Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 201

Shall we delve into an old story?

It was a time when Eastern colonization was bustling.

Not a period when the Electorate of the Holy Gusten Empire was determined by the usual seven electors, nor was the chair of the Elector Council the Archbishop-Elector of Mainz.

In fact, there wasn’t even a system of imperial elections; back when Anhalt wasn’t yet a kingdom, nor an electorate.

It was before the current ruling dynasty took the imperial throne.

The position of the Holy Gusten Emperor was essentially vacant, predating the era known as the Great Vacancy.

This tale stretches back over 300 years… how far should I explain?

Well, Faust, my dear.

I know you’re a terribly impatient man.

And a bit slow-witted too.

Anastasia loves those simple parts of you.

So, I thought I’d condense our earlier conversation to make it easier for you.

“Imagine a time when the emperor had enough charisma not to be trifled with, and there was even a centralizing force before the secular princes began their independent territorial policies, leading to feudal fragmentation. About 400 years ago.”

That’s what I’d like you to consider.

It would be interesting to discuss the details, but my dear Faust probably wouldn’t care.

Martina might have responded entertainingly, but it’s not something I could teach that girl.

Knowing her, that quick-witted little girl might start pondering unnecessary things.

Now that I think about it, it would be troublesome if you asked her too much.

At least Duke Temeraire is somewhat trustworthy now, so it’s fine for him to be here.

Right, right.

After careful consideration, it’s enough for Faust to know just a part.

You dislike that ageless “Old Man of the Mountain,” and Nahid, the lolibaba pretending to be a little girl next to you, insists she was alive during the incident.

Just the crucial parts are fine.

It was when the legitimate religion of our country gathered, and the Holy Gusten Imperial forces participated in the invasion of Pars.

So, what was the publicly stated reason?

Officially, it was about reclaiming the holy land.

At that time, an event occurred where the holy city was seized by infidels.

This was a huge shock to all the countries proclaiming the orthodox faith.

Oh, what a thing.

This is where the beautiful single-headed eagle banner was raised in the empire, crowned by the Pope, and the emperor was required to secure the welfare of the people.

The Holy Gusten Emperor himself was said to be the one to reclaim the holy land from evil.

Not only that.

Even the detestable frog-eaters and those calling themselves ladies of the United Kingdom joined in.

It was a military alliance of kings.

How many kings and knights joined in anger to prove their faith and reclaim the holy land.

That’s how it’s put.

Because it sounds good.

Well.

But no one really believed it.

Probably, no decent person wanted to join.

Truth be told, for most people, the holy land didn’t matter much.

After all, what’s the use of a holy land they’ve never seen?

Does the holy land turn into bread?

Does the holy land become wine?

Everyone knows there’s no Savior anymore, right?

Pilgrims to the holy land? Who cares.

If they get killed by infidels on the way, just say they were unlucky and move on.

Among them, how many people had the luxury to travel to the holy land and be happy about it?

Even a trip to see a son who went to a neighboring village for a marriage swap was a life-or-death risk in an era when one could be attacked by bandit knights or brigands.

Even the Holy Gusten Emperor at the time thought securing Gusten, the former imperial capital and the center of our orthodox faith, was more important than such a distant place.

To regain the former homeland and imperial capital was a true honor.

So, what value does acquiring an uninteresting holy land add to our lives?

Probably only one king believed in such a thing.

A queen of the United Kingdom, a lady known as the Lionheart, foolhardy and ruining the national economy for her vanity.

Even Liesenlotte thinks she was utterly foolish.

“For the sake of such a holy land, the expedition costs, the ransom when she was captured, messing up the national economy with military expenses she freely incurred, not soothing her subjects at all, and leaving all the problems she caused to the next king to die a cowardly death. I would never want to be such a foolish hero. What a king should do is figure out how to secure peace for the current subjects and take responsibility for the next generation,” was her favorite saying.

Wars were secondary; she devoted herself entirely to national politics.

Even when Faust claimed that the Mongol Empire was approaching and we needed to be vigilant.

What’s the point? It’s more important to guide your own people to peace, her mother would ask, tilting her head in complete wonderment—there was that side of her.

I think of her as an awful hag deep down, but I respect her for being absolutely flawless in national economics.

Though I’d never say it to her face.

She excelled in internal affairs, but when it came to military matters, she was even reluctant to send private troops to Windbona.

Even the Windbona expedition led by Reckenber was mostly settled with money, without much deployment of our troops.

I digress again.

People have their individualities.

Even she, called the Lionheart, was undeniably competent in bravery.

Even the infidels, well, praised her at least for that.

Just for her bravery.

“Let’s get back to the story. So, about why everyone got dragged into fighting for a holy land that only a very few actually cared about.”

Everyone knew the holy land had been taken.

Really, it didn’t matter much.

It wouldn’t have mattered if someone hadn’t made a fuss about it.

Back then, an 87-year-old decrepit elder heard about it and blustered.

A pope who died suddenly within three months of his tenure—a truly dying old man—blustered.

“Reclaim the holy land from the infidels! It’s a crusade! Any believer who does not participate commits a sin!”

He blustered such things.

A common name for a pope, now which one was it?

Doesn’t matter, but that’s what he blustered.

Despite everyone’s displeasure, and many not wanting it, he declared we should reclaim the holy land.

To be honest, there’s even doubt whether the pope himself actually said it.

Wasn’t it just that no one wanted to take responsibility?

From the standpoint of the orthodox church, it was a statement they couldn’t avoid making, but maybe it was more like, “If everyone hates it, they might as well ignore it.”

I even think that.

The church didn’t want to take responsibility for a failed crusade, so they likely made a dying old man pope just to have him say it.

And so began the unwanted crusade against the infidels.

Damn it.

No one wanted to go, but it couldn’t be helped.

Ordered by the pope, everyone ended up going reluctantly.

Wait, didn’t they not want to go?

Couldn’t they have just refused?

It’s not that simple.

Foreign lands are far away.

It’s scary to leave home.

It’s risky even to go to the next village, let alone something like this.

But once ordered by the pope, if your lord or family says you must go, you have to—for the sake of honor.

Sure, many would happily go if it meant killing nearby knights and plundering their wealth.

Who would want to fight for a holy land they’ve never even seen?

No one.

Only a few misguided fools, that’s all.

Even you, Faust, would think so, and you’d refuse if I called upon you.

Because there’s no military obligation.

Basically, back then, not everyone who didn’t want to go could refuse because there was no such freedom for territorial knights.

It was a centralized era.

Even being labeled as “warriors” who must uphold the faith, if knights refused to join the crusade, they would be scorned by others.

Reluctantly, families would send a knight as a sacrifice to muddy the waters.

At worst, one would offer themselves as a sacrifice, entrusting their lands to their daughters or other relatives, and depart for hell.

If not, they’d face ostracism from noble society.

Really, are they truly faithful?

Or are they just scared to fight the infidels?

Scared, despite being a knight?

That’s the horrible thing they’d be accused of.

Well, if someone said that to my face, I could kill them and spit on their corpse, asking, “Are you laughing at me now?”

But to be laughed at and mocked in whispers was unbearable.

That’s the honor of the nobility.

For a knight living in noble society, being disrespected is the last thing they’d allow.

I’m not saying no knights willingly participated, but they were probably just mistaken or naive.

There are even tales from older crusades of crusaders boiling and roasting infidels’ bodies for food.

It’s not because it’s fine to do anything to infidels.

Rather, it’s a bizarre honor-driven act that doesn’t make much sense.

They resorted to such measures out of desperation during famine in foreign lands.

Knowing such stories beforehand, who would willingly go to such hell?

Anyway, anyway.

There were some knights under some delusion, but understand that not everyone eagerly set out to reclaim the holy land from the infidels.

From here, we must move on to the main point.

“Here, a woman appears.”

She is our founder.

Of course, our history goes back even further.

But she was the founder as a royal claiming to be the King of Anhalt.

She participated in the unwanted expedition against the infidels, fought several battles.

And yet, she harbored resentment towards the emperor who wouldn’t let her return home.

What was so wrong about that?

On the battlefield, she quietly said to herself:

“They are not infidels. Let’s kill the emperor and return to our lands. If the emperor dies, I can return to my homeland.”

That’s what she muttered.

As I’ve explained so far, understand that our founder reached such a clear, logical decision.

I’d like to argue that there was nothing wrong with the founder of Anhalt.

She guided the enemy infidels to kill the Holy Gusten Emperor of that time.

What was wrong with that?

As a descendant of Anhalt, that’s what I believe.

“Eh… Isn’t that a terribly long excuse, you? Justifying guiding an infidel assassin to kill your own lord with a secret contract doesn’t make it any better.”

Quiet, Nahid.

I, Anastasia, told off that suspicious lolibaba, who insists she was alive back then.