Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 99
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- Chapter 99 - How to Solve a Riddle
Walking down the paved road on the way back to the manor, Lord Faust was likely waiting.
Alongside, one could see the people of Polydoro territory returning home from their farm work, their families awaiting them at home.
“One thing. About Vice.”
A riddle given by the Mother Goddess.
I thought about it amidst a tranquil landscape, seemingly unrelated to such topics.
My mother was vice itself.
She had killed countless innocent people.
She was no different than a bandit, in fact, she was worse.
But—
“My mother, Caroline, was originally far from being vicious.”
Everything about this world seemed to frighten her.
Yet, she wanted to be kind to everyone, even those who chose to follow someone like her.
The common soldiers and retainers—my cold grandmother had not allowed even one knight to follow my mother, Caroline, organizing only soldiers from the common people.
They were merely spares.
These soldiers were not the eldest daughters who would inherit the house but were instead the younger sisters, or even younger, deemed expendable.
This was the entire militia drafted for military service in the former Boesel territory.
Yet, this did not oppose the moral duty to protect one’s home.
“Did Mother Caroline and her soldiers rebel to usurp the family headship?”
Everyone might have harbored hatred toward the eldest daughter, the heir who sent them to dangerous military duties, thinking it was vice.
But—they were all kind to me.
It was not the kind of kindness reserved for nobility like Martina but a kindness anyone would show to a small child.
The soldiers, with their rough hands, patted my head roughly.
Mother Caroline watched over this with a wry smile.
They had committed dreadful vices, such as rebelling against the Boesel estate and pillaging the direct territories of the Anhalt Kingdom.
“One thing. About Wealth and Bread.”
Even in Polydoro territory, the Polydoro family was distinctly separated from the rest.
The difference between the knights of the nobility and the working commoners.
Yet, this distinction existed within families too.
The May Festival.
During this ceremony, which celebrated the male god of fertility, the Boesel family, the territorial lords who met only a few times a year, gathered.
My grandmother, my aunt Helga, mother Caroline, and I, Martina.
Ah, yes, there was one more person.
A girl born to my aunt who died soon after.
My grandmother and aunt had hidden this, and my mother believed she was still alive.
This daughter did not appear at the May Festival; instead, a portion of food for her was placed there.
Naturally, the amount of bread and soup for me, a mere spare daughter, was less than that for her.
Recalling my childhood, I doubted whether my mother had glared at that seat with eyes full of hatred.
“I had my suspicions.”
Perhaps my aunt’s child didn’t exist?
Or had she already died?
I had even secretly asked my mother about it once.
Mother Caroline took that question in a bad way.
“Are Mother and Aunt suspecting that I might kill my cousin?”
The reply was that they were hiding her because of suspicions about an assassination by Mother Caroline.
“I am not trusted,” she had muttered sadly.
This is conjecture, but Aunt Helga and Mother Caroline were clearly raised differently.
The eldest daughter would inherit the house and serve as the seed for the next generation.
Others, if there was enough leeway, were given cadet branches, or else returned to the soil as fertilizer.
If even that wasn’t possible, they were to leave the house and die out in the wild.
The Duchess Astarte house, which could become a cadet branch as dukes, was an example of those with considerable power.
Like the people of Polydoro territory, who had to struggle desperately together as a family, represented those in extreme poverty.
If there was a third path for the nobility, it would be to rise to the royal capital and become recognized as legal nobility.
I heard that Prince Consort Robert-sama used to be the gateway for that, but now that route no longer exists.
Well, that’s okay.
The important thing is—
“Mother Caroline never once spoke a word of resentment about it.”
She did resent her circumstances, but she was not the type of person to speak ill of them to me.
Perhaps she did not want to be disliked by her own child.
In a sense, she was a weak person, unable to even show her negative sides to her child.
Wealth and bread are not given equally to everyone.
This frustration was always buried deep inside my mother.
Ah.
It feels tremendously heavy.
But, I must do it.
The Mother of the Cologne Sect had said that the time has come to understand this.
If I love Mother Caroline, I must see it through to the end.
“One thing, about exploring all possible improvements.”
My mother was uneducated.
Yet, it seems she desired even more education for me, her child, precisely because of her own limitations. She knocked on the gates of God and connected with a female priest at the monastery.
I won her favor.
As a child, I craved knowledge and began to understand the ancient language, commonly spoken among the educated, from an early age. She was visibly pleased.
“Faithful Caroline! Your child is the real deal, a true superhuman! A child bestowed with divine intelligence. I will raise this child as if my own life depends on it, no matter what the Boesel family says, I will uphold your plea!”
Her praise went beyond the mere flattering comments often made among nobles; she truly regarded me as superhuman.
The priest performed the odd act of stroking my head.
Why do everyone—soldiers and priests alike—insist on patting my head as if I am a simpleton?
My mother looked at me, seemingly troubled yet pleased.
—Such are the memories of the past.
My mother did everything within her power to foster my intellect.
Perhaps with the desperation of someone like Lord Faust, who prostrated himself on the ground, she pleaded with the priest.
Ah.
My mother was willing to do anything for me.
It pains my heart.
Still, I do not understand what the Mother of the Cologne Sect is trying to convey.
I continue to ponder.
“One thing, about the roots of the Polydoro family.”
Darkness.
Something the Polydoro family and its people do not readily reveal, yet hold as a point of pride.
If anyone mocks it, they might end up dead the next day, their whereabouts unknown.
Such is the unity they feel, stemming from being outcasts.
Earlier, I spoke about the treatment of the eldest daughter and others, about wealth and bread.
In the Polydoro territory, the difference in the food eaten by the Polydoro family and the peasants used to be only in quantity.
And even that quantity would be equally shared with the family in the form of vegetables and fruits brought home when invited to the Polydoro house.
The Polydoro family and its people have lived as one sacred community until now.
My mother, along with her soldiers—who were merely spares—had united in spirit as a community.
As the eldest daughter, I do not understand their hearts.
No, I lied.
They are united in being merely spares, despite the differences between nobility and commoners.
The thoughts continue.
“One thing, about confession.”
Mother must have confessed to the priest as well.
My mother, who could barely read a bit of ancient language, was close to the priest, who boasted the highest intellect and scholarship in our former Boesel territory.
Perhaps my grandmother and aunt lacked a bit in their consideration for the clergy.
My mother gave all the little money she had to the clergy—no, that wasn’t enough.
The amount of money coming from my grandmother and aunt was greater.
Yet, the priest was fond of my mother.
Whenever there was time, the priest would talk to me, locked away in the monastery’s library, and answer my questions.
She would shout that the library was dark! and install stained glass where I read my books.
“God is peering through this stained glass, watching over you,” she would say.
I do not dislike the priest.
Not a single lie.
Such a lie—could I say it even if all my nails were torn out, all my teeth pulled?
Because she died because of me.
In the end, as the priest defended me, hiding me in the monastery, she was killed by the knights of the Boesel estate.
I was locked in the library, and I remember the cries of the priest who died defending its door.
Unforgettable for a lifetime.
“Whoever opens this door, I will curse them with all my soul. If they can kill, let them try to kill.”
The priest shouted that with all the hatred in the world.
I was abducted and about to be hanged when my aunt Helga saved my life.
Ah.
What did my mother confess to the priest?
I think she spoke of many vices and angers to the priest, things she couldn’t even tell her daughter.
I want to know that.
“Ahh.”
Words escape me.
I was about to realize something.
It was clearly foreseeable.
Yet, I must continue.
If this is a test posed by the Cologne Sect, because I involved the priest and caused her death, then I must go on.
I keep walking.
I continue walking down the road to the manor where Lord Faust waits, troubled with thoughts.
“One thing. About breaking the confidentiality of confession.”
Pain arises.
I am on the verge of realizing something.
Of course, the priest did not break her confidentiality towards me.
But I can guess the contents.
The very vice itself, never even spoken to her daughter—anger towards those who exploited her for military service, and even about a rebellion to usurp the family headship.
Hadn’t that close relationship between my mother and the priest involved such conversations?
Because I was hidden away.
Perhaps the priest agreed because the monastery’s library was the safest place.
Without actively grasping a war club like the Cologne Sect, perhaps she passively consented to my mother’s usurpation.
Because.
Because the priest was not the eldest daughter either.
Despite her vast intelligence, she could not escape the reality of not being the legitimate daughter, unable to inherit the family estate.
That’s why she chose the path of the clergy.
As a means to rise, she chose the path of the clergy, giving up on bearing children.
I was dearly loved by the priest.
My mother and the priest were best friends, and for the priest, I was like her own child.
Often, the priest mentioned this.
Ahh.
I am beginning to understand.
The Mother probably knew what had happened in my former territory, the Boesel estate, through some means.
This is allegorical.
Just as the priest and my mother Caroline were best friends and thought of their child as their own.
Just as the Mother and Marianne, Lord Faust’s mother, were best friends and thought of their child as their own.
I am beginning to understand.
The desire of the Cologne Sect’s Mother to breach the confidentiality of confession.
Lord Faust’s desire for her to break that confidentiality and confide everything to me.
I am beginning to understand its meaning.
Everyone was kind.
They didn’t care if they fell to hell themselves, as long as they could save their child.
While crying, I cover my face.
Yet the road remains paved.
The fact that I can choose where to walk is vexing.
“One thing, about what nobody truly wants.”
One thing.
And the last.
I am in tears.
I have come to understand.
I have understood.
I was a terrible person.
I had understood nothing, not a single thing until now.
That everyone involved with me had been protecting me.
I had not understood any of it.
“Mother, it was still okay.”
Perhaps my mother had resigned herself to a life as a spare.
“The soldiers, it was still okay.”
The retainers and people following my mother may have resigned themselves to a life as spares.
“The priest, it was still okay.”
Perhaps the priest had resigned herself to a life of reading and writing as a cleric.
“There was only one foreign element that didn’t belong.”
Me!
Martina von Boesel, the daughter of a second daughter, but who am I as her legitimate heir?
What am I, who was cherished by my mother, the soldiers, and the priest, and recognized by them?
I ask this question.
I am beginning to realize.
The reality of what my being the foreign element brought!
Maybe they could endure it.
Maybe they resigned themselves.
To them, I posed a question.
“Even if it is okay for you,”
Emotions bring turmoil to the heartbeat.
I cannot muster strength in my thighs, my walk becomes unsteady.
My steps head towards the manor.
There, unknowingly and yet fully aware of what had happened to me, I approach Lord Faust.
But perhaps there is no need to ask anymore.
I have realized!
They faced questions because of my existence.
They were tempted by vice.
My self-conscious presence, and this was no mere delusion, could no longer be dismissed.
My mother, the followers, the priest, they were all tempted this way.
“Even if it is okay for you. But what about that child?”
What will become of the entity known as Martina von Boesel?
Is a spare child just a spare after all?
Even if it is okay for you, what about this child?
Your child, the one you patted on the head, will never be able to stand on the stage until death.
Because she is a child of a spare.
She will never be rewarded in her life.
A spare child is nothing but a spare.
Such discriminatory logic.
“Ahh.”
Everyone misunderstood.
With Aunt Helga’s daughter dead, there was no choice but to make me, Martina, the heir of the Boesel family.
Everyone misunderstood without knowing this fact.
You spares are nothing but spares, and you can’t inherit anything, they went mad before such a reality.
It didn’t matter what happened to themselves, but their child faced discrimination!
There was no future for that.
Only the nauseating hatred was tangible in front of me.
“Ahh.”
Even as I cover my face with my hands, tears spill from the tips of my fingers.
I knew.
Everyone didn’t care about themselves, but they were furious about the circumstances of the child in front of them.
Martina von Boesel could not inherit the territory.
Like my mother Caroline and my sickly Aunt Helga, her daughter, a frail daughter, could only follow as a slave of the Boesel family.
She was frightened of that fictitious future.
No matter how capable, a spare child is just a spare, doomed to be kept.
Everyone understood this Martina in front of them.
I killed everyone.
That fact was in front of me.
I.
I should not have been born.
Despite the fact that everyone was enduring their limits as spares, they could have lived a peaceful life.
Setting aside that fact, they usurped the family headship and committed vice, hoping for a happy future.
The person called Martina von Boesel, the reason for such vice.
I should not have been born.
Crying, I make my way to Lord Faust’s location.
At that time, without understanding anything, I desired judgment, I desired beheading.
Once again, I truly wish for that.