my father pass away? Who was responsible for his death? He was loved by all, even if some mocked his appearance, they held affection for him deep down. It’s a mystery that not even the extensive searches ordered by my mother, Queen Liesenlotte, driven to near madness, could solve.

It’s deeply regrettable. If I knew who my father’s enemy was, perhaps even I could have become a demon to avenge him. It’s a thought that crosses my mind, imagining breaking through this cowardice that has clung to me since childhood.

“Valiere-sama, is something the matter?”

Faust’s words snapped me back to reality. There’s no use dwelling on my father’s death anymore. It’s something I’ve come to accept, and soon, my mother will likely end the search for his killer.

“It’s nothing, Faust, nothing at all.”

The world doesn’t always go as one wishes, a fact I’ve known since birth, especially as someone mocked by the nobility for being devoid of any talent compared to my sister, Anastasia. However, before my end, I wish to rid myself of this persistent cowardice.

If this campaign goes well, perhaps I can finally rid myself of it. With these thoughts, Valiere allowed herself a moment of rest, quietly closing her eyes.