Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 7

Even from my childhood, I recall it being the grandest festival in the village.

It was the festival held on the day Lord Faust was born.

The Polydoro domain was a tight-knit small village of just under 300 people, where everyone was familiar with each other’s faces.

All the villagers visited the lord’s mansion to see the newborn Lord Faust.

Of course, being from a family that has served as the head retainer for generations in the Polydoro domain, I was one of them.

Lord Faust was unusually quiet for a baby and did not cry.

Lord Faust, born as the first son to the previous Lord Polydoro—Lady Marianne, was celebrated by my inebriated mother, who joyfully proclaimed he would become a man to make nations tremble.

Though our village was far from wealthy, the mayor, in high spirits for this sole occasion, generously opened the village’s food stores.

We children indulged in the feast and filled our bellies.

—The shadow cast over the village soon after when Lady Marianne’s husband died from tuberculosis.

“The collective plea of all villagers is before you. Lady Marianne, we implore you to take a new husband.”

These were the words of plea from my mother, the head retainer.

I knew how much Lady Marianne loved her deceased husband.

But it couldn’t be helped.

Without a firstborn daughter, the village and the Polydoro domain could not continue.

Beside my deeply bowing mother, I watched Lady Marianne’s face for her reaction.

Her tormented expression is something I still remember to this day.

She seemed to struggle between her duties as a noble lord and her still-fresh love for her husband.

And then—Lady Marianne became a bit strange.

Perhaps due to her anguish, she lost her senses.

She began teaching Lord Faust, a boy, how to use a spear and sword.

Of course, she was stopped.

By the mayor, by my mother, and by her deceased husband’s relatives.

But Lady Marianne ignored all persuasions and continued to teach Lord Faust the art of the sword and spear.

Eventually, everyone gave up, thinking Lady Marianne had gone mad.

They thought the child—Lord Faust himself would get angry and quit since no other boys his age were doing such things.

Lady Marianne was beyond help.

We hoped Lord Faust would find a strong and capable wife.

However, Lord Faust diligently followed Lady Marianne’s teachings.

In addition to governance and management education, he endured the physical hardship of training.

Even I, proud to inherit the role of head retainer, found sword and spear training difficult.

I was battered with wooden swords and even participated in actual combat drills with blunted weapons.

Yet, Lord Faust never cried and continued his training diligently.

He was a child who did not cry.

“—Apple.”

I muttered, snapping back to reality.

Currently, Lord Faust and the Ingritt Merchant Association were in the midst of discussions in the guest room.

I stood firm in front of the door, ensuring no one approached.

While I kept watch, my thoughts drifted back to my childhood memories.

Apples.

Yes, apples.

During sword and spear training, apples were always served as dessert for lunch, which Lord Faust shared with me.

He would split a single apple in two with a knife.

—Lord Faust himself would have wanted to eat a whole apple.

Such were my thoughts.

Lord Faust was always kind to us villagers, even from a young age.

He insisted on sharing, saying, “You must be hungry too,” even when I refused.

I always wanted to ask Lord Faust something.

“Aren’t you in pain?”

Of course, I could never voice such a question to Lord Faust, a noble.

Lord Faust’s hands had already formed calluses from the sword at a young age.

—Time passed, and we aged.

I transitioned from my childhood to become a full-fledged head retainer.

And Lord Faust changed as well.

He was not unattractive.

His facial features were well-formed.

If I may say so, as a head retainer, he was rather noble and beautiful.

But according to the value system of the girls within the Anhalt Kingdom, he was, well, too tall.

By the age of 15, he had reached 180cm.

And his hands were filled with sword and spear calluses, hardly looking like those of a nobleman.

Yet—

He was truly kind to the villagers.

Uncommon for a nobleman, he had little desire for material possessions.

Lady Marianne bought the hair ornaments and rings as mere apologies during her military duties outside the domain.

All such items were given away during local weddings or to men who had come for the villagers on every possible occasion.

The men were pleased, but I was saddened to see Lord Faust losing his masculinity.

Thus, I once asked him.

“Aren’t you sad to part with the hair ornaments and rings?”

Lord Faust answered.

“Hair ornaments don’t suit me, a tall man, and about the rings,”

Lord Faust showed me his rough, calloused fingers.

I regretted my words.

Rings bought from the town market, not custom-made, couldn’t fit him.

Gradually, I came to disdain Lady Marianne in my heart.

Didn’t she love her child?

Is this how she treats her son?

While pondering these thoughts, Lady Marianne fell ill.

She had always been frail.

At 15, Lord Faust began to serve in her place in the military.

During his service, he asked me a strange question.

“Are there no other male knights besides me?”

I found myself hesitating to answer. Such things should be common knowledge, I mused. Yet, a response was necessary.

But I had to respond.

“In the territory of the so-called barbarians—pardon me, in Virendorf, such instances have been noted, but not within the Anhalt Kingdom.”

Equating him to barbarians.

Even as I fretted that it might be an insult to Lord Faust, he murmured in response.

“Is that so? So that’s how it is.”

His expression was surprisingly serene. I detected no anger in his response, not towards my words nor Lady Marianne for raising him as a knight.

Then he spoke again.

“I have another question. If I were to distinguish myself as a knight—”

Would my mother be pleased? He asked.

I was unable to answer his question.

I couldn’t comprehend Lord Faust’s thoughts.

Was he yearning for affection from his deranged mother? Or was he in search of reason? The intent remained ambiguous.

—And then, another five years passed.

I came to share a husband with my sisters, and Lord Faust grew into a young man nearly 2 meters tall.

And then, Lady Marianne began to cough up blood, her end drawing near.

“The time to part with my mother has come,” Lord Faust murmured as he opened the bedroom door.

His voice trembled slightly.

The bedroom beyond the door was silent.

The mayor, my mother, who had retired as head retainer, Lord Faust, and I were present.

And Lady Marianne, on the verge of death.

“Faust,” Lady Marianne called his name.

Lord Faust approached the bed and gently stroked her face, which had become too frail to drink soup properly.

“Faust. Your hand,” she requested.

Lord Faust extended his hand, rough with sword and spear calluses, and Lady Marianne grasped it with trembling hands.

Then, very quietly, she whispered her last words.

“I’m sorry, Faust.”

A voice leaked out as she held his hand, apologizing as if seeking atonement.

A strained, infant-like sound that seemed to tear at the hearts of those around.

It was the sound of Lord Faust sobbing.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he spoke through his sobs.

“No, it’s not like that. Mother, you’re mistaken.”

Lord Faust shook his head as if to absolve her of guilt, clinging to her words.

“I never suffered because of you. I never hated you in this life. I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t been able to repay you. I should have talked more with you. I should have—”

Tears streaming down his face, Lord Faust denied the reality before him.

“I haven’t been respectful at all. It’s too soon. I’ve finally understood that I love you as my mother—”

“Lord Faust—”

My mother attempted to intervene as Lord Faust and Lady Marianne held each other’s hands.

Was she trying to separate them?

No, rather, she was trying not to let go, murmuring his name as she clutched their hands.

“Lord Faust.”

My mother tried to say something, but her trembling voice failed to form words; she could only call out Lord Faust’s name.

Lady Marianne had already passed away.

Unable to convey this fact, she simply called out Lord Faust’s name while crying.

Holding her hand, Lord Faust likely understood this without needing to be told.

But still, he continued to address Lady Marianne’s body.

“Nothing yet… not yet…”

In a daze, Lord Faust continued to cry.

That day, I witnessed Lord Faust shedding tears for the first time, leading me to realize the existence of a profound love between parents and children—understood truly only by themselves and, often, only in the final moments.

—Ah.

I can hear Lord Faust’s voice.

“Helga.”

Helga.

I am the head retainer of the Polydoro domain, a retainer to Lord Faust.

“Yes, Lord Faust?”

“Lady Ingritt is leaving. Open the door for her.”

Silently, I opened the door and bowed to see Lady Ingritt off.

Another retainer would see her to her carriage.

“Helga, come inside.”

“Yes.”

Called by Lord Faust, I entered the guest room.

Lord Faust, sitting in a chair, seemed troubled.

“What did Lady Ingritt want to say?”

He seemed to ask me, or perhaps it was just a rhetorical question.

“Well, Helga, take a seat here.”

“Yes.”

I sat in the chair in front of Lord Faust as commanded.

After watching me sit, Lord Faust murmured as if complaining.

“When will I ever get married?”

“Someone who understands Lord Faust’s worth will surely appear eventually.”

I said this from the bottom of my heart.

Truly, everyone lacks vision.

The clerical nobles scorn a male knight.

The royal family sent Lord Faust and us to our deaths.

Duchess Astarte tries to ingratiate herself with Lord Faust using her power.

I’m sick of them all.

To me, Lord Faust is the only noble worth serving.

“Lord Faust, let’s return to the Polydoro domain soon. As for a bride, we’ll just have to find someone suitable. It can’t be helped.”

“You’ve become quite outspoken, haven’t you?”

Lord Faust laughed, remembering how I was nervous about saying anything to a noble.

I’ve become outspoken because I believe it’s better for Lord Faust, even at the risk of being beheaded.

“Isn’t there the Second Princess’s Royal Guard nearby?”

“Well… that’s close by. Far from being a connection to the royal family or clerical nobles. The Second Princess’s Royal Guard mostly comprises disowned second and third daughters and the lowest-ranked knights, right?”

Lord Faust replied.

I spoke bluntly.

“Do we need connections with the royal family or clerical nobles?”

“No, we don’t.”

Lord Faust answered calmly.

My frankness was effective.

“Then, during this military service—the Second Princess Valiere’s first battle, maybe we’ll scout for a suitable beauty.”

“Please do.”

I hoped for a strong woman who could stand by Lord Faust without him having to serve in her place, someone who could proclaim herself as the Lady of Polydoro and make the world recognize her strength.

With that wish, I asked Lord Faust for permission to stand up.

※

My regrets are endless.

My regret towards my deceased mother knows no bounds.

Despite the exhaustion from military duties borne by her ailing body, my mother never failed to bring back souvenirs from the town market each year.

Battling a body frequently confined to her bed, she instilled in me everything about governance, management, and the arts of the sword and spear—all that is required of a lord knight.

Why couldn’t I, in my foolishness, understand my mother’s love until her final moments?

Because I had memories of a previous life?

What does that matter, damn it all?

The thought that my mother regretted giving me such harsh training as her way of educating me, to the point of feeling disgusted with myself, makes me want to die.

Yet, I cannot earnestly wish for death. This body is a precious gift bequeathed by my mother.

I must protect the villagers I inherited from her, the territory, and Polydoro.

For that reason…

“Choosing from the Second Princess’s Royal Guard… I wanted to connect with a martial bureaucrat noble’s second daughter who understands the frontier.”

But Helga makes a valid point.

From the bottom of my heart, I truly do not want to be involved in court politics.

I should have never become the Second Princess’s advisor in the first place.

“However, the Second Princess’s Royal Guard is—”

I hesitate to finish the thought.

That is…

To put it bluntly—

“A dumping ground for misfits by Queen Liesenlotte, for spares.”

I couldn’t help but speak ill.

With dismay, I find myself utterly disillusioned by the fact that my prospects for a bride are limited to just them.

Doubting whether any of them could truly manage the duties of a lord, I moved to the bed to take a quiet nap.