Trapped in Another World With No Magic

“Close ranks! Close ranks! Defend the caravan!” shouts Wulfsten, a former knight now working as a mercenary escorting a merchant caravan. He was an officer for the Montarre household until he was discharged. Unfortunately, that means he’s singlehandedly the most experienced warrior and combat leader present. “Guoevad! You’re out of position!”

“Aaghhh!” Just as Wulfsten is calling him back, the junior swordsman is hit by an arrow in the shoulder, toppling.

Damn! curses the former knight silently. They’re being attacked from two sides, a massive monster engaging the caravan at the front, and the bandits that provoked it to the rear. “Archers! Focus on the flanks!” Wulfsten says this as he rushes forward, intercepting the monster as it lunges at Guoevad, driving the other mercenaries back.

The beast is a massive insect-like beast known as a zaftamben. It possesses a body almost twice as large as a female boruan, with powerful forelegs that it swipes at enemies and prey with. The claws slam and shriek against Wulfsten’s shield, stumbling him back.

As a male boruan, he is stronger than the average human-kin, but even his added strength is being sapped away by exhaustion as the relentless assault tears away at his defenses.

The zaftamben lunges its head forward, trying to snap at him with its jaws, and he swings his sword, parrying the mandibles before narrowly blocking another barrage from the foreclaws.

One of the other mercenaries jumps in, shouting as he stabs a spear forward, but he doesn’t have enough strength to penetrate the monster’s exoskeleton.

Given the rather light loadout of the mercenaries, a zaftamben is one of the worst matchups they could have stumbled into.

The zaftamben whirls towards the spearman, batting him away with the backside of its claws, and he flies through the air with a yelp.

“Pikemen! Get behind it! Let’s go!” shouts Wulfsten. The mercenaries are being whittled down one by one, and the merchants that they’re supposed to be guarding are facing the pressure of the multi-sided assault as well, with several injuries the healers are desperately trying to get to.

Suddenly, the shrill chatter of two more zaftambens makes Wulfsten’s blood run cold.

The mercenaries are barely holding at all against one, and two more burst out of the treeline. They strike their wings with vibrant movements that look like blurs to anyone watching, but the sound is like a razor on stone, shrieking through the air with a faintly visible pulse.

Several men scream as even the boruan leader of the mercenaries flinches. Gatonines and shenwulves, particularly, are heavily affected by the shrill pulse, doubling over in pain as they cry out.

And, even as he continues shouting out orders to try to rally the men, Wulfsten can’t even hear his own voice.

The battle is looking dire, and he’s losing men faster and faster.

Just as the despair is taking hold of his soul, the sound is slowly returning, and he hears a man cry out as he sails over the line of carriages, slamming into the first zaftamben and knocking it off balance while its focus was on Wulfsten.

It squeals as it topples to the side briefly from the impact, and the man who was launched through the air flops to the ground lifelessly below where he hit the insectoid monster.

His outfit is not one belonging to any of the mercenaries in Wulfsten’s group, including the ones he met only on the trip. It’s a human wearing green and brown clothing to blend in with the forest around them.

Given the circumstances, he looks to be one of the bandits attacking the caravan from the flanks.

Suddenly, what sounds like a female voice shouts from above, “Heeyaaaahhhhhh!”. A figure falls from the sky like a vengeful archangel, spearing into the body of the insectoid behemoth while it tries to scramble back up to its feet, swatting its claws in vain at the incoming projectile of a warrior.

The speed of the attack is unnaturally ferocious, with the figure darting in fast enough that Wulfsten couldn’t make out any features before a horrifying crunch sound precedes a fountain of insectoid visera, blood, and dirt.

A crater is left where the torso of the giant bug once connected to its thorax, and its claws swipe at the air slower and slower before coming to rest, the life draining from the monster as soil and fluids rain down around Wulfsten, coating the boruan knight in a gooey mess.

Standing amidst the carnage while flicking off the mess from her own arms is a surprisingly modestly-sized human woman with dark honey-brown hair and amber-brown eyes. She is conventionally beautiful for a human, though her attractiveness is buried under the chaos she just inflicted.

She puffs out a breath, saying a little more brightly than the tone would call for, “Phew! One down!”

She then grabs both of the zaftamben’s arms and pulls them off, bounding out of the crater she made with a single leap, and she faces the two new zaftambens, which haven’t noticed her due to being giant insects focused on catching prey.

“Let’s hope this works!”

The young woman who appears to be no older than twenty five pivots on her heel, throwing the right arm of the first zaftamben sideways like one might throw a disc blade or a shield. But, with strength even a boruan champion gladiator would falter to see, the blade slices through the air with a violent spin, whistling loudly as it carves a path straight to the second zaftamben. It looks just in time for its massive insectoid head to be lopped off. Its body plods around for a moment longer before rolling onto its side with its segmented legs up.

Several arrows rain in from the girl’s left side, and Wulfsten instinctively brings his own shield up to block, while the girl yelps, falling to her side when the arrows hit.

One arrow falls directly into her chest as she’s falling backwards. Wulfsten’s heart stops. He was so foolishly stupefied by the young woman’s strength that he completely forgot about the battle, failing to warn her.

Now, the one breath of fresh air that saved him from drowning in the tumultuous sea of this battle has already been stolen away by a single arrow…

…that deflects off of her chest.

The brunette human curls in a ball as she screams, but a second arrow hits her thigh. She flinches her leg instinctively, but the boruan former knight can only watch in astonishment, again falling into an unprofessional stupor at what he is witnessing.

In spite of her fearful retreat from the falling projectiles aimed at her, yet another one of the deadly ranged shots bounces seemingly harmlessly off of her skin, even though she is wearing strange clothes that barely cover any of her skin. on her arms and legs.

The young woman seems to realize this, touching her chest from her position on the ground, panting heavily. “I’m alright? Hah! Haha! I-I’m alright!”

“Move you fool!” Wulfsten is finally able to act, and he runs to the girl, shielding her in case her strange god-given ability is limited in the number of times it can protect her. He has been around long enough to know there are some strange abilities out there, and few countries are like Mornistae, which has the divine artifact that can determine a person’s magical prowess and innate abilities. If her ability hasn’t been quantified, it could easily be a temporary invulnerability or a boost to her skin’s toughness, rather than true invincibility.

He pulls the girl to her feet, darting behind cover as arrows ping and shriek against his shield. He feels the bite in his leg, crying out as he manages to push himself to limp behind the damaged carriage. He flops to the ground after ensuring the woman is also as safe as can be for the moment, and he catches his breath before looking at his wound.

An arrow has caught him in the thigh, and it’s still lodged in place.

The girl pants as she checks herself again, clearly unaware of her seemingly impervious skin until this very day.

And yet, she leapt into combat.

“Miss, I don’t know who you are…”

“I-I’m alive!?” cries out the girl, not realizing Wulfsten was talking.

“Miss!”

“Wait here! I’ll finish this!”

She stands up confidently, bracing herself as the archer takes a shot at her again before Wulfsten can stop her. “You fool-...!”

Still, the arrow deflects off of her shoulder, bouncing in a useless spin as her clothes tear only a little from the arrowhead.

“Hahaha! Amala! You beautiful, lovable angel you! Thank you!” The young woman crouches low, grabbing one of the planks from the damaged carriage as the merchants cower inside. “Hyah!”

The brunette throws the blank like a blade, and the air booms as it vanishes.

A terrible sound like rain or hail shredding through the leaves fills the air as wind blasts a small hole through the branches and leaves in the direction she threw the plank. The arrows stop coming, and the woman checks her strange short-sleeved shirt. “Aww, man! Dupki! I don’t have unlimited shirts!”

She then turns her attention towards the remaining zaftamben when it squeals its shrill call. Merchants in one of the forward carriages cry out as it tries to pry its way inside the vehicle, and the strange young woman takes a breath, as if trying to calm herself down. She’s very peculiar, but Wulfsten is in no place to complain. If anything, he wishes he didn’t need to be rescued, but instead, could urge her to remain safe. It should be the other way around, but he is already beyond fighting, and the girl has wiped out a vast portion of the threat already.

She lunges forward, vanishing as her powerful step digs briefly into the dirt to push her forward.

Before Wulfsten can even drag himself around the carriage to look, the battle is over.

Only a portion of the zaftamben’s torso is remaining as thunder booms, and the foul yellow-orange blood of the giant insect rains down into the distance.

The strange woman who appeared like an angel from the sky defeated the monster with a single punch.

She even sends it off with a small chant like a prayer, though what little Wulfsten hears in the eerie tranquility following the battle sounds like another language.

***

“Potrzebuję piwa,” states Zuzia as she stands still in her final pose, a fist extended forward as the vile orange fluids of a gigantic bug rain down around her, and her own face is sticky with the messy viscera. She feels sick to her stomach, not from killing a monster nor the realization that she just faced a titanic creature, but because she has been coated in slime like some 90’s kids show.

She finally relaxes into a more hunched over posture, trying to keep every part of her own body from touching any other, lest she feel the nasty goo in her hair, on her clothes, and covering her skin.

“Eeeeuuughhh…” groans the Polish woman. She whines impotently, unable to escape the grossness of the giant bugs she just squashed. “There’s not a stiff enough drink in the world for this…” She does her best to wipe the excess from her arms with her hands. It’s barely touching the surface, but she’s thankful Amalaskae is letting her store her gear magically like some sort of anime.

Once she’s roughly as clean as she’s going to get, Zuzia pulls out her phone, taking a picture and texting it to the Angel.

“[Amalaskae, can you tell me what this creature was? Is it poisonous? I got it’s blood on me.]”

Only a few seconds pass before she gets a reply from the over-zealous celestial being.

“[Eww! That’s messy!]” “[It’s called a Zaftamben. They average around 10m tall, 380kg, carnivorous. They’re not usually communal, but multiples might appear during mating season. The merchant caravan probably got too close and became an intended meal. S-Sorry…]”

Zuzia grimaces at the remark about the caravan. It’s a grim reality that there are predators that prey on humans in this world. If she wasn’t already confirmed to be as strong as she was, the sunny brunette wouldn’t have attempted to intervene. She has had the good fortune of never needing her bear spray while out on a hike, but she has had encounters with a lone wolf and a viper on two separate occasions. Fear gripped hear heart tightly, but she relied on the lessons her grandfather taught her, keeping as calm as possible and putting distance between them. The viper was easy, of course, because it was never going to pursue her. But, the wolf followed her for a bit until she climbed a small cliff using a tree, which made the wolf give up on her, since it was turning into too much work.

Today, however, Zuzia actually fought and defeated three monsters that were bigger than a bear. If she doubted her superhuman strength, she wouldn’t after that.

“F-Fair maiden…” speaks a male voice, startling the sandy-brunette and reminding her that she’s not alone and this isn’t a video game.

“Oh! Y-Yes?” asks Zuzia as she whirls, a bit embarrassed that she forgot about the merchants and their mercenaries.

The man who spoke has approached to within a couple of meters of her, and he takes a knee, surprising her even more. “You have saved us, fair maiden. Words cannot adequately express my gratitude.”

Zuzia is stunned by sheepish embarrassment for being treated like a hero, but she has another jolt of recognition. She glances around, as there is a great deal of moans and cries of pain. Not everyone made it out of the battle with the ability to walk on their own. The merchants and other travellers are terrified.

“Whatever the case, we should get the caravan moving again, yes?” points out Zuzia.

The man glances at his travelling companions, and he nods. “You are right, of course. I just wanted you to know how grateful I am.”

“I’ll help. Let’s patch up those we can,” replies Zuzia. “My name is Zuzia.”

“Lady Zuzia, I am honored. I am Wulfsten, member of the Blue Iron Swords.”

The Polish woman offers her hand, and he hesitates. But, realizing he would be rude, he takes her hand, and she helps him to his feet.

Zuzia uses her phone to text Amalaskae again. “[Please send me my first aid kit, Amalaskae. I’m going to help treat the injured.]”

“[Sure thing! On the way!]”

With that, a magic orb appears in front of Zuzia, and she holds her hands out, catching her first aid kit when it drops from the orb. When it disappears, she notices the soldiers, including Wulfsten, staring at her with stunned expressions.

“Ahem! It’s this magic device. It allows me to summon my belongings.”

A few of the mercenaries and merchants glance at each other, and they silently resume the triage of the injured.

Zuzia joins in, using the bandages and other instruments of her first aid kit. She somewhat worries about the implications of leaving behind the wrappings and other materials of her first aid kit, including the bandages. As far as she can tell, she’s introducing far-advanced medical and packaging technology. On one hand, they may not have the technology to replicate it, but on the other hand, it could unnaturally advance this world too quickly, like the theories that aliens built the pyramids of Earth or other various ancient relics and wonders of the world.

“My Lady,” starts Wulfsten cautiously as he works on bandaging one of his comrades. His own wounds are nothing to sneeze at, but he has already patched the worst ones by the looks of it.

“Yes?” asks Zuzia.

“Forgive me, but I haven’t heard of anyone possessing your strength in any of the kingdoms or the Empire.”

Got it. Make note of that. There’s an empire here, and multiple kingdoms. Does that mean they’re on friendly enough terms to know about each other’s strengths and weaknesses?

Wait! How much should I say about being a summon? If I’m captured, what happens?

“I’ve been laying low where I can, Sir Wulfsten. I’m woefully uneducated about the world at large, though.”

“I see. Then, if there is anything I can help you with, you need only name it.”

“Yes, that goes for me as well.”

With the triage coming to a completion, Zuzia is approached by the new speaker. As opposed to the apparent knights and mercenaries around her, this man is more casually dressed. He isn’t flaunting wealth, but still appears to have fine clothing in spite of their simplicity, compared to the other clothes she saw at the village. He must be one of the merchants or a noble travelling with the caravan.

Zuzia stands up, wiping her hands off on her shorts. “I’m Zuzia. It’s nice to meet you, but your gratitude is enough for me.” She looks at her hand, hesitantly offering it for a shake.

The man chuckles a little uneasily, glancing at her hand uneasily. She quickly adds, “I-I understand. Sorry.” She lowers her hand, a little sheepish about how messy her hand is.

“I’m afraid I didn’t understand the gesture,” replies the man. “Regardless, I am Stolkod, a travelling merchant based out of the kingdom of Mornistae.” He places his hand on his chest, bowing politely.

He then gestures to his left, and Zuzia flinches lightly at the woman he points to. “This is my wife, Moenella.”

The man is a human who stands about Zuzia’s height, which makes him fairly average for a European man, though he’s taller than a lot of the human knights around him. And, with that said, the woman is nearly an entire meter taller than either Zuzia or her husband, Stolkod, and her frame is extremely… curvaceous. From her head rise a pair of curved horns, and boots that seem too short for human feet are barely visible under her long dress that gives her an even larger profile.

There are also small patches of fur on her arms, with fingers that don’t look human. And, the fur is a fair white color with grey spots.

Zuzia’s immediate first thought before she can even curb her brain is that the woman reminds Zuzia of a cow. She regrets that the thought ever entered her head, but she can’t shake that feeling. Even the woman’s chest alone possesses a volume nearly as large as Zuzia’s entire torso, and she is the single-largest person the Polish Woman has seen.

Quickly reacting, Zuzia bows politely. “My Lady, it is my pleasure to meet you.”

“No, no!” counters the woman known as Moenella. “Were it not for your intervention, I shudder to think what the outcome might have been.”

“Pardon me, Master Stolkod, but I think we should get the caravan moving as soon as possible,” states Wulfsten. “There is no telling if there are to be more zaftambens in the area, let alone bandits.”

“Quite right,” replies the merchant. “Lady Zuzia, I know it is impudent to ask of our rescuer, but could I request a favor?”

“I’ll certainly hear a request,” replies Zuzia politely. “Though, I’m just me.”

The man laughs warmly. “Of course. If it would be no trouble, we are headed for the nearby city of Emberlight. Once there, we’ll be able to recuperate and make contact with allies to request any needed support. Given your strength, your escort would set my heart at ease. O-Of course, I am willing to pay.”

“What of the mercenaries you already have?” asks Zuzia, glancing at the wounded soldiers. Most of them probably had their own horses or… whatever those beasts of burden are pulling the carriages. But, the soldiers can no longer complete the guarding contract, no doubt, meaning many of them are likely not to get paid.

“If you are worried about the mercenaries, my lady, then you need not be concerned. These men valiantly protected the caravan. There was no way of predicting such a large combined threat.”

“It was likely those imperials,” grumbles Moenella as she spits the words out, looking to the side.

“Hush, my love. That is a dire accusation.”

“Imperials?” asks Zuzia. She shakes her head. “No, forget that for now. Sir Wulfsten is right. And, if you are able to pay without taking it away from the mercenaries, I’m happy to join forces. I have no interest in stealing work.”

Wulfsten laughs. “My Lady, you do us great favor after great favor. I’d be honored to work with you.”

Zuzia smiles and offers her hand. The mercenary who looks like he could be a knight studies it for only a second before grabbing her hand. She grins, shaking it. After all, both of their hands are messy.

“Now then, let’s get the wounded and the dead onto the carriages,” offers Stolkod. “It may slow down the buckrokhs, but with Lady Zuzia here, I would rather arrive safely than quickly.”

“As you command,” replies Wulfsten, a spring in his wounded step. “Men! Get everyone who can’t walk onto carriages! Quickly!”

“I’ll help them,” states Zuzia, jogging to lift grown men into the carriage. A couple of them have cat ears, which tickles a fancy in the young woman, but she keeps it under control. Though, she can’t help but touch the tail of one of the men who looks like a wolf that can stand up. His tail is just as fluffy as the dog she had with her family. She wants to scritch his ears, but she realizes it would be impolite, since this man is a mercenary guarding the caravan, and while he’s unconscious now, it still wouldn’t be right.

Once everyone that can’t walk is loaded up, the handful of men who went to retrieve buckrokhs manage to get some of them to come back, allowing two men to a buckrokh to mount up and continue alongside the caravan.

Naturally, Stolkod and Moenella insist on Zuzia riding in their carriage, and she nervously sits across from the couple. Probably owing to the massive wife’s large size, the carriage is comfortably large and well-cushioned. In fact, were she not in polite company, she would easily fall asleep on the seat.

“If you don’t mind, would it be alright if I use this device to take your picture?” asks Zuzia. She presents her phone, and the two are surprised a bit. “What is a picture?”

“Just a snapshot, like a painting,” explains the brunette. She quickly takes a selfie, showing the picture to the merchant couple.

The two are stunned, cooing over the image. “Ooooh! Just like a memory crystal,” replies Moenella.

“Yes, but much more compact. What an intriguing device,” replies Stolkod. It’s clear he’s studying Zuzia’s phone with great interest, as if to replicate it.

Sorry, buddy. Even if I let you tear it apart, this world’s probably a couple of centuries off of replicating it. I don’t know much about it, but surface-mount chips aren’t something you just slap together.

Not to mention programming. Hahaha.

“Yes, it is one of my most precious possessions,” replies the young woman.

“Ah, of course. It’s times like this I miss the Court Magic Artisans Wenlianna and Ahok,” remarks Stolkod quietly. “Please do take your ‘picture’.”

“It’s a shame Lady Ahok never returned from the battlefront. Half-goblin or not, she was a very amicable individual,” remarks Moenella.

Zuzia naturally has no idea who they’re talking about, so she just smiles and listens.

“Ah yes, you were asking about the imperials,” remarks Moenella brightly all of a sudden.

“Ah, indeed,” agrees Stolkod before his wife continues her explanation.

“The Empire recently brought a large contingent into the kingdom of Mornistae. It’s naturally a boon for us traders, but it does bring a heavier burden onto the kingdom’s economy as a whole.”

“Mornistae was the kingdom we met in, right?” asks Zuzia. I wonder if it’s the same kingdom that summoned me by magic. It must be, right? That seemed like a capital. Maybe… I don’t know! Gah! Just give me a drink and let me relax for once!

“Yes, that is correct. In fact, Emberlight is near the border with Mattarglos. We’re working our way south along the border to try to corner the markets on the goods we picked up from Mattarglos recently.”

“Dear, you should offer her the new product in payment for rescuing us.”

“Ah! Excellent suggestion, my beloved Moenella.”

Zuzia texts the picture she took of Moenella to Amalaskae, asking about the giant woman, as well as the cat-ear and wolf-ear mercenaries she saw.

“Please,” insists the young Polish woman as she waits. “I insist that I’ll accept a simple payment upon our arrival. In fact, I should be thanking you for allowing me to travel in such comfort. And, if you really feel so grateful, I would like to know where I could get a drink. Something heavy, at this point.”

Stolkod and Moenella grin at each other as Stolkod opens a small compartment behind him. “A drink you say?”

Zuzia becomes suspicious at first, but this group has been nothing but kind to her, so she lets it go just as quickly.

She glances at the text message she receives from Amalaskae while Stolkod is searching his compartment. “[She’s a boruan. They’re a race of bovine… um, cow people. They have become more human like over a long time of intermingling with human populations. There are lots of them in Mattarglos, and a fair spread of them through other eastern continents. Without a picture there are two cat-eared people on Zenkon. Probably, you met a gatonine, since you’re in the east. Dattakoriens have more obvious feline features more than the ears and tail, but reside almost exclusively in the west, and are consequently considered demon-kin. Boruans are really strong, and gatonines are agile. If you need more information, please let me know.]” Zuzia smirks. The angel even included a prayer hand emoji.

You’re more human than a human, Amalaskae.

“[Thank you, Amalaskae. You’re the best.]”

Her phone starts vibrating non-stop after that for over a minute as Amalaskae replies with probably a dozen messages. The first one pops up, “[Ooooh! You’re welcome Zuzia! And, please, call me Amala! We’re friends right!? I love you! Thank you!]” The messages continue with similar grateful words of happiness.

Please don’t be a yandere, Amalaskae. If I meet someone romantic in this world, I don’t want you to kill me.

As she’s finishing her internal thoughts, Stolkod withdraws a peculiar glass bottle from his compartment, as well as three glasses.

The bottle has a somewhat simple label on it, but Zuzia easily recognizes the octopus as the main symbol of the picture. She would argue trademark theft if it didn’t look like it was drawn by a child. Additionally, a separate sigil is present on the bottle, though much smaller. It looks like a human girl in a dress, but with big triangular ears and a large tail, and she’s wearing a crown and holding a sword.

The liquid itself is brown, and just watching as it moves in the bottle from Stolkod’s movements, it has legs.

Zuzia’s eyes widen. She’s not an alcoholic, but when she’s stressed, nothing satisfies her more than relaxing with a nice drink.

“This is a special product we received while in Mattarglos. It’s an irreplaceably rare item right now, though the producers are hoping to expand production over time.”

“Wh-What is it?” asks Zuzia, stammering over her desire to taste it even if it isn’t a beer. Given the bottle design, and the somewhat stand-out design of the label, she’s fairly confident it’s not a beer.

“Believe it or not, but this is one of the lower quality batches of a drink called ‘rum’.” Stolkod and Moenella work together to pour the three glasses, and Moenella offers one of the glasses to the Polish brunette.

“Please, try it. But, be warned, it’s quite a sharp taste…”

He just barely finishes and watches in stunned silence alongside his boruan wife as Zuzia sips it without hesitation, rolling the liquid over her tongue.

As he said, it is definitely a strong flavor, heavily based in sugar, molasses, and added spices that give it a bold and flavorful profile. It’s a stronger and spicier rum than what Zuzia has had before, but it tickles a fancy she hasn’t been able to satisfy since coming to this world.

It most assuredly is a spiced rum.

Zuzia sighs in satisfaction from the first sip, having thoroughly tasted and enjoyed the flavor. She flinches and blushes. “S-Sorry. Di-Did you wish to toast?”

“Toast?” asks Moenella innocently, having enjoyed watching Zuzia savor the drink.

“O-Oh! Uh… Like this.” Zuzia demonstrates by tapping her glass gently to Moenella’s, and then Stolkod’s. “It’s supposed to be good luck or something.”

“Ahhh, indeed,” remarks Stolkod warmly, tapping his glass to Moenella’s, who grins in turn. They all then take a sip of the rum.

All three sigh contentedly, and Zuzia says gently, “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s been a while…”

“A while?” asks Stolkod. “Before the Fievegal appeared, I’ve never heard of any drink like this.”

The young human woman flinches slightly. Alcohol really didn’t exist before recently? Really? How does this world function? Isn’t it like a required nutrient? At least for society as a whole… What is this world?

“I-Is there… Where does this come from?”

Stolkod glances at Moenella, who nods slightly.

The human merchant says in a quiet tone, “There is a rising nation west of the mountains called the Fievegal. They’ve recently made inroads into Mattarglos to open trade with the east. They’re mostly demon-kin, but I hear the Emperor is a human.”

“So, you haven’t met the Emperor?” asks Zuzia. She realizes almost immediately that it was a foolish question, but the two don’t laugh at her too much.

“Certainly not with my lowly station,” replies Stolkod. “Though, I hear he’s very approachable, and dare I say, commoner-like himself. They say you wouldn’t recognize him as an Emperor if you just ran into him on the street.”

Moenella leans closer, which is somewhat intimidating with her massive size. “There is also talk of him being an otherworlder, summoned by Mornistae and then banished after a strange series of events.”

Summoned? Then, could they be talking about Daniel? That explains the label, as well as everything else. So, Daniel is the Emperor of the Fievegal? Noted.

“Please tell me, is the name of this Emperor ‘Daniel’, by chance?”

Both Stolkod and Moenella are surprise. “Why yes, it is. Do you know about him?” replies Moenella.

“N-Not specifically. I’ve heard the name before, so I just wanted to confirm.”

“I see. Indeed, the Fievegal is peculiar. But, the rumors about Daniel do seem to be rather exaggerated.”

Zuzia smirks. Rumors? Great. So, I have to try to filter out what kind of guy he is, right? We’ll, he came to this world and became an Emperor, so he must think he’s a typical isekai protagonist.

Zuzia rolls her eyes as she imagines it.

He better check himself if he thinks I’m going to join his harem. I’ll chop his balls off if he tries anything.

She clenches her fist, but she also glances at her glass, which still has a little of the rum inside.

And why did you start with rum instead of beer? Idiot.

***