Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 19

In the royal chamber, Queen Liesenlotte was seated upon her throne. Around her, high-ranking clergy nobles, lords, and their proxies stood in rows, arranged to face one another.

This assembly was convened for Herma von Bösel, a regional lord who emerged victorious in a succession battle over a town of more than a thousand residents, now to be judged for her oversight in letting Caroline escape.

From Faust’s perspective, the clergy nobles, and lords stood as if they were prosecutors and defense attorneys, each assuming their roles. The clergy sought to use this opportunity to dissolve the Bösel territory and bring it under direct royal control, expressing their desires unequivocally.

“The Bösel territory should be dissolved!” they proclaimed.

Conversely, the lords held an opposing stance. Despite their respect for their sovereign, Queen Liesenlotte, they were keen to prevent setting a precedent of dissolving a regional lordship, a situation they desperately wished to avoid, effectively becoming Herma’s defense.

“They should settle with a compensation payment to Lord Polydoro and the royal family,” they suggested.

Aware of both parties’ positions, Queen Liesenlotte commanded silence with her majestic voice.

“Silence, both sides. We shall decide after hearing Herma von Bösel’s defense,” Queen Liesenlotte declared, halting the debate.

At her side stood the first princess, Anastasia, and her advisor Astarte, and on the other side, the second princess, Valiere, with her advisor Faust, completing the assembly of key figures.

All awaited Herma von Bösel’s arrival and her defense. How would she refute the accusations and protect her territory from harm? The anticipation was palpable, especially for Faust von Polydoro, who found some pleasure in awaiting the judgment, despite his general dissatisfaction with the military levy and the consequences of Caroline’s actions, including a speech by Sabine that seemed to forget the nobility’s true nature, and the loss of volunteer soldiers and a guard unit.

Above all, Caroline’s last will mentioned “Martina,” a name Faust knew referred to Caroline’s only daughter, a fact that brought him discomfort. The thought of a child, noble or not, facing execution troubled him, clashing with his values from a past life.

Nevertheless, the past could not be changed, and Faust resigned to the notion that Herma von Bösel deserved judgment, likely avoiding dissolution but facing a hefty fine to be paid to him and the royal family.

“What are you smiling about, Faust?”

“I am looking forward to the compensation Herma von Bösel will have to pay us. Do you despise me for it?”

“No, Faust, you have every right to expect it,” Valiere surprisingly affirmed, showing a hint of growth through her experiences.

As these thoughts lingered, Herma von Bösel finally made her appearance at the tribunal.

“Herma von Bösel, you may approach.”

Herma von Bösel, the victor of the succession battle against Caroline, presented a frail figure, leaning on a cane and bearing a severe injury on her right leg, likely a result of Caroline’s assault. However, beyond this, Herma’s appearance was inherently delicate, her face pale and limbs thin, reminiscent of Faust’s dying mother, Marianne, suggesting a person unlikely to live long.

Queen Liesenlotte, taken aback by Herma’s frailty, inquired, “Herma, are you still suffering from the wounds inflicted by Caroline during the succession battle?”

“No, Your Majesty. I have always been of this constitution. My apologies for any disrespect,” Herma responded, her condition a stark revelation to all present.

Herma answered with her fragile demeanor,

“Indeed, it’s a miracle I managed to escape Caroline’s clutches.”

This doubt of mine was echoed directly by Queen Liesenlotte.

“How did you manage to elude Caroline? The reports suggest…”

“I was destined to die,”

Herma responded, leaving Queen Liesenlotte visibly shocked.

“What!?”

“I should have been killed by my sister—Caroline. Out of fear for my life, I fled to a safe room installed in the mansion, trembling as I waited for my retainers to repel my sister.”

Herma, despite her frail body, spoke with fervor in her eyes and voice.

“It would have been the best outcome for me to have been killed by Caroline.”

“Wait, Herma. I am not aware of the circumstances of your domain. Nor are the others here,” Queen Liesenlotte said, stopping Herma from continuing her monologue as murmurs of astonishment spread among the assembled nobles and representatives.

“I wish to know more about the situation. What happened in the Bösel domain? Without knowing, we cannot make a judgment.”

“…Then, I shall speak of the shame of my domain, and my shame,” Herma began, responding to their interest.

“To begin with, the greatest misfortune for the Bösel domain was that I, Herma, the eldest daughter, was born frail.”

Herma reminisced as if looking back on her life.

“In contrast, Caroline, the second daughter, was born with a robust body. She was loved by the people in my stead, governing among them and, from the age of 16, served in the military with the retainers for ten years, in place of the frail me.”

The loyalty of the people under Caroline’s command was exceptional. They were soldiers who would not flee until annihilation.

Caroline’s struggle to escape to Virendorf, fighting desperately, came to mind.

And with that, I understood. The relationship over the past ten years. My impression of Caroline as a respectable person at that time was not mistaken.

“Probably, our mother also intended to pass on the succession to Caroline, since I was incapable of governing or fulfilling military duties. However, she never made this clear while she was alive.”

“Why?”

Queen Liesenlotte asked, a question that indeed needed answering.

“Why is something I cannot understand now? Our mother died suddenly of a stroke. Whether she pitied my frailty or there was some problem with Caroline that I am unaware of, it’s puzzling. It’s also strange that she never sent retainers with Caroline during her military service, instead delegating the governance of the domain to others. I truly do not understand my mother’s heart. If she had decided on Caroline as her successor during her lifetime, none of this would have happened…”

The response was as empty as it could get, shrouded in darkness.

“I had always thought it natural for Caroline to succeed in the family. I intended to renounce my rights to succession, for I was incapable of governing or military duties. However, it seems Caroline did not think the same. She considered herself merely a spare. Looking back, I deeply regret this, but that’s how it seemed.”

“Was there no prior discussion within the family?”

Again, Queen Liesenlotte asked.

“Caroline, my sister, despised me, the frail elder sister, for dumping the responsibilities of governance and military duties onto her, the spare,” Herma said sadly, reflecting a sentiment I, as an only son, could not understand. Is this a familiar tale?

Some nobles and lords showed pained expressions, perhaps finding some resonance with their own experiences.

Valiere, standing beside me, shared the same expression.

…Perhaps conflicts over succession are common in all families.

“Anyway, looking back, Caroline must have been pessimistic about the future. What would become of Martina, her only daughter with her late husband? How would the retainers and people who swore loyalty only to Caroline be treated? Though they were elite, the people of the Bösel domain, numbering over a thousand, were in the minority. It’s possible she became paranoid, fearing she might be killed as an obstruction after our mother’s death. This is all speculation, of course.”

Queen Liesenlotte silently took in Herma’s monologue, waiting for it to conclude.

“In the end, upon my mother’s death, Caroline erupted. My sister, along with the retainers and people who had shared the same pot of rice and faced death together, stormed the lord’s mansion.”

“And the outcome?”

The outcome was as expected, but Queen Liesenlotte asked anyway.

“As I mentioned earlier, I should have been killed right there but escaped to the safe room out of a desire to live. Eventually, the knights and their soldiers, my retainers, somehow managed to push back Caroline’s forces.”

Herma muttered with evident regret.

“However, their action was not out of loyalty. It was not loyalty. They merely adhered to the convention that the eldest daughter should succeed and sought to use me, Herma, as a puppet to freely control the Bösel domain for their own desires.”

Queen Liesenlotte was at a loss for words, her expression one of disbelief at such foolishness. What future could possibly await?

I heard that over a hundred lives were lost in the Bösel domain, including loyal retainers and elite citizens. How would they manage military duties now? Even if they managed to push Caroline back, starting from scratch without the know-how and having lost a hundred human resources, they were virtually at a dead end. Is there any bright future for the Bösel domain?

Queen Liesenlotte’s expression seemed to question this, which Herma appeared to sense keenly. Despite her frailty, she was not dull.

“There is no future in that, but in times of emergency, people can only see what’s directly in front of them, I foolishly think,” Herma spoke, hinting at the narrow-sighted decisions made in the Bösel domain.

Herma continued her story.

“Caroline was driven out of the Bösel domain. During that, valuables were stolen from the lord’s mansion by the retainers and people, two carriages were taken, and with seventy of the retainers and citizens who had served in the military, she fled the Bösel domain.”

“And then she absorbed thirty bandits, is that correct?”

“Indeed, as Queen Liesenlotte has heard—cough,” Herma coughed, her distress evident in the sound. If blood were mixed in her phlegm, I wouldn’t have been surprised, recalling how my own mother, Marianne, had coughed up blood.

“My apologies.”

“Don’t worry, continue. Take your time.”

“Understood.”

Herma went on.

“Caroline, having absorbed the bandits, committed an indefensible act. As a gift to the enemy nation of Virendorf, she attacked the royal demesne, abducting men and boys.”

“…I’m aware of the rest from Faust von Polydoro’s report. She succeeded in her raid and intended to defect to Virendorf.”

“Yes. Having lost everything—at least, that’s what my sister Caroline must have thought. Her ultimate destination was nothing but defection.”

The story now came full circle.

“Why didn’t you send an army after Caroline?”

“My retainers refused to pursue her beyond our borders, risking their lives. Once outside, they would be in Caroline’s territory, experienced in military matters. They feared for their lives. I, Herma, could only instruct them to flee to the royal demesne.”

“I’m at a loss for words at the incompetence of your retainers.”

To put it bluntly, Herma should have died. It’s a harsh thought that even she acknowledges, but obviously, it’s not something one would say out loud.

“Herma,” Queen Liesenlotte addressed her after she finished speaking.

“Why didn’t you die?”

The question was blunt. Even Faust wouldn’t dare say such words. If Caroline had won, at least the royal demesne wouldn’t have been attacked, and Caroline, who had contributed to the military and the nation for ten years, wouldn’t have died. The retainers would have followed Caroline if Herma had been killed. Her life was deemed insignificant. “You should have died when you had the chance! Isn’t that the way of the nobility?”

That was Queen Liesenlotte’s conclusion. However, Herma’s response was fitting.

“…I mentioned shame at the beginning. That’s everything. In hindsight, I should have died.”

In a crisis, she acted out of a desire to live, a natural response. There’s not much to be done about that. I almost clicked my tongue in annoyance but stopped myself; such behavior would be inappropriate here, especially towards Herma, who had confessed everything honestly.

“Queen Liesenlotte-sama, I beseech you”

“What is it?”

Queen Liesenlotte, who had begun to spread her displeasure among those around her, listened as the atmosphere grew tense. High-ranking officials and nobles, sensing their sovereign’s anger, remained silent.

In such a charged atmosphere, Herma, with a voice as if coughing up blood, cried out,

“I beg of you to recognize the succession of Martina, the orphan of my sister Caroline, to the leadership of our domain. There is no other path left for our land, for Bösel!”

Her plea was of shocking nature.

Caroline’s only daughter, Martina, was still alive?

Why?

Shouldn’t she already have been executed?

As confusion filled the room, Herma continued her outcry, ignoring the murmuring voices of the high-ranking officials and nobles.

“Please—I implore you to spare Martina’s life and allow her succession. There is no other way left for our domain, for Bösel!”

The paradox in her appeal was profound—advocating for the succession of Martina, the descendant of a betrayer and a vanquished contender in the battle for leadership, to inherit the Bösel domain.

Herma, ostensibly the victor in the succession conflict or, more accurately, the one who inadvertently survived, persisted in her impassioned pleas with a visage as though she was on the brink of coughing up blood.