The Weight of a Crown
After the sparring match, Jeanne spent time getting to know the members of the 2nd Knight Order she would soon lead.
From her perspective, most of their faces were already familiar—save for a few—but to them, she was still a stranger.
Some showed goodwill toward the newly appointed commander, while others adopted a wait-and-see attitude. A few openly displayed their displeasure.
Jeanne paid it little mind.
Ethan, Nael, Ines, Lucas. They all look exactly as I remember them.
She offered the faintest of smiles as she observed the knights who, in her previous life, had grown close to her yet now regarded her with clear wariness.
She knew the character of the 2nd Knight Order all too well.
They were the kind who would follow her of their own accord—once she proved her true strength.
The day passed far too quickly.
There was so much to do, and so little time.
Though she had not even been back a full day since her regression, the thought that the enemy was already at the gates filled her with restless urgency.
Deep in thought as she studied a map late into the night, Jeanne looked up when Fabian brought her a cup of tea.
“I have always believed composure to be Your Highness’s greatest virtue.”
“Ah, Fabian. What are you still doing here at this hour? You should retire.”
“As Your Highness’s guard knight, is it not only natural that I remain at your side?”
He had set aside the fierce demeanor of the warrior who once dominated battlefields and now treated her with the warm attentiveness of a devoted butler.
Jeanne pressed firmly at her temples before taking a sip of the tea.
Fabian then reached into his coat and produced something.
“It may already be too late, but I would still like you to accept this before the day is truly over.”
“What is it?”
“The day has passed. Since today is one that should be celebrated, I thought even someone like me ought to offer a gift.”
It was Fabian’s present for Jeanne, who had completely forgotten that this was her birthday.
“This is…”
“Autclair. Though we could not hold a proper celebration, I hope this brings Your Highness even a little joy.”
What Fabian handed her was a short sword, slightly shorter than the length of her forearm.
Jeanne ran her fingers over Autclair again and again, as if it were a cherished keepsake.
“I will treasure it.”
“Autclair would prefer to be used rather than displayed in a cabinet.”
“Isn’t that obvious? The war has already begun. I can hardly afford to idly collect trinkets.”
“Did you not just say you would treasure it?”
“I meant I would use it with care. It would be a waste to let a famous blade sit idle.”
Jeanne smiled faintly as she spoke.
In truth, she had relied heavily on Autclair while fighting enemies on the battlefield in her previous life.
Though too short to serve as her primary weapon, as a secondary arm it had no equal.
“Now I understand why Your Highness is in such haste. With the enemy so close, it is only natural. However, you must not lose the virtues that define you.”
“I will keep that in mind. And…”
Jeanne drew the short sword from its sheath and examined its edge.
As expected of a weapon crafted by a renowned artisan, the silver blade gleamed with lethal sharpness.
“Thank you.”
Before dawn, the sky was thick with dark clouds that even hid the starlight.
Yet the air remained oppressively humid and heavy, pressing down on everyone.
The king had summoned his people at such an early hour because he wished to flee the capital—where the enemy was approaching—as quickly as possible.
“Jeanne Claretmer de Roire, in my stead, you shall remain here in Roire. Comfort the people, steady their hearts, and gather the forces from every region to stand as their center.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Jeanne bowed her head respectfully. Her ash-blue hair swayed as it fell forward.
The king’s gaze upon her was cold, as if regarding an object rather than a person.
But he had always looked at her that way, so no one found it strange.
Having delivered his instructions to the commander of the kingdom’s knight order, Philippe VII turned away as though his business were finished.
The king never once mentioned the matter of succession.
Yet Jeanne welcomed that silence.
It gave her the certainty that she could change the future through her own actions.
How ironic. When I didn’t want it, he forced the position on me. Now that I ask for it, he refuses to let go.
In the original timeline, the king had temporarily thrust the role of successor upon Jeanne.
It was meant to turn her into a shield that would protect him.
He had been able to hand over the title so casually back then because she had seemed strong in responsibility yet devoid of personal ambition.
But now, Jeanne had been the one to request the position of successor first.
And the current king, Philippe VII—whose lust for power ran deep—had refused to grant it to her.
Which means he will have to bear every responsibility alone.
For Jeanne, that was all the better.
The king climbed into the carriage that had been prepared for him.
As many accompanied him as had already fled ahead.
The carriages carrying the royal family moved first, followed by the maids who served them and the high and low officials who would share the road of exile.
They departed before dawn both to escape faster and to avoid letting the citizens witness their flight.
The carriages moved through the darkness.
From atop the castle wall, Jeanne watched them until the very end, her hand resting on the pommel of the sword at her waist.
“What a pathetic sight.”
Her low, chilly voice melted into the predawn air.
Rushing away in fear that the people might learn they had abandoned them—how laughable.
She had seen this scene in her previous life, yet witnessing it again only made it seem even more ridiculous.
“Still… I hope you survive until the end of this war, Father.”
As his daughter, she did not wish to see him die at the enemy’s hands. Her hatred had not vanished, but her feelings were complicated.
Once the people had left, the castle felt hollow and empty.
Jeanne gathered those who remained in Roire.
In truth, aside from the 2nd Knight Order, nearly everyone had already departed or was in the process of leaving. Yet one very familiar figure approached her.
“As expected, you stayed behind, Divine.”
“If I do not remain, who else would stay at Your Highness’s side?”
“Call me 2nd Knight Order Commander. Or simply Commander if that is too long.”
“Even if they call you commander, you are not my commander. As a subject, the only one I can serve is the king. Isn’t that right?”
Divine spoke with a bright, cheerful smile. Jeanne shot him a glare.
His irritating personality remained exactly the same in this life as it had been in the last.
Suppressing her irritation, Jeanne said,
“Then why don’t you go to the king right now?”
“My king is right here. Why would you tell me to go elsewhere?”
Jeanne stared at him intently.
“Those words are rather dangerous, don’t you think?”
“There is no one listening but the two of us and Sir Fabian, is there? Since it clearly isn’t me or Sir Fabian, are you saying you intend to report me to His Majesty?”
It was always like this.
She wondered if he had truly earned the position of youngest-ever Minister of Foreign Affairs through dice games, because his skill at leaving his opponents speechless was truly masterful.
Jeanne let out a sigh.
Yet deep down, she was grateful that Divine had come to her side once again in this life.
In her previous existence, before she had been sent to Rotinzel, Divine had offered to commit treason with her.
Jeanne had refused his proposal to raise a rebellion.
She could not drag the people—already exhausted by war—into yet another civil conflict.
Because of that refusal, she had been sent to the enemy nation by the king and ultimately burned at the stake. Even so, she did not regret that decision itself.
She had learned that regretting the past was a foolish thing.
And the one who had taught her that was none other than Divine.
Therefore, Jeanne would simply change the future that was yet to come.
The only reason she refrained from thanking him for coming to her again was that she had no desire to watch his already high nose grow even higher with smug satisfaction.
Jeanne scraped together every soldier still left in the capital.
She summoned Matteo, the captain of the capital defense force, and asked,
“How many are there?”
“Fewer than two hundred in total.”
“Two hundred, then.”
Even counting the freshly enlisted recruits, the troops remaining in Roire barely reached that number.
Most of the soldiers originally stationed to protect the capital had been sent to support Liam and subsequently annihilated. Some had followed the king.
Of those left behind, many had fled, and what remained was the current count.
Divine asked her,
“What do you plan to do from here?”
“It is already too late to head for Leipro. Our military strength is far too small.”
“Hmm?”
“You already know the answer, yet you make that face anyway. Are you testing me?”
Divine gave a good-natured smile and shrugged.
“I will ask again. If it were you, Divine, what strategy would you devise?”
“If it were me, I would abandon this city of Roire.”
“Why?”
“Roire is not suitable as a fortress. Therefore, it is not a good place to fight the enemy. As the capital of a nation, it must be accessible from everywhere, so its transportation is excellent. And because many people must live here, it is vast. In other words, there are many routes through which the enemy can enter.”
It lacked high, sturdy walls, nor was it situated in the mountains where the terrain could be used to advantage.
In short, it was not a location suited for defense.
“Compared to that, our forces are woefully insufficient. Two hundred soldiers and twenty knights.”
“Twenty-two. Including myself and Fabian.”
“In any case, the numbers remain small. We are hopelessly outnumbered to fight the enemy head-on. Rather than sacrificing soldiers pointlessly here, my judgment is that it would be better to preserve our forces as much as possible and join the troops at Ileang Castle.”
Jeanne nodded.
In her previous life, Divine had offered the same opinion, and she had followed it.
But could she afford to do the same this time?
Jeanne lowered her gaze.
I am sorry. My apology as nothing more than this one princess will never be enough, but on behalf of everyone who abandoned you, I offer my deepest remorse.
In her last life, Jeanne had knelt before the people in place of the king who had fled and begged for their forgiveness.
A member of the royal family had even used honorifics toward those of far lower status.
Yet a single apology from a mere princess had not been enough to quell their rage. The citizens had stepped over her prostrate form and stormed the palace.
If Jeanne left the capital now, she would be no different from the king—someone who had forsaken her own people.
That will not happen again.
Jeanne lifted her head, her eyes filled with resolve.
“I will remain in Roire.”
“What? But—”
“The 2nd Knight Order will stay with me.”
Diego, who had approached at some point, shouted boldly,
“Of course! What kind of knight order would we be if we did not stand with our commander!”
Divine ignored Diego entirely and stared straight at Jeanne.
The eyes that had shown nothing but leisure and gentleness until now had turned icy cold.
“To fight a battle that is clearly destined for defeat is nothing but foolishness.”
“Haha, someone who has only studied at a desk may not understand, but sometimes even when you know you will lose…”
“Would you kindly shut up?”
At the unexpected intensity Divine displayed, Diego flinched despite himself.
“W-why are you suddenly raising your voice like that?”
“The fate of the nation is at stake. This is no time to speak of mere romance.”
“Well… I’m not saying I want us to lose, either.”
Knights were, at minimum, taught basic tactics.
Even so, there were occasionally those whose martial prowess was high but whose intellect was lacking. Diego was one such man.
Realizing he had no place in this conversation, he quietly withdrew.
Jeanne met Divine’s sharp gaze head-on.
Their eyes clashed like blades crossing, sharp and unyielding.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of losing. Or rather, I have no intention of fighting the enemy at all.”
Jeanne had a different objective in mind.