The Regressed Princess - Chapter 60

Chapter 60: The Future in Your Eyes; As For the Matter of Killing You, I Will Not Regret…

The sun at nine or ten in the morning felt warm on the skin, draping the entire street in a hazy glow.

Andra and Eleanor strolled along the main thoroughfare. The flagstone path beneath their feet was neither particularly clean nor very dirty. After all, there was no industrial wastewater in this era, and citizens did not have packaging bags or surplus food cluttering their homes. The only concern regarding “fertilizer” was minimized because noble carriages passed frequently, so it rarely appeared right at one’s doorstep.

Even so, Eleanor occasionally noticed suspicious stains in the corners of alleys. The agricultural level of the Moon Mist Continent still left much to be desired; people had only a partial understanding of the power of fertilizer. In many places, composting was unknown; people simply knew through experience that “crops grow better where humans and animals have lived.” Thus, waste collection was still a form of forced labor imposed by city lords or ministers, and citizens had to pay an extra tax to “invite” someone to take it away.

Eleanor pondered how to push forward new planting methods in this life as quickly as possible. It would be best to start from the capital and spread outward. Eva wasn’t stupid; as long as…

“Highness, are you looking at that flower?”

Andra’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Eleanor looked up and happened to see a cluster of particularly vibrant blossoms.

It was “Mandragora.”

Because the flowers were bright, beautiful, and easy to keep alive, Nolannans often brought them out of the forest to plant in gardens and on balconies. The owner of this house was likely a minor noble in good economic standing; the courtyard was filled with multi-colored blooms.

Andra naturally reached out toward the flower, a silver coin already between her fingers, clearly intending to make a trade.

“No need, Andra. I don’t particularly like this flower,” Eleanor declined in a low voice.

The youth withdrew her hand, blinking in surprise. “Highness, don’t you have quite a few planted in your own flowerpots?”

“Those were planted for Mother. Mother likes flowers very much.” Eleanor continued walking forward without looking back. Andra didn’t dwell on the matter, briskly retracting her hand to follow the Princess.

It was quiet behind them; few people would target two children like this. Walking beside them was a burly palace slave: she was only a head shorter than the “little giant” from Salin and possessed staggering physical skill. She was a “dead-soldier” specifically trained to protect the royalty; though she appeared to be helping carry items, two iron hammers hung beneath her cloak.

As for Manju and Thorns, they stayed further back, watching their silhouettes from a distance according to the Princess’s orders. Even though the surroundings were safe, Andra remained on high alert, carefully watching the ground and the path ahead, sandwiching Eleanor between herself and the tall guard.

As they walked, she finally saw the luxurious marketplace within the city and let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Lily, we’re here.”

Andra called out the Princess’s “alias” with practiced ease. She was quite familiar with this most extravagant market in Nolanna; one of her subordinates even ran a shop inside.

From the outside in, the marketplace was filled with entertainment and games. The Princess was still too young to enter many of the venues, but there were many cute small animals and some standard song-and-dance performances… the air was already thick with the scent of heavy incense.

However, Eleanor merely took one look at the luxury where gems were used even in daylight to reflect sunlight and create “lantern fire” and shook her head with lack of interest. The opulence failed to leave a single spark in her eyes.

“Not here. The one near the outskirts.”

The outskirts? Andra immediately realized the Princess wanted to purchase combat slaves. Her subordinates had gathered intelligence on this; several slave legions were stationed outside the city. Among them was an old fellow called “Scar-eye” who used to be quite active at the border; he might be worth trying to win over.

Slave legions… Andra’s eyes flickered. She liked such legions, though such things in Hetuya… existed, yet didn’t.

They “existed” because the King of Hetuya and the tribal chiefs did indeed own vast numbers of slaves; grouping them together could technically form several legions. But Hetuyan slaves were generally not outsiders, and certainly not foreigners who came looking for a living. Who would come to Hetuya to seek a life? Their slaves were mostly members of defeated tribes: they might have cooperated in the previous hunting season, only to become master and slave in the next.

This was also the reason “Hetuya has no slave legions.” These slaves actually occupied a status somewhere between slave and freeman. If they weren’t sent to war, they might work in their respective tribes for decades; eventually, their descendants would have their bloodlines blurred through intermarriage with the “master” tribe.

But once sent to war, they could quickly reclaim glory and freedom. According to Hetuyan tradition, a victorious warrior was naturally free. As for defeat… the defeated were either dead or taken by foreigners; they wouldn’t be one’s own slaves anymore!

Andra compared the differences in her mind and concluded: if one wanted to buy slaves, it was better to do so here in Nolanna. These combat slaves were trained from childhood and knew nothing of production; they had no means of survival once they left their masters. In a sense, they were even more loyal than the warriors of Hetuya.

“Andra. Hurry, hurry.”

“Coming.”

She looked up. The little Princess had already waved down a carriage for hire and climbed in with the guard.

Andra boarded the carriage, and the wheels began to roll. In the jolting vehicle, she looked at Eleanor’s profile and was suddenly struck by a thought: The little Princess usually rarely goes out, right? And she sounds so curious about the lives of commoners. Then why… does she not look out the window even once now?

Eleanor, naturally, did not know what Andra was thinking. She kept her eyes closed, conserving her energy for the major task ahead. After a long silence, she spoke slowly: “Andra, if someone gave you a slave legion, what would you do with it?”

“Put them to war, of course.”

Andra’s lips moved instinctively. Buying a slave legion had no other purpose. She needed a squad that didn’t fear death to carve out a brand-new future with her. Generally speaking, a Royal Daughter sent to another country as a hostage basically meant her future was ruined. The exchange of hostages between two nations or a unilateral sending of one was an act of diplomatic goodwill; no one would send away a truly cherished Royal Daughter.

Whether she was the youngest daughter or whether her mother was in her prime, the fact that her mother had done this meant that her mother intended to have another child within a few years.

Thinking of this, Andra’s spirits rose. The little Princess wouldn’t ask aimless questions; asking this on the carriage likely represented a hint. A hostage Princess seemed to have many choices, and in extreme cases, it wasn’t impossible for one to return to her home country and inherit the throne.

But considering Aguño still had a long life ahead of her, the best path for Andra in the next twenty years was either marrying Eleanor or obtaining a certain level of power within the Nolanna court. These two were not mutually exclusive; they complemented each other. If she became Eleanor’s Prince Consort, she could use the Princess’s banner to establish a guard and rule one or even several territories as the Princess’s proxy.

Andra had great confidence in her own abilities. Even if the Princess’s Guard didn’t fully obey her in the future, she was certain she could use one or two initial legions to slowly encroach upon peripheral city-states, first expanding her wife’s territory, and then.

Andra cleared her thoughts in an instant and placed her hands on her legs, saying very gently: “Highness, I am your Guardian Knight. Your territory is also a place I should protect. If I had a legion, my priority would naturally be to guard your lands.”

Hearing her answer, the little Princess smiled, moved.

Haha, Andra indeed gave an answer very similar to the one in the first life.

It wasn’t a lie. The Andra of the first life had fully honored this promise… they had no other choice back then.

After smiling, the little Princess fell silent for a while. She looked at the carriage window and said quietly, “And what about after that? I am curious about what happens next.”

After?

Andra did not treat the question perfunctorily just because the Princess was young. She answered seriously: “I would lead them to continuous victory. Whether suppressing bandits or hunting, I would bring the wealth and the hides and bones of the prey back to the city to reward them according to their merit.”

At this point, she seemed finally to realize that the slave legion would nominally still belong to the Princess, so she added quickly: “Of course, how those spoils are ultimately distributed would be up to you, Highness.”

Well said.

Eleanor sighed inwardly. She believed the youth’s sincerity at this moment, because Andra had spent a lifetime practicing this cycle. However, there was one thing that she, Andra… and even everyone around them knew: a leader is called a leader because she can lead everyone to victory.

Whether it was the Eleanor of the last life, the life before that, this life, or the future… as long as she handed the army to Andra, the leader recognized by that army would only ever be Andra. Andra was practically the incarnation of the Goddess of Victory; no warrior could help but adore her. Even those who harbored resentment toward Andra would, if forced by fate to share a battlefield with her, become her devoted followers in a very short time.

Even I was deeply drawn to her.

Eleanor sighed softly in her heart. Had she herself not had her heart stolen by this girl who was like a Goddess of War? She hated war and disliked killing. But whenever Andra finished slaughtering a terrifying enemy and returned safely to her side to open her powerful arms, she couldn’t help but want to turn into a small bird and nestle in her lover’s embrace forever… and ever…

Forget Andra even a mediocre leader like Miscella had her own core group.

I too must possess a legion that is loyal only to me. The numbers in the Princess’s Guard are still not enough.

A brand-new seed was planted in Eleanor’s heart.

She raised her eyes and continued to ask: “And then? After the spoils are distributed… would you do anything else?”

Then? There’s an “after”?

If anyone else had pressed this question, Andra would have certainly taken it as a provocation. But Eleanor’s gaze was so earnest; she clearly really wanted to know what she would have the legion do after the rewards were given.

What comes after the distribution of spoils is naturally… attacking the next city.

Andra continued to follow her train of thought. If she owned a slave legion, she would certainly sustain the war through more war, attacking only cities wealthy enough, then distributing a portion of the spoils to boost morale while using the majority to buy new slaves. As long as she won enough, this cycle would make her legion grow ever larger.

Andra opened her mouth, wanting to tell these truths to the little Princess. But she instinctively sensed that Eleanor did not want to hear that answer.

So, Andra changed her tone and asked curiously: “Your Highness, what would you have a legion do? I would make sure they trained well in their spare time.”

This sentence appeared to answer the previous question, but it didn’t; instead, she was waiting for the other’s answer.

Eleanor smiled with relief in her heart: Andra… you aren’t as good at faking as you were in the first life. After all, you haven’t grown up yet.

The little Princess looked up and gave the person beside her an answer that sounded like a sigh: “After fighting for so long, people eventually want to go home.”

Oh~ So the little Princess wanted to discuss how to treat veterans well.

Andra followed her lead and said: “That is for certain. I would promote some battle-hardened veterans, giving them the status of freemen or even nobles. For those soldiers who aren’t particularly capable, as long as they have followed me long enough and never betrayed me, I would allot them slaves and manors.”

Eleanor nodded and stopped speaking.

There was no need to ask further. The Andra of now… and perhaps the Andra of the future, would not give any other answer. In her eyes, whether slaves, nobles, or commoners, they were all just tools. Andra did not care for the desires or thoughts of the tools; any measure she took was only to obtain better tools or to make the tools she had more efficient.

“Eleanor, thank you.” The lover of the first life had gripped her waist tightly, her voice full of joy. “You actually researched such high-yield crops. Ha… and medicine. With those medicines, casualties will be more controllable.”

The handsome King had laughed heartily under the moonlight. She said: “They are truly lucky to be able to follow me in unifying this continent during their lifetime!”

The virtuous “Angie” allowed the earth to grow endless seedlings. The sweat of the elderly, children, and livestock fell bit by bit upon the land; the seasons rotated, and the grain was stored in granaries.

The great “Anya” led the various tribes of Hetuya along with the youth of assimilated foreign lands to the battlefield. They killed, and killed until the rivers, lakes, seas, barrens, and city-states ran thick with blood. They killed until the soldiers’ hair turned white.

Oh—give thanks, thanks to the merciful Angie who raised the withered children. They took up blades from the hands of the elderly, using the strength gained from eating meat to crush the lambs raised on grass! Who else dares to be unconvinced? Who else dares to resist?!

Hetuya smeared the flesh and blood of the enemy; they smoothed the ravines between race and race Hetuya unified the world! All under heaven belongs to Hetuya!

“Eleanor, how has your body become… so weak?! Quacks! They must be quacks! I will settle the score with them.”

Angie had stopped the raging Anya, coughing as she soothed her, saying every person has their fate, and she had already lived for decades under the care of doctors. Angie had whispered many newly read stories and newly compiled books into Anya’s ear.

But she did not say… she did not say that the white-haired poet who whispered into her ear that day was not singing a lullaby, but a “folk song.”

She did not say… there were many, many things she did not say.

Andra, I know. I shouldn’t have been optimistic. There is no ceasefire in your mind, nor a future after peace. The vision you spoke of—leaving together on a ship to explore unknown continents was never your dream; it was the hypnosis I repeated into your ear over and over.

Andra, I do not regret it…

So, regarding the matter of killing you, I will not regret it.

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