Chapter 3
“Your Highness’s words carry logic.”
“Instead of granting the enemy a chance, it would be far wiser to send a large force at once and cut their roots at the source.”
“That seems like a sound idea.”
“This lowly one agrees as well.”
The psychology of the crowd, as the saying goes.
When Jeanne offered a sensible opinion, the courtiers who had been watching in silence now nodded in agreement.
It is difficult to lead, but easy to hide behind the rest and chatter.
“Hmph.”
Jeanne often thought, watching her father, that this was the face of one who possessed the world.
The arrogant, beautiful countenance worthy only of becoming king, the azure hair and long lashes framing eyes of chill silver that mirrored her own.
The king regarded Jeanne with that familiar air of leisure and arrogance. To one who did not know him, the expression revealed nothing of his inner turmoil.
Yet those closest to the king knew full well that his temper was seething.
The king lifted a finger and rapped the arm of his throne twice.
Jeanne had known from the start that he was intelligent, yet the ministers’ nodding approval of a princess’s words rankled her.
But she was only his child—lacking in any real worth compared to him, surviving merely by the name of royalty.
This was the first time the king had fixed his gaze on her face for so long. Jeanne held his stare without flinching.
Then, suddenly, the doors of the council chamber burst open.
Every head in the hall turned toward the entrance.
A breathless courier in military uniform staggered inside.
Jeanne guessed the news he carried and lowered her head with a heart-sickening expression.
A courtier near the door shouted, “What is the meaning of this? It is nothing worth the trouble—mere presumption—”
“Lord Liam has been defeated!”
The moment the words left the courier’s lips, the entire hall froze.
That single sentence was enough to turn everyone to ice.
The news of the Rotinzel invasion had reached them only a week earlier.
At the time Bluisol had still felt at ease; they believed Lord Liam could hold the line with his superior forces.
Liam was a veteran who had fought the barbarians along the northern border and triumphed in every engagement.
Yet he had fallen. Unbelievable.
The king’s former relaxed expression shattered in an instant. He rose, eyes blazing as if he would devour the courier alive.
“Speak more clearly.”
“Lord Liam’s army clashed with the enemy on the Aere Plains, but the enemy’s new weapons rendered the cavalry helpless. Details of the new weapons were not obtained. The army was wiped out or scattered, and Lord Liam himself hurled himself from a cliff.”
The courier’s report was despair itself.
The Aere Plains lay within striking distance of Roire, the capital.
With every available soldier from the city already committed, the enemy’s advance was now inevitable.
The king, who had risen in fury, sat back down slowly, swallowing his rage.
The ministers sat with lips sealed tight as if sucking honey. In the heavy silence no one spoke; all merely watched one another.
Jeanne felt a bitter pang. The very same ministers who had chattered so freely before the crisis now stood mute the moment it erupted.
Though she had not been present in her previous life, she could guess what had been said here.
‘The timing was simply wrong. Even if the king had listened to me, the outcome would be irreversible. What matters now is the next step—how to block the army marching on the capital.’
Jeanne pondered furiously.
While she did so, the king’s quiet, icy voice cut through the hall like a blade.
“The ministers of a kingdom sit with mouths sealed in its hour of crisis. Are you trying to make me the leader of the incompetent?”
“……”
“What were you doing to allow this outcome?”
“Forgive me.”
The king’s face twisted further.
He had once proposed increasing military strength in preparation for the Rotinzel invasion, yet the king himself had ignored that advice.
No one large enough to criticize him existed.
“I will abandon the capital.”
The word fell like a stone.
The atmosphere in the hall grew even more charged.
Abandoning the capital meant fleeing the city to some other refuge.
Something no true ruler should ever consider.
Yet no one dared speak against it; all merely scanned one another’s faces.
‘Even after living again, you have changed not a whit, Father… Your Highness.’
A cold, private smile touched Jeanne’s lips.
She collected herself and stepped forward once more.
The king’s eyes turned toward her—cold, piercing.
But Jeanne stood firm and met that gaze head-on.
She was no longer the girl who had trembled beneath the heavy burden placed upon her.
“There is still time. We can hold the enemy at Rayfe.”
“Enough.”
The king cut her off.
“It is not a matter for one who knows nothing to meddle in.”
Jeanne clenched her fists secretly.
In the midst of her frustration, a familiar voice spoke.
Jeanne turned.
There stood the one ally she had been seeking. Relief flooded her.
Divine Dragopoly—once in her previous life, the man who had recommended her as the king’s successor.
His most loyal subject, who had spared no effort to turn her into king.
He stepped forward now, though he had remained silent until then.
“A ruler must carry weight in every action, for he is revered by the masses. Every word must be weighed with gravity. At a time when the kingdom still possesses armies to fight, it is not the moment to speak of abandoning the capital.”
Divine Dragopoly was twenty-seven, Foreign Minister, a commoner-born youth who had risen to the highest office of his department in five years despite his youth.
Perhaps the blood of youth still coursed through him, or perhaps the pure ambition of a man who loved his country.
Even before the king, he could speak truth.
“As the Foreign Minister says, the ruler shoulders the heaviest burden. To place oneself before the oncoming enemy is to gamble the nation’s fate.”
“Then you would have the king abandon his people?”
“Abandon? The king is the kingdom, and the kingdom is the king. If that is the case, then Divine’s loyalty would mean abandoning the monarch to the palace under siege by an enemy wielding a blade?”
The king showed no intention of yielding an inch.
He believed himself the sole master of this land; the people existed only for him.
Therefore, securing his own safety came first. The invasion was the fault of the lower classes’ incompetence, he believed.
Even the loyalty of Divine had been sneered at.
The Finance Minister Gaspard, who had been silent all this time, added his voice.
“Your Highness is correct. One who stands still in the face of a storm is foolish. It is wiser to take shelter for a moment, then move again.”
The king nodded in satisfaction at Gaspard’s words.
“Moreover, there is precedent. Destroyed cities can be rebuilt, fallen buildings raised anew. Since the king is the kingdom and the kingdom is the king, only the king’s body must remain safe to restore order. I agree with Your Highness’s judgment.”
“As expected, the Finance Minister understands my mind best. If anyone has another opinion, speak it.”
If anyone dared contradict the king now, they would have to doubt whether they possessed more than one life.
Even in wartime, royal authority was absolute.
Jeanne seethed, yet found no outlet; she only tormented her lower lip.
War had already begun; what could she do in this moment?
Even swaying the king’s heart seemed impossible; helplessness washed over her.
‘No. The war has just begun. Six years of conflict means Bluisol still possessed the strength to fight. To surrender now would be foolish.’
Jeanne lifted her head once more.
If she yielded here, she would meet the same ending as her previous life.
She swept her gaze across the assembled ministers.
Some avoided her eyes, as though sensing they were being reproached. Others wore displeased expressions.
Then Jeanne’s gaze stopped at one place.
Divine, meeting her eyes, offered a faint smile.
Jeanne nodded and turned back to the king.
She loved Bluisol, its people, and especially those who had sacrificed for it more than anything.
“I apologize. Since Your Highness intends to leave Roire, it would be improper for a minister to add further words here. I shall also obey Your Highness’s will.”
Jeanne took one step back.
In politics, to obtain one thing one must relinquish another.
Jeanne placed the king’s flight on one side of the scales by declaring she would still fight.
Now the opposing side must be weighted.
A kind of trade.
“If Your Highness departs, I shall remain here. I will accept the people’s resentment and the enemy’s gaze in Your Highness’s stead.”
Jeanne drew a breath and turned every eye in the hall to her words.
“Please grant me command of the Second Knight Order and the right to the heir’s position.”
A heavy silence fell.
Many drew in sharp breaths.
Those who had been stunned now snapped to attention, eyes widening.
The heir’s position. This was a direct challenge to royal power.
The hall filled with tension; ministers exchanged wary glances.
In the simmering room, only Jeanne maintained perfect calm and spoke.
“Then I shall be Your Highness’s sword.”
A soft chuckle escaped the king—something unexpected. The ministers bowed their heads, holding their breath as they watched the tense exchange between king and princess.
Above all, they waited to see what the king would say next.
“My sword? You, of all people?”
“Yes. Would Your Highness not be curious to know just how sharp a blade I can become?”
Interest flickered in the king’s eyes.
“Command of the Second Knight Order…”
The heir’s position, deliberately excluded.
It was the same as the seasoned politician before them declaring the issue off the table.
Jeanne had guessed his meaning and chose not to press the point.
What mattered now was the knight order—the true power of the blade.
Bluisol possessed three knight orders.
The Third protected the northern border; Liam’s main force had been from that order.
The First was the king’s personal guard, composed of elite soldiers.
The Second was the real fighting force—the knight order whose members were battle-hardened.
The former captain, Fabian, had retired, and Night Diego now held the office of Second Knight Order.
Unlike the First, which required noble birth, experience, fame, and deeds for its captain, the Second chose its leader solely by merit.
“You know the Second Knight Order does not listen to the king’s commands either, do you not?”
The king asked with a mocking tone.
Since the founding king Charlemagne, the Second Knight Order had maintained its own traditions.
One of them was the selection of captain: knights must demonstrate skill before their peers and win their recognition.
In the eyes of that arrogance, Jeanne answered without fear.
“If I were not capable, I would not have spoken.”
A free smile finally curved Jeanne’s lips for the first time.