CHAPTER 433: ASTRID = CREATOR

"It is an honor to travel with you, Saintess Monica."

At the foot of a mountain near the tundra in the Cartel Mountains, a graceful brunette woman stood before a neatly lined-up group of Temple Knights, listening to the captain’s report.

Although in this frigid wilderness, Monica, attending as the Saintess of Light, still wore her full clerical attire, a translucent, pure-white veil draped over her rounded, delicate shoulders, underneath which clung a skin-tight white robe. The lace-trimmed fabric gently hugs her full, supple curves, accentuating the woman’s shapely figure.

Below, her long, voluptuous legs were sheathed in white thigh-high stockings. Silver-patterned bands encircled her upper thighs like ornamental rings, creating subtle visual contours. Her feet were clad in sleek black stilettos, with fine crisscrossed straps securing them around the ankles.

"The Holy Church seeks to spread divine grace across the world, bringing pure light to barren, dark lands. As one closest to the divine, I must personally carry out the path of salvation."

Monica spoke calmly, her expression solemn, as she saluted the handsome red-haired knight captain before her.

"Lord Kales, regarding the upcoming eastward crusade of the Church’s Knight Order, I trust you are already aware of the procedures outlined in the Pope’s decree..."

"One thing you must remember: our goal is to spread the doctrine, not to cause senseless slaughter."

"Even the merciful, omniscient, and omnipotent Lord grants His followers time to change their faith."

Hearing Monica’s words, the knight captain, Kales, kept his gaze straight ahead, his clear eyes reverently fixed on the Saintess of Light. Not a flicker of hesitation or downward glance betrayed any distraction from her striking beauty.

"Kales Gaskett humbly obeys Saintess Monica’s guidance," the man said respectfully.

"Everything we do is to ensure the Lord’s grace blankets the earth."

Seeing Kales remain as rigid as ever, Monica wasn’t sure whether to commend his devotion or criticize his blind rigidity. Her amber-gold eyes swept across the distant army as she spoke faintly.

"Everyone, advance immediately. Head toward that land devoid of faith."

"May the omniscient and omnipotent Lord watch over us. May the glory of the Holy Church endure forever."

She crossed her hands over her chest, and warm light radiated outward from her, bathing the surroundings.

Ten minutes later, inside the private carriage reserved for the Saintess, Monica removed her veil, revealing her light brown hair. Her palm rested against the window frame as she felt the cold wind brush her skin, sending faint chills through her body.

More than a month had passed since the war between the two nations began. With sealed borders and all forbidden passages, Monica’s private intelligence network within the Valeria Empire has been increasing, cutting off all communication with Astrid.

The only intelligence she currently had was that Valeria Emperor Hibbort Valeria was gravely ill, and a succession was imminent.

As a core member of the eldest prince’s faction, the most likely to ascend, Astrid should be safe for now. All that remained was to wait for Lucas’s ascension. Then, she and Iris should begin their coordinated actions, after all, the warmongers still hold the majority within the kingdom. Until the military suffered a significant setback, their minority faction could do little to change the course of the war.

The carriage wheels rolled over dirt and gravel, kicking up pebbles, causing the cabin to sway slightly. Monica gazed out at the scattered snowflakes, her mind involuntarily conjuring the image of a figure as cold and pure as snow.

Astrid Calliste, Imperial Princess of the Valeria Empire, a key driving force behind magitech development, and one of the central figures enabling Valeria’s military leap forward.

What secrets lie hidden within her? Why did every interaction give Monica the uncanny sensation that Astrid was being watched by the god, her every action entangled with fate itself?

Moreover, Baroness Lyra, the bearer of the [ Holy Sword of Light], followed Astrid without question. Her every action declared to all that she was the most faithful follower of the Imperial Princess.

With exceptional affinity for light elements and in possession of the other half of the sacred relic, Lyra should have been the undisputed Messiah, the holy knight destined to transform humanity.

Why, then, would someone like her willingly become a subordinate?

"..."

Closing her eyes, the haunting image of those icy red pupils lingered in her mind. Monica felt herself returning to that night in the imperial capital, in the royal dressing room. She had undressed in front of Astrid, removing her clothes and shoes, yet the other woman had simply watched, revealing no emotions at all.

The more she thought, the stronger that elusive sense of familiarity surrounding the girl became, something Monica couldn’t quite name. It was as if they had once lived side by side.

It was almost... like standing before a statue of the Lord...

At that thought, Monica suddenly opened her eyes, her crimson lips parting slightly, releasing a faint, sweet breath.

"Astrid... impossible..."

The dazed whisper echoed in the carriage, like someone waking from a dream, muttering to herself.

If familiarity was the word, then for a girl raised from childhood within the Church of Light as a candidate for Saintess, it shouldn’t refer to a person, nor to an object.

It should refer to the marble statue of the Mother of All Beings, the one she knelt before daily at dawn and dusk in prayer.

Along the main road leading toward the border, the carriage continued forward.

Monica lifted a hand to gently touch her chest. Her two semi-transparent, silk-clad legs crossed and rubbed softly together, as she felt her heart pounding violently beneath layers of fabric, stirred by a terrifying suspicion.

If Astrid truly could end the war between the two nations and lead humanity into a new era...

Such a person wouldn’t merely possess extraordinary talent and charisma. She would also carry immense fortune... and if that were true, Monica was likely not mistaken...

Astrid Calliste, the silver-haired, red-eyed Imperial Princess.

The unconscious avatar of the omniscient and omnipotent Lord, the earthly vessel of divine will, the one and only being served by holy light knights, the perfect embodiment of [Beauty].

..............

Thousands of miles away, completely unaware that she had already been equated with the Creator in Monica’s mind, Astrid sat at her desk, her legs pressed together, with a white-stockinged girl under five feet tall seated atop her thighs.

Since the Fourth Princess’s identity had not yet been exposed and she wasn’t openly involved in the succession struggle, Amalia had limited ability to intervene directly in politics. As her older sister and guardian, all Astrid could do was, under the pretense of helping Lucas with his burdens, guide her through the empire’s political structure and supplement her education with academic knowledge, laying a foundation for the future.

"What checks has the Emperor placed on the Velmont family, who controls numerous commercial resources?"

"The Rights Charter clearly stipulates that the Velmont family must regularly pay commercial taxes. Officials are assigned to ensure transparency in goods circulation, preventing large-scale trafficking and potential tax evasion. Additionally, essential commodities such as grain and salt are directly controlled by the royal family and not delegated to dukes for private trade..."

Amalia spoke softly. Her two nimble, silky-white feet gently scraped against Astrid’s legs. Her small, delicate toes tugged at the creamy white silk, stretching the thin fabric, making the soft, silk-covered tips of her feet faintly visible.

"Furthermore, resources requiring large-scale supply, such as ores and animal pelts, are managed by Duke Thomas in the northeast. Moving northeast, the silk produced within Duke Cassian’s domain is also a prized commodity eagerly sought by the nobility."

"The Velmont family profits greatly from their commercial networks, but they are still far from challenging royal authority."

"Just like Duke Charles, despite being the most powerful noble, still faces grain shortages and relies on royal distribution for supplies. Even the wealthy Velmont family dances in chains."

Her pink-tinged, porcelain-like heels brushed against Astrid’s legs, covered in smooth black silk. Her body swayed slightly, causing the straps above to gently rub against her thighs.

Astrid had grown grown to these intimate little gestures. Listening to Amalia’s soft reply, she nodded in approval.

"Excellent answer, Amalia."

"Now, let’s try an extension question. If you successfully ascend the throne, how would you prevent the Velmont family’s ambitions from growing excessively?"

In the original novel, Amalia’s ability to wage war and launch large-scale invasions was only possible with the support of domestic nobles.

Duke Charles, one of the first to suffer heavy losses, lost vast territories and saw millions of displaced citizens. The later loss of his daughter compounded his grief, aligning his political will for revenge with Amalia’s early in the war.

As for the Velmont family, they capitalized on the rising demand for magical weapons, aggressively purchasing various magic crystals to supply as battlefield energy, amassing enormous profits. While publicly neutral, their overall stance favors prolonging the war.

Hearing her sister’s question, Amalia paused briefly, her smooth, milky foot arch pressing backward against Astrid’s calf.

"At least in the early days of my reign, I should not show any intention of weakening the Velmont family. According to your plan, they are the political force supporting my ascension. If I act against them, regardless of whether I am personally harmed, such ’killing the donkey after grinding’ behavior would cause discontent among certain nobles, shaking an already unstable foundation."

"During wartime, I will regulate the quantity and pricing of magic crystal procurement. Once political ease, I will gradually introduce monetary legislation to curb the expansion of commercial families, slowly boiling the frog."

"Magical devices will face an even greater energy shortage in the future. Until Professor Charlotte’s research achieves a breakthrough, this issue remains unsolvable. In other words, even without our intervention, the Velmont family’s influence will continue to rise..."

"...If we must act against them, it would be better to offer benefits while reclaiming power. While overall commercial profits grow, we slightly trim the branches connected to political authority. Duke Cedric likely wouldn’t mind too much."

It was Third Princess Astrid who had driven magical devices development and helped the Velmont family earn greater profits. Using this leverage to curb their rising power was logically justifiable.

"Relatively gentle measures indeed avoid friction."

Astrid’s pink lips parted slightly, approving Amalia’s reasoning.

If it were the blonde, white-dressed tyrant from another timeline, her methods would have been far more aggressive.

Be firm when necessary, and soft when required. A ruler need not be confined to one method, flexibility and adaptability are key to maintaining control.

She just wondered when Amalia’s theories would face real-world testing.

But... it should be soon...

Recently, the number of imperial guards in the capital had noticeably increased. Without even trying to observe, Astrid could see numerous sword-bearing knights in armor, helmets obscuring their faces, patrolling the streets even during her casual walks.

It was still nearly two months until the Emperor’s death in the original novel. Hibbort’s chronic illness should have only just begun showing symptoms, there was no reason for such heightened tension.

Thus, Hibbort was undoubtedly fishing.

Now it was just a matter of seeing whether Alistair or Lucas would be the first to blow their cover.

After discussing specific plans with Amalia for a while longer, Astrid stood up and took a sip of tea. Just then, the head maid knocked on the door. Since she was nearby, Astrid simply walked over to open it.

Seeing Astrid appear at the doorway, Elise politely bowed.

"Miss, I have a report."

"Come in."

One hand took the parchment from Elise, while the other held her teacup. Astrid scanned the densely written report on Lucas’s movements and couldn’t help but remark:

"The nobles of the capital are truly enthusiastic, they’ve packed the eldest prince’s schedule full."

In truth, Astrid had received just as many invitations as Lucas, mostly from younger nobles.

As a stunningly beautiful Imperial Princess, her suitors were as numerous as river carp, stretching endlessly. Coupled with her status as a core member of the eldest prince’s faction, connecting with her now offered only benefits and no drawbacks.

Unfortunately, Astrid had zero interest in such social affairs, so she had declined them all.

Whether driven by desire for the power behind her or by lust for her personally, these men’s intentions were far too blatant.

The only one who’d try to sleep with someone on sight was probably Lucas, that imperial stallion.

Besides, the current tense situation, under the Emperor’s semi-disappearance, was no time for frequent public appearances. Any mistake would be too great a loss.

Laying low for a while wasn’t a bad idea.

"May 16th: Dinner with Countess Kaeltrin..."

"May 17th: Attend the coming-of-age ceremony of Duke Cassian’s son..."

"..."

"May 28th: Go flower-viewing with Miss Helen outside the imperial capital."

His schedule was already filled for next month.

As usual, she noted down the names of all female nobles, in case any royal bloodlines were born in secret.

Gently stroking the rough surface of the parchment, Astrid gazed at the line mentioning Helen, her red eyes narrowing slightly.

"Flower-viewing outside the city?"

Wasn’t that a bit too bold?