Volume 1, Chapter 13 – An Encounter Under the Night Sky?

Claire faintly curved her lips, returning Fia’s pure, untainted smile.

“If there’s a chance, we’ll meet again—if you still remember me, remember tonight. Well then, goodbye.”

“Ah, yes, goodbye.”

With a light wave, Fia watched as Claire walked away.

However, after only a few steps, Claire suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Fia. Those emerald-green eyes no longer held a smile but instead carried a gaze that seemed to observe something.

What’s wrong?

Before the words could leave her lips, Fia also sensed something unusual.

Claire wasn’t looking at her—her focus was behind Fia.

The faint sound of hooves and the creaking of carriage wheels. Whoever was approaching wasn’t alone; it was an entire procession.

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Fia immediately turned around.

An elf’s senses were far sharper than a human’s. Though it was night, under the dim moonlight, Fia could still make out the scale of the group.

There were likely over a hundred people, slowly emerging one after another from the street corner. However, this group didn’t seem to be targeting Fia—rather, they appeared to be a weary troop returning from battle. At the front, several leaders clad in silver armor rode on horseback, while the soldiers behind marched on foot. The entire procession moved in silence, without a single whisper among them.

If there was anything particularly noteworthy, it was the creaking carriage—or rather, the prison cart. A large cage made of sturdy wood was fastened to the cart, inside which were elves covered in blood, crammed in like discarded trash. Exhausted beyond measure, these elves seemed completely unaware of their arrival in a human town, their eyes closed as they slumped limply in the cage.

“These are soldiers returning from the front lines. According to battle reports, the Elf Princess suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the Knight Order a few days ago, and her forces subsequently collapsed. The elves in the prison cart are prisoners of war. If the elven kingdom can’t offer reparations in exchange for these prisoners, they’ll be sent to labor in the mines or the Monster Forest.”

Claire, who had already left, returned and quietly explained to Fia in a low voice. As she spoke, she gently pulled Fia to the side of the road.

“No need to be afraid. Just stand by the roadside. Though humans and elves are at odds, the Knight Order won’t attack law-abiding elves within the city.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Her eyes fixed on the approaching army, Fia replied softly.

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She wasn’t afraid of the soldiers—rather, she was scanning the prison cart for any elves who matched the memories of the Elf Princess.

Soon, the head of the procession reached Fia.

At this distance, Fia could clearly see the expressions on the leaders’ faces. Contrary to the triumphant pride one might expect after a victory, the leading man’s expression was grave, deep in thought. He didn’t even seem to notice Fia and Claire standing by the roadside.

There were no familiar faces from the Elf Princess’s memories in the prison cart.

After careful observation, Fia came to this conclusion.

Still, after returning, she should inform Anastasia that there were prisoners being held in this city. She bore no ill will toward Anastasia, and providing her with this information might help her in some way. More importantly, Fia might have to live as the Elf Princess from now on—helping Anastasia was, in a way, helping herself.

—Until one of the leaders, his body entirely wrapped in bandages, abruptly tightened his reins and stopped right in front of Fia without warning.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

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The sudden change prompted the leading knights to turn their horses around, looking at the bandaged commander who had halted unexpectedly. But the man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his sharp eyes locked onto Fia by the roadside, like a hawk spotting prey. The intensity of his gaze made Fia’s heart skip a beat.

This was bad.

She’d been discovered.

The moment their eyes met, Fia’s heart stuttered. Even though she had never met this man before—this mummy-like figure wrapped head-to-toe in bandages—she could tell from his gaze that he suspected her.

Fortunately, Anastasia had disguised her before she left. Otherwise, a fight would have already broken out.

The man on horseback slowly approached Fia, looking down at her from his elevated position. His right hand rested subtly on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment.

If it came to a fight, these people were no match for her. Keeping her expression calm, Fia silently assessed the situation. The Secret History of Witches had categorized magic into ten tiers based on destructive power. The kind of magic she could wield—capable of annihilating an entire city in an instant—was at least ninth-tier, the pinnacle of magical achievement. Throughout the continent’s history, those who could cast ninth-tier magic were invariably heroes among heroes.

After all, even in the human alliance she once lived in, there were no instances of a single soldier standing against atomic power. So Fia had no doubt that these people were no match for a nuclear blast.

The thought steadied her.

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“Elf. Have we met before?”

“Never.”

Fia answered evenly.

The man tilted his head slightly.

“Is that so? But it’s so late at night. Where are you headed?”

“Just out for a walk.”

“A walk? So you have time to spare? In that case, why not come with me to the lord’s manor? You—you resemble the Elf Princess.”

“Th-the Elf Princess?”

The moment those words were spoken, the procession erupted into chaos. Fia could even see panic and alarm in the soldiers’ movements, as if they were startled birds.