The Regressed Princess - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Vows

“Eleanor, I will hold a grand wedding for you…”

“Eleanor, I will hold a grand wedding for you.”

That was a promise made in their youth, and Andra was serious. She always fulfilled every commitment with absolute gravity, accumulating her own “credit” piece by piece.

Andra didn’t like repeating herself, but this specific promise… she repeated it exactly three times.

The first time was in a garden overflowing with blossoms. A teenage girl tossed her sword into the grass, selected the most beautiful flowers, carefully plucked away every tiny thorn, and wove a magnificent flower crown for her noble princess.

The second time was in a cramped granary within their small fiefdom. At the time, Eleanor was working day and night with craftsmen to research a threshing machine. In her past life, she had only seen videos of handmade models and had no concrete engineering concept; she could only lead the craftsmen through trial and error based on existing tools and basic physics.

Andra, meanwhile, was responsible for leading the security patrol to sweep away bandits and beasts near the territory. One evening, Andra walked into the granary dragging a snow-white tiger pelt. She took the little princess’s splinter-pricked fingers into her hands and gently licked the wounds on her fingertips. “Eleanor, I will definitely give you a grand wedding,” the girl’s eyes sparked with fire.

The third time was in a palace they had just conquered. Blood dripped from her blade into the dust as Andra sat upon the throne for the first time, pulling her lover into her embrace. Nuzzling against her, she whispered into her ear: “Soon. That grand wedding… everyone will come to celebrate!”

Andra successfully fulfilled that promise two years after crowning herself King, thanks in no small part to Eleanor’s contributions. The King and Queen walked hand-in-hand; the “cards” they played together ensured that potential dissenters dared not raise their heads. No one could shake a well-fed army or the people standing behind them; no one dared face the King’s sharp blade or the Queen’s all-seeing gaze.

Hetuya gradually stabilized, and the grand wedding opened the curtain on an era of prosperity. For decades to come, countless people would recount the splendor of that day to their families, friends, and passing strangers. Everyone—regardless of status or affiliation—boiled with excitement amidst the sea of flowers and the open-air banquets.

What kind of person could be worthy of the Great Anya? Naturally, it was—

The palace gates slowly opened, and a flower carriage draped in bells rolled forward to meet the war chariot. The two vehicles met in the center of the bustling marketplace. Every citizen had heard Eleanor’s name. This “Angie” possessed a noble birth and a distinguished reputation, using her seemingly divine wisdom and foresight to create many useful and interesting things for the populace.

Reputation is a beauty’s priceless jewelry, but on the wedding day, what most convinced the spectators was her soul-stirring… beauty?

Angie’s veil billowed in the morning breeze. She possessed a face of pure grace and skin as smooth as milk; one could imagine a sweet fragrance without even drawing near. Her eyes were clear and bright; if a single candle flickered within them, they would surely ignite like shimmering stars.

But beauty has its limits, and Hetuya was not short on beauties—pampered noble daughters, commoner beauties kissed by the Goddess of Beauty, socialites skilled in adornment. They each had their own allure.

Before Eleanor appeared, many had stared dazed at the god-like, handsome Anya, dreaming that they too could put on beautiful dresses, apply meticulously drawn makeup, and stand on a flower carriage to receive the King’s powerful embrace.

But when the flower carriage slowed to a stop and the attendants on both sides lifted the white gauze to reveal the happiest Daughter of Lilia, those restless hearts grew still.

She had eyes that were focused, confident, and exceptionally bright. The way she looked at the King was exactly how the King gazed at her. There was only each other in their eyes, like a pair of birds sharing a single set of wings to become one with their lover. Not a single crack could be found in their transparent emotion.

“Angie—” “Princess Eleanor—”

The surrounding waves of sound swept over them like a tsunami. Eleanor stood on her tiptoes to step onto the flower-strewn war chariot. Two hands caught her body steadily, and her lover whispered firmly in her ear:

“The gods above as witness, I Andra hereby swear, whether it be ten years, twenty years, fifty years, or a hundred… I will surely ensure that you Eleanor keep your smile forever and live a life of happiness.”

Clang.

A silver fork slipped from Eleanor’s hand. The people around her didn’t pause for a second, continuing to chat and laugh as if they hadn’t heard a thing. Eleanor picked up the fork and continued to sift through the memories of the past.

Andra… Andra, do you still remember your vow? Or is it that…

She looked up at the youthful, beautiful servants of the Goddess of Love, their bell-like voices ringing in her ears. They were complimenting her simple attire and elegant bracelet, skillfully pivoting the conversation toward festivals and hunting—Ah, our King is as handsome as a God of War. Everyone remembers how she killed that rampaging giant beast with a single sword stroke during a hunt.

Everyone did their best to mention Andra, as if by speaking of that peerless, handsome King, the gentle Queen before them would sink into memory and reawaken her soft heart.

“Perhaps Andra hasn’t forgotten her vow. She simply feels—”

She, like everyone else around me, thinks I am very happy.

This time, Eleanor echoed the voice in her heart. She set down her fork, signaling that she was full. Everyone rose at the right moment, naturally clearing the utensils and tables.

A dignified woman wearing a pale yellow priestess robe reminding Eleanor of the Eldest Princess stepped forward to take her arm. “Do you still remember me? Angie.” The priestess stopped slightly in front of Eleanor, looking at her expectantly.

Eleanor studied her carefully and then shook her head. She could tell from the priestess’s features that she was a typical Hetuyan, but she had no specific memory of this face.

The priestess wasn’t offended. She happily assisted Eleanor up the stairs, laughing, “Haha, of course you wouldn’t remember. There were at least a hundred children like me in the orphanage. When we heard Angie was coming to visit us, we were truly driven mad with joy…”

Orphanage… Eleanor paused on the stairs.

The orphanage was a public welfare facility pushed forward by both her and Andra, nominally symbolizing the mercy of the royalty and nobility. Initially, its implementation was very difficult not because the nobles were unwilling to donate, but because they lacked the personnel to implement things at the grassroots level.

Even the most compassionate and radical Hetuyan nobles understood raising orphans only as “giving them a bite to eat so they can become our loyal slaves when they grow up.” To say nothing of the common people who lived meal-to-meal without education.

But Eleanor refused to back down. Years of war had produced a massive number of orphans. Whether in Hetuya, its allies, or enemy nations, children shorter than a wagon wheel were everywhere. They died on the roads like wild ducks, remembering no past and having no future.

So she traveled everywhere to lobby and raise funds half-coercing, half-kidnapping. she made the nobles offer up their daughters to serve as “laborers,” weaving a spiral of mutual supervision using land inheritance rights and political resources as leverage. Even then, many only gave lip service; she had to personally travel by carriage between major cities to prevent those gold coins and lives from falling into another abyss.

As a Queen, such a course of action was naturally considered willful and inappropriate. Her behavior initially stirred a considerable wave of opposition.

…It was Andra who used sword and blood to teach the dissenters to keep their mouths shut.

Sweetness and resentment churned together, mixing into a bitterness more potent than coffee. Eleanor stood on the steps, feeling as though she were looking down into a bottomless chasm.

Later… later, some of those sharp improvements solidified into a new order, but many more slowly compromised. Because Andra’s army needed ample provisions and the best equipment. Only by giving a share of the newly baked cake to the strongest and smartest people would they be willing to continue supporting her and maintaining domestic stability.

The priestess didn’t know the Queen’s thoughts; she was only happy to see the look of realization on her face. “Angie…” She leaned in to say more, only to see a single tear slowly fall down Eleanor’s cheek.

“In all these years… what have I actually… accomplished?”

The woman full of wisdom and mercy, who in the priestess’s memory always possessed infinite vitality and power, now had pale cheeks and trembling lips.

“I… what I achieved… was only this much. I could have… I could have saved so many more.”

Eleanor bent over in pain, her trembling hands pressed together like a farmer holding a pile of falling ears of wheat. “I don’t even know if those children are living well. I haven’t gone to see them in over twenty years…”

“Angie!” The priestess hurriedly hugged Eleanor’s shoulders, comforting her repeatedly. “Don’t worry, we are all doing well. The mothers at the orphanage are all wonderful!”

Is that true? Eleanor could only nod, unable to make a sound.

Night arrived as scheduled. Eleanor lay in the most comfortable room in the temple, letting the faint incense envelop her. The sound of light footsteps rang twice by the bed that was Manju making noise on purpose to signal she was guarding nearby.

The loyal guard stayed outside the curtains. Eleanor lay on her back, and as soon as she closed her eyes, messy fragments flooded her mind.

What have I done these past few decades? With the help of craftsmen and scholars, I reproduced some tools and technologies from my original world, and then—then there was nothing else.

I did increase the productivity of this era. But I started out wholeheartedly in love, then got caught in endless wars and compromises, and finally collapsed in a sickbed.

“What exactly did you come here to do?”

What have I actually done?

Eleanor painfully clutched her heart, trying to remember the wish she had when she first transmigrated. But aside from Andra’s looming figure, she could remember nothing.

Andra… Andra.

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