Thanks to the university education I received in my previous world, many political concepts were not unfamiliar to me—especially since I had studied them in history courses. Moreover, adapting my knowledge to this world was not particularly complicated.

  However, when it came to military strategy, things were very different. I had some advantage thanks to my logical reasoning, but regarding numbers, population management, and battlefield tactics, I was not as advanced as I would have liked.

  Sir Einar was relentless with his lessons, though never unfair. If we had doubts, he answered them without hesitation—a gesture my sister Alda truly appreciated. Her intellectual abilities could not compare to mine; even making the comparison felt unfair.

  “Children, it is time I teach you about a fundamental part of our army: heavy cavalry. This is our greatest weapon. Armored knights are a devastating force—nothing terrifies the enemy more than a powerful charge.”

  The Master of War paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully.

  “But at the same time, knights are difficult to control. Most of them are arrogant and believe they can act independently. They seek glory and honor—two values that have no place on the battlefield.”

  Sir Marte Hogan was perhaps an exception.

  But he belonged to the Royal Guard, so he could not serve as a proper comparison to ordinary knights.

  To be honest, I had little contact with regular knights—only my personal guard and men-at-arms elevated to the rank of “Sir” through personal merit.

  “Knights are strong warriors,” Alda commented, smiling with admiration. “Can I become a knight?”

  “Yes,” Sir Einar replied. “As a woman, your rank would be ‘Lady,’ but under the law, you would bear the same responsibilities as a knight.”

  “And how do I become one? Or in this case, a Lady?”

  “That is precisely my point.” Sir Einar paused. “Not all knights are of noble birth, but the most renowned ones—those who command their own retinues of soldiers, servants, and even keeps—are. Therefore, it is essential that both of you become knights as soon as possible.”

  “I understand why Alda needs the title. But why me? I’m the future king of this country. My name won’t carry ‘Sir’ behind it.”

  “It is tradition that all kings be knights. If you are not, many may question your legitimacy. The last thing the kingdom needs is a separatist faction. Remember, Your Highness—we are a martial society, and military strength is highly valued here.”

  “Right.”

  Again, the image of Ronaldo being struck flashed through my mind. If our society were more pacifist and art-focused, perhaps his talents would be better appreciated, and the world easier to govern.

  Should I change it?

  No. From experience, I knew social changes did not occur within one or two generations. They required decades—sometimes centuries. And right now, what we needed most was martial power to defeat the Kingdom of Apollo.

  “I understand. I suppose I’ll become a knight, then. It wasn’t part of my plans, but if there is no alternative, I will do it.”

  “I am glad you understand. Now, to answer your question, Alda: to become a knight, you must accomplish a feat worthy of renown. Of course, someone could knight you at any time—but without witnesses, achievements, or recommendations, no one will respect the title.”

  “Oh! That sounds amazing! I need to do incredible things to earn it. What a challenge!” my adorable older sister exclaimed.

  “In my case, Sir Einar, the knights would respect me more if I were knighted during a public event, correct?”

  “Exactly. I recommend receiving your knighthood during a tournament.”

  “Understood. I’ll think of something. Please continue the cavalry lesson.”

  “Very well. Once you have earned the knights’ respect, you must consider how to use them properly. Heavy cavalry is powerful, but its stamina is limited. The weight of armor affects both rider and horse. You must be decisive and deliberate when deploying them. Otherwise, their effectiveness will be cut in half.”

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  “And when should we use them?” Alda asked with innocent curiosity.

  “That depends on your strategy. Some generals prefer to exhaust enemy troops with skirmishes and arrows, then release the cavalry to shatter them. Another approach is to engage infantry in close combat first, and once the enemy line is tired, divide the cavalry into two flanks to strike from the sides, break their formation, and pursue. Both are valid.”

  “And in what situations would each be preferable?” I asked.

  “There are many factors. Weather, for example. Mounted knights perform best in mild conditions. In extreme heat, I would hold them back until the final stage. In rain, dismount them and send them into infantry combat. And never deploy heavy cavalry in muddy terrain—only a fool would make that mistake. Also, never charge heavy cavalry against light cavalry; that is almost certainly a feigned retreat—a tactic used by steppe nomads.”

  “And just out of curiosity,” Alda asked, “what happens if I charge head-on without any plan?”

  Her question might have sounded foolish, almost insulting to military strategy—but Sir Einar smiled slyly and patted her head.

  “Excellent observation. Every battle is different. Sometimes a visceral, uncontrolled charge can break a defensive encirclement, intimidate the enemy, and end the fight before they can regroup. However, you must be absolutely certain the frontal charge will succeed immediately… or you will lose.”

  “I see…” Alda murmured.

  “One more thing,” Sir Einar added. “As generals, you will command hundreds—even thousands—of lives. Every soldier, knight, engineer, and servant has family, friends, loved ones waiting at home. If you make a mistake, you will carry their deaths for the rest of your life. Many cannot bear that pressure and take their own lives from guilt. This is not a game. Human life must never be taken lightly.”

  He was right.

  Too often, high-ranking officers forgot that simple truth: humans are not immortal, and it does not take much to send someone to their end.

  Alda nodded and closed her eyes.

  “I know… I know the guards who watch over my palace. They’re not pieces on a board. One is named Francisco, and he’s in love with the florist Lulu. It would be tragic if he died without confessing. Luciano, Martino, Edgar, Héctor—they all matter.”

  Alda truly meant it. She knew almost every guard by name, having earned their trust through kindness, jokes, and sneaking them snacks.

  She was loved not because she was the king’s daughter—even illegitimate—but because of her warmth and charisma.

  “However,” Sir Einar interrupted, “we are not heroes. People die in war. It is impossible to save everyone. Every life has value, yes—but if you try to save every soldier at all costs, you may lose them all.”

  “That’s true…” Alda admitted. “But I’ll always do everything I can to minimize casualties.”

  “I would do the same,” I said. “Victories mean nothing if I lose my people’s support. A king who is not backed by his soldiers is doomed. If I send them to the slaughter constantly just to gain small victories, it will not be worth it in the long term.”

  My words carried a mix of compassion, pragmatism, and resolve. I hated the idea of sacrificing people for ambition. I would never follow someone who led me to certain death.

  Simple logic.

  “That is understandable, Your Highness. Then you must study diligently so your future battles do not become disasters.”

  The lessons continued.

  Sir Einar taught us tight formations, advanced shield walls, even a primitive testudo using thick shields. Personally, I was not a fan—but it was still more effective than the obsolete phalanx. Even in this world, it was considered outdated.

  Memorizing everything was exhausting. Even with my prior education, retention techniques felt insufficient.

  When class ended, Alda and I left deep in thought. We had no energy to discuss what we had learned.

  Halfway down the corridor, we encountered Ingrid.

  “Hey, good job,” she greeted us.

  “You too. How are lessons with Mother?” I asked.

  “T-They’re demanding,” Ingrid admitted. “But I’m trying hard. Girasol is an excellent queen regent. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from her.”

  When Ingrid told me she had become Mother’s official lady-in-waiting, I felt genuinely happy for her. The timid girl who had arrived frightened at the castle was becoming a capable court lady.

  That transformation had not happened overnight.

  She had endured hardships, painful moments—traumas that would likely follow her for life. Yet she chose to move forward instead of drowning in regret.

  “Congratulations, Ingrid!” Alda exclaimed, smiling brightly. “Girasol will teach you well. I also need to improve my intellectual skills… I’m not very good at that.”

  “We all have different talents,” I said. “Ingrid is clever and elegant. You’re brave and determined. True strength comes when we unite our abilities and use them for the common good.”

  “Actually, Ulric, I think I’ve found a way to help you,” Ingrid said thoughtfully. “I know how to make Yuka respect us.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I thought about it carefully while observing Girasol’s meetings. I believe I’ve found the way.”

  “I don’t understand,” Alda interrupted. “Explain?”

  “To make Yuka respect us, we must show her how necessary we are—not just to her, but to her family.”

  “And how?” I asked.

  “By helping her family,” Ingrid declared with an ambitious smile.

  “How exactly?”

  “Ulric challenged Ronaldo to a duel of honor. We all know he has no chance alone, and his trainer isn’t helping him properly. That’s where we come in. Alda, you’ll help him train physically. I’ll guide him intellectually. I’m not good with weapons,” Ingrid admitted, blushing, “but I can study the theory and show Yuka that we care about their success.”

  “I see. You want to prove your usefulness and gain her trust politically. Ingrid… you’ve really been learning from Mother.”

  She blushed deeper.

  “Ulric, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m glad. It’s a smart move. And it will teach Yuka some humility.”

  “Let’s do it!” Alda shouted.

  And just like that, the two of them ran off together to find Ronaldo and begin their plan.

  One step at a time, our paths were taking shape.