Volume 1, Chapter 24 – Dawn in Aurora City

Two girls cloaked in gray hoods walked with their heads down along the street.

The deafening roar before dawn and the violet crescent moon looming in the sky had roused most of Aurora City’s residents from their slumber. Countless people stepped out of their homes, craning their necks to glimpse the source of the noise, murmuring among themselves about what might have happened in the city.

This chaos inadvertently worked in Fia and Anastasia’s favor. The crowds clogging the streets hindered the movements of the guards while also providing cover for the two of them. They weaved effortlessly through the throng, free from the worry of being stopped at any moment.

“It’s exactly like the Middle Ages.”

Far from the tension of a fugitive escape, Fia quietly observed the people around her.

Though she had been in this otherworld for several days now, this was her first chance to examine the city’s inhabitants up close.

Most of the people wore only summer shirts and shorts, their clothes grimy and patched—a common sight. Their rough skin suggested years of hard labor, matching the image of medieval peasants save for one detail: the people of this world didn’t wear headscarves.

Additionally, families here were large. Every household had at least three children, and Fia had even spotted one couple surrounded by as many as nine.

Polygamy was also common here—but only among men dressed in fine clothes. These men were often accompanied by two or three wives clad in elegant dresses, their children neatly dressed as well, unlike the children of commoners, who wore little more than scraps of cloth draped over their bodies.

The wealth gap was especially stark among the children. The offspring of the rich had rosy cheeks and stood beside their parents, nibbling on bread, while the commoners’ children were thin and could only stare longingly at the clean loaves in the hands of the wealthy.

As for the city itself, the streets were wide enough for three carriages to pass side by side. Vendors were setting up stalls along the roads, and occasionally, villagers from the surrounding countryside could be seen hauling crops and game. Fia could tell they were villagers by their distinct attire and demeanor, which set them apart from the city dwellers.

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One thing was certain: had it not been for the explosion earlier, within an hour, these streets would have been bustling with the shouts of merchants and the clatter of carriages.

“The Middle Ages?”

Perhaps because no guards had appeared so far, Anastasia had relaxed somewhat, no longer as tense as before. She slowed her pace, joining Fia in observing Aurora City’s residents.

“Mhm. It’s a period in history. Later on, knights in armor would be replaced by gunpowder and firearms.”

“Gunpowder? Firearms?”

Anastasia’s bright blue eyes flickered with confusion.

Does this world not even have black powder and guns? No—in a world built on magic, ordinary black powder and firearms would likely be seen as weak as toys. After all, even Fia, who had just arrived in this world, could casually toss out spells with the destructive power of a nuclear explosion. In comparison, black powder and guns would seem utterly insignificant.

Fia recalled the gray owls she had encountered when she first entered the Great Forest. With their sky-obscuring wind blades, it was hard to imagine people taking an interest in something as finicky and dirty as firearms.

This must be what they call a divergence in technological development. It wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon.

Fia had even seen civilizations capable of interstellar travel while still stuck at a medieval level in other fields.

When the number of civilizations grew large enough, nothing was too strange to exist.

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She elaborated for Anastasia.

“Firearms are tubular weapons that can shoot bullets—or arrows, if you prefer—from a great distance, killing a person in a single strike.”

“Wouldn’t crossbows and regular bows be more convenient?”

“In a way, yes. But bows require strength from the user, and their lethality, range, and firing speed are limited. Firearms far surpass them in efficiency—both in killing and in the ease of learning and mastering their use.”

Forming a unit of archers required selecting skilled individuals from countless soldiers, with both strength and discipline being essential. Even after selection, extensive time and resources had to be invested in long-term training. But with guns, even a child could pose a lethal threat to an adult after just a short period of training.

Anastasia lowered her head in thought.

“Tubular… shoots something like an arrow… highly lethal… Are you referring to Fire Staffs or Thunder Staffs? But those are magic staves.”

“Well, if there’s a chance, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Now it’s my turn to be confused. Fia had no idea what Anastasia meant by Fire Staffs or Thunder Staffs, but judging by the names, they must be very… magical tools.

The conversation lapsed into silence.

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Fia stole a glance at Anastasia, who walked beside her, shielding her on the inner side of the street. Having just emerged from a fierce battle, Anastasia’s expression was weary beneath the strands of her golden hair. Though she hadn’t voiced it, Fia could sense the guilt and self-reproach weighing on her.

The reason, of course, was her tactical misjudgment. She had failed to realize that the news of Aurora City imprisoning royalty was a deliberate trap set by the Holy Kingdom—one that had nearly trapped Fia, the elf princess.

If Fia were in Anastasia’s position, she would have felt the same: ashamed to face the princess, despite having done her best. But since Anastasia had given her all—a fact plain to see—Fia held no blame for her.

Maybe I should say something to ease the tension.

Fia averted her gaze, pretending not to notice the dejection on Anastasia’s face.

“This knowledge probably isn’t part of the elf princess’s memories, is it?”

“Ah… no. I’ve never heard of such things. If this ‘firearm’ weapon is truly as formidable as you say, then the extra memories in Your Highness might actually be beneficial rather than harmful.”

Even so, Anastasia doesn’t find it strange at all.

Fia marveled at her adaptability. Under normal circumstances, Anastasia should have grown suspicious of her identity by now. Of course, this was just an inside joke—Fia meant nothing by it. After last night, she no longer agonized over her identity. She was the elf princess, and the elf princess was her.

After a brief silence, Anastasia spoke again, her voice tight with shame, her usual steadfast expression now clouded with humiliation. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Fia.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. If I had thought more carefully, you would already be safely out of Aurora City by now.”

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“Anastasia, I’ve never blamed you. No one can guarantee they won’t make mistakes—especially when we’re deep in enemy territory. The fact that you’ve kept your composure is already remarkable.”

Fia’s forgiveness brought a flush to Anastasia’s cheeks—not from affection, but from overwhelming guilt. The intensity of it sharpened her tone.

“But I didn’t just make one mistake—I made two in the same battle! First, I failed to protect you under the Unsinkable Moon, and now, for the sake of some nameless royalty, I’ve exposed you to danger again! How can I face you? Do I even deserve to remain by your side?”

By the end, her words were laced with self-doubt—not directed at Fia, but at herself.

Fia couldn’t help but be stunned.

Ah… this is troublesome.

Had their positions reversed?

Last night, it was Anastasia who comforted her. Now, it was her turn to console Anastasia.

Fia couldn’t help but smile wryly.