Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 172

Whenever my stomach flares up with pain, I find myself praying—but to which deity am I actually addressing my pleas?

The Holy Trinity promises salvation for the soul, but it’s not my soul I’m desperate to save; rather, it’s my stomach, writhing in agony. I’m not seeking some grand divine intervention, just a reprieve from this relentless torment.

So, I’ve concocted a makeshift deity for such moments—let’s call him the God of Pain, PomPomPain.

PomPomPain, the divine overseer of stomach maladies, emerges from the ether whenever fools indulge in excess, ignore their health, or push themselves beyond their limits, dispensing abdominal agony as a form of divine punishment.

Through tearful prayers and desperate promises of “I won’t do it again! I swear!”, one might just persuade this god to ease the pain, if only a little.

Given the human condition, everyone, at some point, finds themselves praying to PomPomPain, regardless of their virtue. A silent observer, this deity watches over all beings, pitiable and pained.

These thoughts—blasphemous and absurd—made it clear that my mind had wandered far into the realms of escapism.

Silence enveloped me.

It seemed the intense pain had momentarily driven me mad, or perhaps it was the fainting spell I barely registered amidst the agony.

Struggling to regain my senses, I shook my head and managed to stand within the grandeur of my command tent, surveying my surroundings. Lady Sabine and Claudia von Reckenber were present. Though hesitant, knowing Claudia was well aware of my quirks, I decided not to hold back my complaints.

“This morning, my pee was pink,” I blurted out, hinting at blood traces— not quite a hemorrhage but certainly a sign of severe internal stress.

Lady Sabine, ever the unsettling companion, chimed in.

“I could drink your pee, Valiere.”

“Who asked for that, Sabine? Are you out of your mind?” I retorted, half in anger, half in disbelief.

Her gaze held an unnerving sincerity—there was no jest in her declaration, merely a bizarre blend of devotion and derangement, professing her willingness to drink even my bloodied urine.

The unasked-for words hung heavily in the air, unwanted and disturbing.

“Why has it come to this? Why?” I muttered twice, lost in the absurdity of the situation.

I needed to organize my thoughts. The primary goal was straightforward: escort Sabine to the imperial capital, nothing more, nothing less.

That was the plan, at least until Sabine suggested—given the looming perils at the capital—that perhaps we should bring along about a thousand more for good measure.

This led to a ragtag army of destitute merchants, dubious mercenaries, surplus noble daughters, and a motley crew of Cologne Sect priests—all trailing behind me, Valiere von Anhalt, a pitiable soul plagued by stomachaches, now dubbed the commander of this eclectic brigade.

That was the scene as we departed the royal city of Anhalt. Manageable, so I thought. Perhaps I could have juggled the responsibilities with some semblance of normalcy, relying heavily on my guard.

But then.

“Sabine! How many are we now?” I demanded an update, dread creeping in.

“Well, if we’re talking pure combatants, around 1,200,” she began, her count including new recruits, freelancers, and more, doubling our initial number. “Merchants, performers, and additional followers have swelled our ranks further…”

As she rattled off, I waved her off, unable to stomach the granular details.

“Just give me the rough total. How many are following us now?”

“Over 2,000, easily. News of our financial successes has attracted even more greed-driven souls,” Sabine reported nonchalantly.

Dizziness struck me. What began as a manageable thousand had ballooned beyond control. The mere thought of leading such a force was overwhelming; the current peace within the ranks felt nearly miraculous.

“No problems have arisen yet, so we press on,” Sabine concluded with a shrug, as if the matter were trivial.

In that moment, I envied her ability to dismiss concerns so freely. If only I could detach as she does, my stomach might spare me the chronic pain.

“Sabine, did you foresee this situation escalating so far?”

“To speak frankly, it has far exceeded my expectations,” she admitted, leaving me to wonder just how we’d navigate the growing storm surrounding our unlikely pilgrimage.

Well, that figures.

Sabine had initially planned to charge straight to the capital with just the first thousand people, taking the shortest route possible, which is why she enlisted Claudia von Reckenber—our “danger card.”

Claudia, a legendary highwaywoman turned guide, knew the imperial roads like the back of her hand and was essential for streamlining our pillaging (legalized plundering) to fund our journey.

With her at my side, the task before me, Valiere, should have been straightforward: to shrewdly extract gold from the lords we encountered.

But then.

But still.

Claudia herself had this to say:

“Let me be clear, Princess Valiere, this is all your fault.”

Those were the last words I wanted to hear, spoken plainly and sharply.

“If you had followed my advice, even with the unexpected increase in numbers, we could have kept it to a minimum. I could have really sped up our pillaging ride to the capital.”

And yet.

Claudia turned around, her finger pointed accusingly at me, spinning it as if to emphasize my folly.

“With the arrogance of a dragonfly whirling its eyes, you spoke as if looking down on an insect.”

“Your Highness showed unnecessary mercy. You pitied the lords we were about to rob—those who had already resigned themselves to their fate, like frogs frozen before a snake.”

Yes, I had shown mercy.

Indeed, I desired gold, not for my own enrichment, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of my troops starving on their way to the capital. I wanted to provide for those who would become knights of Anhalt, and those soldiers who would gain citizenship—they deserved at least decent gear as a reward for their efforts.

I saw a horse dealer who, having spent his entire fortune on trade goods, was carefully rationing a piece of bread among his two donkeys.

It was about the money.

With money, I could make them all happy.

But to get that money, I had to take it from others.

And those who had it were the feudal lords controlling the roads to the capital.

And yet, and still.

“These ladies need the money too. They’re not hoarding wealth for luxuries, but saving for times of famine, military duty, or festivals, to aid their unfortunate subjects who struggle despite their efforts. I know how hard my fiancé Faust works as a lord, caring for his people.”

Taking gold from these lords was a great sin, and I knew it.

My conscience simply couldn’t bear the simplicity of such an act.

“So I thought about what compromises we could make. After much deliberation, considering what the sutlers and horse dealers were really after on this journey, this was the only solution I could think of.”

If we were heading to the capital anyway, they could profit from trading there.

It seemed like a good idea at first.

If both I and the lords needed money, drawing it from the wealthy capital seemed like a solution that would make everyone happy.

I planned to conduct fair business with the merchants of the capital, even if negotiations were backed by the threat of a thousand swords, without much guilt.

By purchasing valuable trade goods from the lords, I could reward my knights and soldiers, and pay the horse dealers and traveling merchants who were essentially in the transport business.

At that moment, I thought it was a decent idea for someone as ordinary as me.

At first, that’s what I thought.

“But then… the feudal lords I had plundered decided to join the journey, and the size of the brigade ballooned.”

Almost all the feudal lords offered to accompany us on the journey.

After publicly swearing fealty to me, they followed behind our brigade with their minimum retinue of knights and soldiers, attracting a multitude of merchants.

Claudia spun her finger around again.

With a look that could only be described as seeing through a fool’s facade, she answered me.

“They’re just copying what you’re trying to do, Your Highness.”

The feudal lords weren’t fools.

By joining Princess Valiere’s expedition, they saw a clear advantage.

“I am a knight sworn to Princess Valiere, my lord, and it’s my duty to ensure she safely reaches the imperial city of Windbona.”

Therefore, they naturally intended to assert that they had no intention of paying the imperial tolls or seeking permission from other lords to travel their roads.

That’s what she intended to assert, Claudia answered.

I received her words and made my response.

“So we ensure the safety of our journey by annihilating any bandits along the way, and since we don’t need to conscript local peasants for military service, we just need to maintain minimal military readiness, ride with us to the capital, and push our trade goods on the merchants there?”

Yeah, well.

Indeed, it was an optimal solution, mimicking what I intended to do.

Sturdy bunch.

“That’s right. You’ve underestimated the lords who control the roads to the capital. Some of them are even fantasizing that the tribute paid to Your Highness might not only cover their expenses but also turn a profit.”

Maybe I could have plundered more.

Claudia muttered this with a hint of regret, then added.

“Well, it’s fine. Ultimately, this is acceptable. Your Highness hasn’t suffered a loss. But as I said earlier, the expansion of the brigade is all due to Your Highness’s own doing. Whether they start fighting for honor or lose control and start pillaging towns…”

As if finding no further value in our conversation.

She stomped her iron-shod boots and turned her back on me.

“It’s all your own doing, Your Highness. That you’re peeing blood isn’t just because of that pervert (Lady Sabine). Be prepared for the journey to the capital.”

Only Claudia’s blunt words echoed in the command tent.

Once again, my stomach ached.

“Help me, PomPomPain God.”

I muttered.

Of course, my imaginary god did nothing.