Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World

There exists a technology known as rifling.

In the barrels of guns, “spiral” grooves are carved.

These “spirals” impart a spinning motion to the bullet as it accelerates through the barrel, stabilizing its axis and enhancing its straight-line trajectory.

Though the development was not announced by the Kern sect, it was conducted by others.

It is likely that the Kern sect had developed it long ago but chose to keep it secret.

That’s what I believe.

…

I sit in silence, fiddling with a bullet shaped like an acorn.

There were problems.

Rifling improved accuracy and extended range, but there were more severe issues.

First, the high cost of the process to carve the “spirals.”

Next, the mechanism by which the bullet bites and rotates caused delays due to the effort required to load bullets through the muzzle.

These two issues were fatal during wartime.

Thus, rifling never became widespread.

This knowledge is etched into the Pope’s mind.

…

I’m troubled.

I’ve been silent, deeply troubled.

What has the Kern sect created?

My thirst for knowledge restrains the words of an imminent outburst.

The Kern sect has packed some message into this bullet.

It’s shaped like an acorn, with grooves carved at the bottom and a dent present.

The bottom is fitted with an iron cap, and the skirt is likely designed to flare.

Ah.

The Kern sect has presented me with the pinnacle of current developments in gunpowder and firearms.

I speculate.

This bullet is small, designed to be loaded from the muzzle, and engineered to improve slow firing rates.

Naturally, it would also reduce the high costs involved in the rifling process.

Yes, what was I thinking?

The Kern sect clearly keeps their technology secret, implying that they have already discovered advancements generations ahead of their time.

Following the notes left by their founder, they continue to advance and develop this technology.

…

“This skirt?”

The words I uttered were not those of a breakdown in negotiations.

Nor were they the fatal words that would spark a massacre.

It was a question.

What is this dent for?

By pressing the iron cap and flaring the skirt, what is it meant to accomplish?

Cardinal Kern did not answer.

“I leave it to His Holiness’s imagination.”

“You mean you won’t answer?”

Perhaps, due to the explosion of gunpowder, the skirt at the bullet’s bottom flares and matches the rifling “spirals.”

…The effect?

It would compensate for the musket’s biggest flaw, “the bullet doesn’t fly straight.”

“The bullet will fly straight, focusing all its force there.”

It would correct the extreme shortness of effective range and the terribly low accuracy.

Or is that all?

Could it also have the tremendous power to penetrate breastplates?

Formulas float through my mind, and calculations begin.

…

Yet, it wouldn’t reach the Mongol horse archers.

They carry over 400 arrows each.

How much difference is there between their effective range and that of the rifled bullets produced by the Kern sect?

Given the abundant resources of the Mongols, composite bows with ranges exceeding 600 meters might exist.

But such items are not mass-producible.

However, the same can be said for the Kern sect’s rifling technology.

Then, which would win in actual combat?

A slight difference in range is significant, but tactics can overcome it.

I am becoming unsure.

Yes, my mind is starting to get confused.

Can we win?

Perhaps, if the Kern sect reveals their firearms technology, we could defeat the Mongols?

If this bullet becomes standardized, while not easily, there might be a chance for victory.

It would depend on battle tactics, though.

Then, could my actions be considered a cowardly betrayal of the Holy Empire?

No, everyone knows the Holy Empire is corrupt.

A reality continues where “the war of all against all” persists.

If the Kern sect is seeking a way to solve everyone’s hunger…

Perhaps it is better to wait for their technology to spread explosively.

Neither the Holy Empire nor the Mongols can guarantee the people’s future now.

I am troubled.

…

“Paraiso.”

The word for paradise or heaven, from the homeland of the Mother Superior of the mendicant order who took me in as an orphan, shakes as I utter it.

Where is “Paraiso”?

I am becoming unsure.

Before I began this almost heretical inquiry, I had unwavering belief.

I thought that, with Seora by my side, we could build a new nation.

Though it would involve much bloodshed and suffering.

I even thought a new era could finally be established at the cost of those sacrifices.

Now, I feel that my grand ambitions are petty and foolish.

After much agonizing, I considered just one thing—trust.

Not “Can Seora truly be trusted?” but rather, “Even if Seora guarantees it, can she ensure its execution?”

It’s an empty promise.

There’s no guarantee.

The only guarantee is Seora’s character itself.

She is charismatic.

She doesn’t lie; she is a person of integrity with magnetic charisma.

That’s why she leads such a bizarre group as the superhuman legion and marches on the Holy Empire, speaking of dreams.

She explained the reasons for building a new state.

She is not a liar.

But still, no guarantee can be made.

It’s not that Seora can’t be trusted.

It’s that “The nation of Mongolia cannot guarantee that it won’t betray Seora.”

Compared to Cardinal Kern, who shares the same faith, she just doesn’t seem as trustworthy.

So, I—

“Seora, I—”

“It’s alright, Pope Yulia.”

Seora stood up, her robe fluttering slightly as she shifted toward me.

She gave up, doing nothing.

…

She seemed to be troubled, just like me.

Ah, because the technology of the Kern sect is what she truly needs.

Because she is the one who truly desires it.

In a world where everything is lacking, in a world striving to build a Commonwealth.

The technology of the Kern sect would bring the salvation she desired.

…

“What will we do?”

I asked her.

It was a truly strange question.

“What will we do?” There’s nothing Seora can do.

She cannot stop the Mongol invasion.

Even if she died, there would be no way to stop it.

Suicide would have no value either.

The best she could do was lead the Holy Empire to surrender under better terms.

To build a better country upon the ruins of that great destruction.

…

“Perhaps,” Seora replied softly, her words so faint I wasn’t sure she was responding to me.

“If the times were different, you and I could have become true friends. But even that is something the era does not allow.”

She gave a clear response.

“I’ll reflect deeply on this failure. Even if we aim for the same goals, some things just don’t work out. Mongolia is too skilled and too proud in the act of conquest. I have ultimately failed to earn the Pope’s trust.”

The fatal breakdown was not with this Pope.

It was Seora, the daughter of Tokhtoa, the princess of the Mongol Empire, who understood everything unsaid.

“I’ll kill everyone here. Including you, Pope. Then, if possible, I’ll kidnap Cardinal Kern and flee from the imperial capital.”

Seora didn’t move a finger; she merely declared the breakdown.

After I returned three bullets to Cardinal Kern, I just stated the facts to everyone.

“I confess. I, Pope Yulia, had a secret agreement with Seora, the daughter of the Mongol Emperor. But now it’s ‘gone.’ The agreement between us is broken here. The cause is my inability to trust Mongolia. Therefore, as a penalty for this betrayal, I hereby announce my resignation from the papacy. The Electors may kill me or appoint someone else to the papal throne, as they wish. I no longer have any attachment to life or power. However—”

I did not hesitate.

The decisive words came out.

“There’s no turning back now. From this moment, it is no longer permissible for the Holy Empire to surrender. There is no such thing as a ‘clean loss.’ The option of ‘better to surrender quietly!’ no longer exists. Strive to win, at least for now.”

For now.

The only necessary thing was one.

“Kill that woman in the robe. She is Seora, the daughter of the Mongol Emperor, one of the commanders who will attack the Holy Empire, and a powerful general entrusted with the only superhuman legion in Mongolia. If she dies, a chance of victory might appear.”

Ruthlessly, just kill the enemy.

The moment I said that, Elector Anastasia roared in rage.

“Faust! It’s your turn!!”

Who could appear, I wondered.

All eyes in the cathedral turned to the door.

Would Faust von Polydoro break through that door?

Or perhaps someone else altogether.

Maybe someone from Seora’s escort.

Or perhaps someone from the “Mad Boar Knights” led by Duke Temeraire.

Thinking this, I stared at the door, but for now, there was no reaction.

—What is happening?

…