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

“No good after all!”

Sabine, the captain of the Second Princess’s Royal Guard, exclaimed in a voice full of regret.

One of the royal guards answered.

“Well, that’s to be expected.”

It was a response that made sense. Even if Lady Valiere had approved, the finance bureaucrats would never authorize expenses for visits to a brothel as a reason.

There was no hope from the start.

Yet, they did not stop because of the hope of a “what if.”

They were the hope of virgins at just 18 years of age.

The possibility had been tempting.

Is that a sin, I wonder?

“But, I heard something good instead. No, I should say I remembered. Lord Polydoro!”

“Lord Polydoro?”

The Advisor to the Second Princess.

He was said to have achieved the highest military feat as an individual knight in the Virendorf campaign.

In a situation even Duchess Astarte was about to give up on, he turned the tide of battle with his personal bravery.

The only male knight in this country.

“What about Lord Polydoro?”

“You don’t get it, all of you. Lord Polydoro, the sacred virgin, the lordly knight.”

“Huh?”

They couldn’t grasp what was being implied.

All 15 Second Princess’s Royal Guard members were gathered in their favorite cheap tavern.

They scraped together coins from the bottoms of their purses, exchanging copper for silver to buy a barrel of ale before their first battle.

They had taken over the cheap tavern with 15 people.

“This man might be the strongest knight in the Kingdom of Anhalt.”

“We know.”

We’ve heard the heroic songs from minstrels enough to grow ears on our ears.

The only tactical mistake the young Duchess Astarte made against Virendorf was a temporary collapse of rear areas.

More specifically, the strategic point, Princess Anastasia’s base, was discovered by barbarian scouts quietly infiltrated by 30 elite soldiers.

This led to a temporary disruption of communication—magic crystals only echoing the sounds of swords and the screams of the dying.

The turmoil within Duchess Astarte’s forces, thinking Princess Anastasia might have been killed, caused a breakdown in morale and confusion.

Taking advantage of this turmoil, Virendorf forces, outnumbering them, surrounded Duchess Astarte’s army.

Amid this, the only one who understood the situation, Lord Polydoro, led about 20 of his people against 50 knights, cutting through the enemy to escape certain death.

He cleaved through the rank-and-file with his sword, defeated nine knights, and, in a duel, killed the commander of the barbarians—Knight Commander Reckenber, returning his head respectfully on the spot.

“Strong women they were. I shall never forget this battle,” he said with a flushed face of rage, ignoring the petrified enemy soldiers to return to his lines.

The fall of the front-line commander caused the barbarians to freeze, stalling the battlefield momentarily.

During this pause, communication with Princess Anastasia, who had repelled the enemies at the base, was restored, and Duchess Astarte’s regular soldiers regained their morale.

The man who turned a disadvantageous battle around with his personal bravery.

No wonder he became the subject of heroic songs.

After all, being a male knight was too perfect a theme for minstrels.

“But Lord Polydoro is a muscular man over 2 meters tall, isn’t he?”

One of the royal guards spoke up.

Meaning, he wasn’t exactly to her taste.

“But Duchess Astarte herself has said his buttocks are top-notch. You don’t get it. For men, it’s all about the buttocks, the buttocks.”

Another royal guard spoke up.

Meaning she was a buttocks enthusiast.

Irrelevant, but Duchess Astarte’s remarks about being unable to restrain herself from squeezing Lord Polydoro’s buttocks, saying “Ah, I once squeezed Lord Polydoro’s buttocks, and it was indeed splendid. I’m completely obsessed with squeezing buttocks. Maybe next time, I’ll do it in hell,” were taken as mad ravings surrounded by enraged citizens under Lord Polydoro’s command—yet, it was all true.

Duchess Astarte managed to escape hell by paying Lord Polydoro an apology fee for the buttock squeezing.

And the story returns to the royal guards.

“A man needs a dick, a dick. As long as he’s got one, that’s all that matters. I don’t care about anything else.”

Yet another royal guard opened her mouth.

She was decidedly a fan of the male member.

In other words, it was lewd talk.

The conversation had completely devolved—or rather, degenerated into lewdness.

This was typical of the royal guards.

Always engaging in lewd talk, swinging swords and spears at the training ground whenever they had free time.

Their brains were muscle.

They were chimpanzees, to put it bluntly.

No, that term might even be an insult to chimpanzees.

But Sabine and her royal guards didn’t care much about such public opinion.

Not out of pride.

They were simply shameless.

“I’ll say it again, all of you. Lord Polydoro, the sacred virgin, the lordly knight.”

“So what about that?”

One of the previously silent royal guards finally spoke up.

What exactly are you trying to say?

That was the question.

“Becoming Lord Polydoro’s wife could be our escape from this life of poverty.”

Silence fell over the cheap tavern.

The 15 royal guards shut their mouths.

And each began to harbor their wild thoughts.

It was a delusion.

Undoubtedly, it was nothing but a delusion.

To think they, of the lowest knightly rank, could become a lordly knight’s wife!

To have a virgin husband was like a dream within a dream for them.

“Gentlemen, we are but 15 people. Merely knights of the lowest rank!”

Sabine, the captain of the royal guard, slammed the table.

A little ale spilled from the mug.

“However, but. I know you all are virgins burning with sexual desire, dreaming of being worth a thousand men in battle,” Sabine said, almost licking the spilled ale off the table but stopping herself with a thought—after all, she was of noble blood.

She drank down the ale to ensure it wouldn’t spill when she next hit the table.

“Burp.”

Sabine burped.

It was the consequence of gulping down her drink in one go.

After finishing her burp, Sabine began to speak again.

“Then, the 15 of us are enemies. From then on, we shall become opponents who despise each other!”

Only one can become Lord Polydoro’s wife.

Naturally, we, the 15 royal guard members, were now enemies.

“Die, my once friend.”

They glared at each other.

“But, however! But however! There’s still one more option.”

Sabine tried to calm the royal guards with her words and then made a suggestion.

“Let’s go to Lord Polydoro now and beg him on our knees to take our virginity. That way, our wish to lose our virginity before our first battle might be fulfilled.”

“I hate that idea.”

This was the response from one of the royal guards.

It represented the consensus of everyone except Sabine.

After all, no matter what, they’d get killed by the sweetly cruel Second Princess Valiere for such a proposal.

That was the general agreement.

Anyway, it was time for their first battle.

In this first battle, they had to show their best side to Princess Valiere, the Second Princess, and their future husband (in their fantasies), Lord Polydoro.

So, they decided to pretend to be something they’re not, at least for now.

Whether they could pull it off was another question.

Honestly, even they weren’t sure.

No, the real them might be to Lord Polydoro’s taste.

Harboring such selfish delusions—

The 15 Second Princess’s Royal Guard members concluded their gathering and left the cheap tavern.

※

I have always found my older sister to be a great challenge.

Her beauty contrasts starkly with her eyes’ reptilian glare, paralyzing me whenever she looks my way.

Or so I think it’s not just me.

Even Faust seems uncomfortable around my sister.

“Valiere.”

My sister, Princess Anastasia, the First Princess, spoke.

“What is it, Sister?”

I answered without meeting her gaze.

For some reason, I had been summoned to the First Princess’s private chamber and was sitting silently on a long chair.

Surely, I wouldn’t be killed on the spot.

If she wanted to kill me, she would have done it long ago.

With such thoughts, Valiere couldn’t help but feel jittery.

“I will now teach you the mindset required for your first battle. Listen carefully.”

“Yes.”

The mindset for a first battle?

It was unexpected for my sister to show kindness.

No, it couldn’t be.

As a child, I always ran and hid in our father’s shadow, frightened by my sister’s gaze.

Looking back, I realize that probably only fueled her anger towards me.

I only came to this realization after our father passed away, and our conversations as sisters became less frequent.

“In battle, anything can happen. Information obtained beforehand may be contradictory, and what was true just a few hours ago can prove false. You might think you’re in a safe area at the rear, only to be suddenly attacked by the enemy’s elite forces. —And then,”

My sister muttered as if recalling something with her eyes closed.

“The people you love can die as if it were nothing.”

I remained silent.

My sister lost someone she loved?

I had thought that the only person she loved in this world was our father.

“Valiere, do you think my emotions are made of wood or stone? That I loved no one but our father?”

She saw right through my thoughts.

That’s why I dislike talking with my sister.

I nervously asked her a question.

“Sister, have you lost someone you loved on the battlefield?”

“In the Virendorf campaign. 30 elite enemies infiltrated our main camp, and I lost 10 out of 30 talented members of my guard. They were all valuable people who had sworn loyalty to me. …And they were capable individuals.”

Is that what she calls loved ones?

From my sister’s words, I still couldn’t sense any emotion.

Did she love them?

While I had doubts, it was still a valuable tale from someone who had experienced their first battle.

I could hear tales from Faust, too, but his stories from his first battle like “I killed and discarded 20 out of 30 enemy bandits,” sounded more like heroic legends and weren’t helpful.

Then, there were methods of torturing a village chief suspected of connections with the bandits to make him confess.

Not that I wanted such knowledge, but it might be useful this time.

Although serious and straightforward, Faust seemed a bit off in some ways.

“Well, we were able to replace them in the two years following the Virendorf campaign, so it’s fine.”

Ignoring my thoughts, my sister continued.

I still couldn’t feel any emotion from her.

Did my sister ever truly love anyone besides our father?

It’s unclear.

Now, she seems to have her sights set on my advisor, Faust, but for reasons different from mine—perhaps seeing a resemblance to our father.

But surely, she wants him under her command because he’s the kingdom’s strongest knight, “The Knight of Wrath.”

“Valiere.”

She called my name.