Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Sharpshooter Grand Duchess
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Firearms themselves were older than one might think.
By Earth's timeline, around the 9th century, toward the end of the Tang Dynasty.
The prevailing theory is that Daoist alchemists, in their pursuit of an elixir for immortality, accidentally mixed sulfur, saltpeter, and charcoal—and boom, gunpowder was born.
At first, it was little more than a bamboo tube packed with powder or a fire lance spewing flames—an auxiliary weapon at best.
A tool to enhance other arms, but hardly a mainstay.
But human history has always been the same.
Once war enters the picture, progress accelerates dramatically.
By the 13th century, gunpowder had evolved beyond mere flames into something that could fire projectiles.
And so the metal-barreled hand cannon was born.
Pack the barrel with powder, load a shot on top, light the side vent—and with an explosion, the bullet flies.
Crude by 21st-century standards, no doubt.
But it was undeniably the ancestor of the gun.
Next came improvements to the ignition system.
Carrying a separate slow match and fiddling with a vent every time was cumbersome—and deadly in combat.
So from the late 14th century, they mechanized the lighting process. By the 15th, matchlocks took hold.
A lit match lowered by a trigger mechanism to ignite the powder.
That was the lineage of the arquebuses used by Joseon and Japan during the Imjin War.
Then came standardization and tactics.
Longer barrels, heavier shot, consistent powder loads.
Not for single shooters, but for lines of men firing in volleys.
That was the musket of the Middle Ages.
In early 16th-century Europe, it spread widely and earned its title as the most practically terrifying weapon on the battlefield.
In other words, even in a late-medieval fantasy world, gunpowder weapons weren't out of place at all.
Magic or no magic, technology always follows war and power.
If anything, it was historically accurate for the setting.
The problem?
It was about to become the personal weapon of the Grand Duchess—who might otherwise wield legendary cold steel from Earth's myths.
Bang!
"Gah?!"
"One down."
Grand Duchess Luise casually raised her musket.
The match descended, powder ignited, smoke billowed.
And one bandit dropped.
Right between the eyes.
I swallowed hard without thinking.
She's insanely good?!
Muskets weren't meant to be used like that.
No rifling to spin the shot for stability.
No sights worth mentioning—just a basic notch. Effective range? Maybe a few dozen meters at best.
That's why history's muskets were volley-fire tactical weapons, not sniper rifles.
Even the Brown Bess, the most "modern" musket of the British, stuck to "fire in line, reload, fire again" during the Napoleonic Wars.
18th-century military records bluntly stated you couldn't expect solo hits at 100 meters.
And yet.
Bang!
"What a nuisance."
Another perfect shot between the eyes.
The bandit crumpled through the smoke.
Five shots already?
The musket's notoriously fiddly reload process.
Pour powder, ram shot, tamp with rod, set match—she handled it all as easily as breathing.
Then fire. Always dead between the eyes.
I couldn't match that peak performance even with the K2 from my service days...
Bang.
Perfect finish.
As the smoke cleared, the pass was littered with bandits—slashed by blades or holed in the head.
"When did you get so good with a gun, Your Grace?"
"Similar to Lady Elysia, whom Jinwoo serves. Just talent. Though hers goes beyond talent into destiny, with that hero's bloodline."
It was shortly after routing the bandits, as we reached Libelshtein territory.
Even the lion crest on the gates was different.
Where Valenhardt's castle embraced broadly, this was a fortress of precise lines and angles.
True to a house of gold, the outer walls shunned needless ornament for finely hewn stone, crests and accents sparing but opulent.
No flaunting of wealth.
But no hiding it either.
Roads ran straight, soldiers stood impeccable.
Merchant wagons and metal crates moved briskly, without chaos.
This place was cool, not warm.
But far from weak.
You felt it the moment you entered: the title of Empire's number two wasn't handed out lightly.
Though I was a slave, walking beside Grand Duchess Luise earned me deferential nods from countless servants as we proceeded inside.
Still, my mind lingered on that marksmanship.
A musket—no, a smoothbore—at that accuracy.
"I've had a knack for long-range shooting since childhood."
She said it nonchalantly.
"Even so... isn't a standard musket harder to aim than a soldier's bow in some situations?"
"Heh. Pretty much."
And it was true.
In the late Middle Ages, gunpowder weapons didn't dominate battlefields just because they were "stronger" than bows.
Skilled archers were more accurate, if anything.
Even Joseon's gakgung had an estimated range over 200 meters, with trained shooters effective beyond 100—as recorded in the Muyedobotongji.
And the power was no joke.
At 30-40 meters, it could pierce weak points in iron armor.
It wasn't just "shooting."
Shoot, draw, loose again. Rapid fire.
A master archer could unleash multiple arrows a minute.
While a gunner reloaded one shot, two or three arrows were airborne.
That's why archery was paramount in Joseon's military exams.
It wasn't mere weapon handling—it was the essence of combat prowess.
Bows weren't slow.
Nor weak.
In expert hands, they ruled the field.
Yet muskets displaced bows for one simple reason: training.
Raise an archer? Years, decades from childhood.
A musketeer? Pour powder, ram shot, pull trigger.
Like basic training in the modern ROK Army: weeks to handle a rifle. Gunpowder turned civilians into soldiers fast.
Plus armor penetration was reliable enough, making it tactically superior. Thus ended the cold steel era.
But.
Grand Duchess Luise's shooting transcended all that logic.
Medieval smoothbore musket accuracy like hers—still iffy against top bows.
So what if she wielded this era's pinnacle ranged weapon, a bow?
How far could she reach?
A historian's curiosity got the better of me.
By the time I snapped out of it, my mouth was already moving.
"Then Your Grace must excel at archery too?"
But.
She halted.
Her steps froze mid-stride into the manor.
"...Your Grace?"
Her back stiffened.
I glanced around absently.
That's when it hit.
A decade-plus as Elysia's butler screamed warning.
Maids averted eyes. Soldiers stiffened faces. Air grew subtly heavy.
This was the vibe when you poked a raw nerve.
Silence lingered.
Then.
"I don't do archery."
Short. Dry.
"...I see."
"Yes."
Grand Duchess Luise turned slowly, steps still halted.
"This is a custom musket now—rare. But soon, it'll change battlefields. In decades, maybe a century, bows will be for ceremonies and tradition."
Her gaze flicked to the window.
"Libelshtein always stands at the forefront of change. Gold doesn't stay with guardians of the past—it flows to buyers of the future."
A smile spread.
"Why would the next family head master a dying art?"
Logical. Fitting the house. Flawless.
"More importantly, care for tea? I just spilled blood... throat's parched."
Haughty, leisurely, playfully teasing—as ever.
No different from the face that bantered and laughed with Lady Elysia.
But just now.
I don't do archery.
That flicker in her eyes... off, somehow.
Just for a moment.
In those crimson irises, something indefinable passed.
Not chill. Not anger. If I had to name it... a touch empty?
Or the look of someone recalling something—then shoving it down instantly.
I didn't pry.
No need to shatter the composure she'd just reclaimed.
I just nodded and followed.
Yet oddly, the sunlight spilling into the manor felt a bit colder today.