Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 205

I’ve never been good with complicated matters.

I think I might have been a literary youth in my past life, but such memories have long since faded.

I believe everything should be simple, and I’ve always sought to simplify things that become too complex.

Therefore, the first words I speak are not greetings.

Not fawning over the Pope, not the courtesies of a knight, nor a declaration of war.

I stride forward with large steps, fists clenched, as I push open the gates of the inn wide.

Stopping a short distance from the Pope, there’s only one thing I loudly ask.

“What exactly are you thinking, and what do you want to do from here on out?”

It’s a straightforward question to the Pope standing before me.

“I just want to know your true intentions,” I tell her directly.

The Pope’s personal guards cross their spears before me, blocking my path.

Just as expected.

The Pope raises her hand, signaling for her guards to step back.

The guards, understanding her gesture, move away while simultaneously keeping the encroaching crowd at bay.

“A greeting, I see. Living this way must bring you much hardship.”

Not a sigh, but rather, there’s a hint of envy in her tone.

Pope Yulia looks at me, then shifts her gaze aside.

“Or perhaps, all followers of the Cologne Sect are like this. Everyone is sincere and robust—yes, just like the Cardinal I met when I was younger: impulsive, passionate, violent, and barbaric. Always doing as they please.”

To her, it’s as if I’m invisible.

As if she has no interest at all.

She deliberately looks away, acknowledging only one person in her sight—Cardinal Cologne.

“Pardon me, but I do not recall ever meeting a younger version of the Pope. Our first encounter was during a conclave, if I remember correctly.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to remember. No, you simply wouldn’t have known. At that time, I was merely a member of a mendicant order. You weren’t even a bishop yet. Though you saw me, you wouldn’t have recognized someone like me.”

The Pope speaks as if reminiscing.

Yet, Cardinal Cologne looks puzzled, viewing the Pope with the same curiosity as I, representing the Cologne Sect.

Cardinal Cologne candidly asks the question he wants answered.

“I would like to hear more about why you are doing this now. It might be one of the reasons.”

The Pope, slightly startled by Cardinal Cologne’s question, ponders for a moment with a rueful smile.

“Well, it might not be unrelated. Back then, I was merely an orphan picked up by the Virgin as she traveled from country to country, delivering teachings. Recognized for my intellectual potential as a prodigy, I was placed in a monastery where I pursued my studies…”

She speaks calmly.

The Pope talks with the tranquility of a martyr who has achieved enlightenment.

That’s a bit beyond my comprehension.

I imagine a faithful clergyman surviving a bloody papal election, using gold bullets, arsenic-laced silverware, assassins, and betrayers, to ultimately ascend to the papacy.

I can say with certainty:

I can feel a kinship that only superhumans share, and no doubt, the Pope has strangled many with her own hands.

Yet—

“Perhaps this will make sense. Do you know of a girl who tried to cover a knight’s corpse left in a church courtyard because his family didn’t pay the burial fee, and the body was discarded without any funeral rites?”

What I say is quite the opposite of what I expected.

“Ah, I see… You were that girl.”

Cardinal Cologne also realizes this, looking as if he remembers.

Now, the Pope appears to me as a virtuous clergywoman.

Not a corrupt villain, nor a ruffian who disbelieves in God.

“For you, and perhaps for Cardinal Cologne as well, it’s because you brought Cologne followers to that church at that time. I tried to cover the knight’s corpse, but when the mendicant monks tried to stop me, you scattered them and buried the body at the small Cologne chapel. Stories like that are common, aren’t they? The Cologne Sect does such things all the time, always acting as they please.”

I have no particular blame for the actions of the Cologne Sect.

I don’t believe everything they do is wrong.

But they do whatever they wish.

They ignore the problems they create and don’t consider the inconvenience they cause others.

Watching the Pope chuckle bitterly as she said this, it seemed she truly meant it.

Then, as if remembering something, the Pope looked at me.

“…I apologize for the delay in my response, Lord Faust von Polydoro. What are you thinking, and what do you want to do? That was your question, wasn’t it? Let me answer you.”

The Pope stared at me piercingly.

Then, with an air as if bored by the triviality of the question, she quietly replied:

“To restore this orthodoxy, this faith, to its rightful form. I have long wished to reform the thoroughly corrupted orthodoxy. And through the Mongol Empire, which will eventually dominate the continent, I aim to engage in a revival—spreading the faith to new missionary lands. Rest assured, there is not a single lie in what I say.”

Indeed, there seemed to be no deception.

No hint of ambiguity could be sensed.

It was a confession as clear as if everything had been laid bare.

A chilling sensation ran down my spine.

What in the world is she planning?

Silence fell.

The Pope clearly predicted that the Mongol Empire would eventually envelop the continent, even conquering and ruling this Holy Empire, but the ever-present spearmen, whether mercenaries from other nations or just deeply devoted to the Pope, remained unfazed.

Even Cardinal Cologne beside me showed no sign of flinching.

“Any other questions?”

It seemed as if I was the only one feeling rushed.

And then, another person spoke.

My trusted confidant, Martina, frowned in concern and spoke up.

“Pardon the question, Your Holiness. What exactly do you mean by ‘reform’? Are you saying you would hand over the Holy Empire to pagans? How will you accomplish this ‘revival’? Do you intend to proselytize in the Mongol Empire?”

“Ah, the young superhuman. If I recall, your name is Martina von Bösel. I am well aware of you. I know what happened in Anhalt and how you were protected by Lord Polydoro.”

The Pope looked at Martina.

Her gaze was filled with compassionate gentleness.

It was as if she saw her as a fellow believer.

“Yes, I suppose I have thought about what I want to do from here. In response to Lord Polydoro’s simple question, I gave a simple answer. For now, that is all. I do not intend to hide anything. I plan to reveal everything at the tribunal of heresy, before the Elector, Cardinal Cologne, and even our Emperor, who does not fully understand my intentions.”

She spread her hands.

Earlier, she had laid her hands in prayer for her followers.

Those who knelt and bowed their heads received her blessing spoken from the heart.

Now, her hands slowly and impressively opened.

“This time, as a blessing, let’s mention Lady Sabine von Wesperman from Anhalt, who has done everything possible to survive. She sold a boy from her clan because they would perish otherwise, killed the clergyman who bought him, and managed to secure participation in the heresy tribunal with all sorts of vile and ruthless maneuvers. She even used the help of filthy pagans centuries ago to thwart the long-desired reunion of the eastern churches. And now, she plans to let an assassination guild called ‘The Evening Star’ infiltrate the sacred cathedral, the very site of the heresy tribunal.”

Both hands were now clenched like rocks, so tense that even her bones creaked.

“With full awareness of everything, I tell you, faithful Lord Faust von Polydoro, if you wish to die, come to the tribunal of heresy. Stand beside that dirty ‘Emperor Killer’ berserker clan from Anhalt who rose to be Elector, and listen to our faith. Then you will likely die. Taste the flavor of divine punishment.”

I understood then.

The Pope before me was no ordinary person, not just a superhuman.

“Do not be so conceited as to think you are just, or that everything you do is right, that protecting the Holy Empire is the same as protecting the world, Lord Faust von Polydoro. Good and evil are not completely separate. But if you, like Anhalt, once betrayed the Emperor and wish to betray again, you may do so. I am willing to accept your confession, convey your repentance to God, and even plead with the Mongols for a contract to protect your territory—with a guarantee from the Pope herself.”

Martina beside me, as wise and capable of violence as the famed Lord Reckenberg, stood at my side—a superhuman at the same level.

I fully grasped the specifics of my unease.

“Let us hear your response at the Cathedral. I expect a good one.”

If I were to die in this assassination plot, it would be by the Pope’s own hand.

Martina, it’s the shocking truth.

The Pope was the villain of a fantasy novel.

After laying out all the reasons we might die, setting up a tribunal of heresy, and revealing everything.

The Pope truly plans to attack us and kill us all.

“For the sake of Martina, your squire, surviving as well.”

The Pope turned her back and walked away, and I could only watch her leave helplessly.

Martina and I stood there, unable to say anything, just dumbfounded.