Triumph

The harsh winter in the Northern Frontier was finally showing signs of fatigue. Although the snow had not yet melted, the wind carried a subtle, almost imperceptible, damp scent of early spring. The dust of war settled faster than anyone had anticipated.

Led by Lupa, Linié, and Solitär— three "non-human" beings with combat abilities far exceeding those of ordinary people—the army of the Nasser Kingdom swept through the land with unstoppable momentum.

Resistance? Faced with an absolute disparity in power, the word seemed pale and powerless. The remaining forces of the Marcus Kingdom melted and disintegrated rapidly like snow under the scorching sun. A war of annexation that could have dragged on for years and resulted in rivers of blood was brought to an end in just three months.

Defeat, surrender, reckoning, integration... everything proceeded smoothly under King Anthony's efficient and just rule. The nobles and officers who had to pay the price for their past atrocities were tried, while the coerced soldiers and enslaved people were liberated and resettled.

A large number of soldiers who originally belonged to Anthony but were captured or scattered during the Marcus War were successfully rescued and reunited under the banner of the Red Griffin. The kingdom's territory expanded several times over, but more importantly, a long-lost order and hope sprouted anew on this wounded land.

On this day, Nasser Royal Capital welcomed a grand triumphant return ceremony.

The streets were packed with cheering crowds, and flowers rained down on the marching army. Sunlight shone on their freshly polished armor, reflecting a dazzling light. The soldiers stood tall and proud, their faces showing weary yet undeniably proud smiles as they basked in the well-deserved glory.

The cheers from the crowd reached their peak when those few figures appeared in the procession.

"Lady Lupa! Look this way!"

"Lady Linié! Thank you!"

"And Solitär! Thank you for saving our child!"

Cheers were mixed with genuine gratitude. People already knew that these "reinforcements" were extraordinary, but thanks to His Majesty Anthony's intentional or unintentional guidance, their tangible achievements, and the friendly attitude they displayed, fear had long been replaced by gratitude and curiosity.

Lupa's pink twin ponytails swayed gently. Her heterochromatic eyes flickered with a hint of embarrassment, but more so with excitement from being infected by this enthusiasm and a touch of barely perceptible shyness.

She tried to maintain a stern expression to preserve her warrior's dignity, but the corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn up. Mimicking how Himmel responded to the crowd in her memory, she waved somewhat awkwardly, eliciting an even more enthusiastic response. She whispered to Linié, who was walking beside her, "It feels... not bad."

Linié remained calm and composed, her deep blue eyes sweeping indifferently over the cheering crowd, as if the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with her.

She would only occasionally glance at Lupa's slightly flushed profile, linger for a moment, and then silently look away. She didn't reach out to catch the flowers thrown to her, letting them slip by her side, as if this human enthusiasm were merely a natural phenomenon to be observed.

Solitär, however, was no longer in the procession. This Great Demons lacked patience for orderly parades; like a curious research fanatic, she weaved along the edges of the crowd, seizing every opportunity to strike up a conversation with passersby.

She approached an elderly woman who was excitedly wiping away tears, and asked in a cheerful tone, "Madam, you're crying because you saw the army return. What are the components of these tears: 'joy,' 'fortune,' or 'sad memories'? What are the proportions of each? Could you describe in detail your feelings at this moment? How does this collective emotional outpouring demonstrate its social cohesion?"

The old woman was bewildered by Solitaire's barrage of questions, but looking at Solitär's innocent (seemingly) pure smile, she choked out, "I... I'm so happy... my son... he's back alive..."

"Oh! Tears of 'joy'! Because a relative is alive!" Solitär's eyes lit up, and she quickly pulled out a small notebook from somewhere and started jotting it down, muttering to herself, "Emotional trigger: Confirmation of the survival of an individual linked by blood..."

She then turned to a father who was placing a small flower wreath on his daughter's head. "Sir! May I ask whether this material reward you give to your descendants on Victory Day (pointing to the wreath) is out of Imitation or some kind of intergenerational transmission of celebration? What kind of emotional experience or value formation do you hope your daughter will gain from it?"

The father paused for a moment, then smiled sheepishly, "Oh? There's no such thing as passing down traditions; it's just about having fun and letting the kids be happy too."

"Simple sharing of joy... lacking complex motivations..." Solitär said with a smile to the little girl as she took notes, "Little sister, I'm Demons."

The little girl blinked her big eyes, looking curiously at the horns on her head, and said in a childish voice, "I know! Father said you're the good Demons sister who helps us fight off the bad guys!"

Solitär recorded the data, a hint of surprise flashing in her pale green eyes before turning into even greater research interest. "'Good Demons'... a classification standard based on behavioral outcomes, rather than racial attributes themselves. An interesting data point."

Lowell and Frieren, of course, didn't participate in the parade. Instead, they stood on a terrace high up in the palace, overlooking the grand spectacle below. Lowell watched Solitär moving about in the crowd, smiled, and asked Solitär, who had somehow wandered up to him, "How was it? After walking around, did you notice even a tiny bit of the possibility of 'coexistence'?"

Solitär put away her invisible little notebook, tilted her head, and showed a complex expression that mixed data analysis and preliminary approval. "Hmm... perhaps. His Majesty Anthony's discourse on 'bottom line' and His Majesty Marcus... well, the pure egoism shown by the former Majesty provide two very different samples of 'royalty'."

The feedback pattern of ordinary people, based on direct interests (survival, food and clothing) and simple emotions (family affection, gratitude), although with a short logical chain, seems... more stable than I imagined. At least, under the premise of 'non-direct threat' and 'bringing practical benefits,' their acceptance of 'outsiders' seems to have a manageable degree of flexibility. It's worth further observation."

"If you could see a future where, before Macht died, the people of the territory he protected asked him, 'Lord Macht! What happened to you!' you would probably have more faith in the possibility of 'coexistence'."

"Really? Did that guy succeed too?"

"Who knows? Judging from the future outcome, he succeeded, but he still didn't possess human emotions; he only gained human trust on his own."

"That's truly a pity. I was actually planning to kill him..."

"Even if you were right in front of him, you wouldn't dare to attack. Who told you to be such a cowardly and afraid-to-die Great Demons? That guy is no weaker than you; you might not be able to win."

"Hehe... You really know me well. Just how far into the future do you see?"

That night, a grand victory banquet was held at the palace. Although it was not as extravagant as those of the Central Lands, it still represented the utmost sincerity that the kingdom could offer. The atmosphere of the banquet was lively, but Anthony soon moved to a more private side room with only his closest confidants.

The hall was warm with firelight, and the atmosphere was tranquil. Anthony gestured to his servants to bring in two small chests. One chest, when opened, contained neatly stacked gold coins and several exquisite jewels, gleaming in the firelight. The other chest was slightly larger, filled with various books and scrolls of different materials and with antique covers, exuding a faint scent of ink and a magical aura.

"Lowell, Frieren, and all of you," Anthony's voice was solemn, "the Nasser Kingdom's survival and rebirth are entirely due to your tremendous help. These treasures, mostly plundered from the Marcus Kingdom, are insufficient to repay even a fraction of your kindness, but they represent the Kingdom's goodwill, and we urge you to accept them."

Lowell glanced at the chest of treasure, shook his head, and said casually but firmly, "Your Majesty, these should be left for the reconstruction of the kingdom. Towns need repair, refugees need resettlement, and fallen soldiers need compensation—money is needed everywhere. We don't need much of this, and besides, Frieren and I have already eaten and drunk quite a bit for free."

A flicker of emotion crossed Anthony's eyes. He knew what this meant to a kingdom that had just emerged from war, and he didn't press the matter further. His gaze shifted to the box of magic books. "In that case, these magical tomes might be more useful to you. These are treasures collected by my royal family over generations, as well as some items inventoried from Marcus's treasury. While I wouldn't dare say they're exceptionally rare, perhaps some will catch your eye."

Frieren had initially shown little interest in the banquet and was nibbling on dessert when she saw the box of books, her emerald eyes instantly lighting up. She put down her silver spoon, walked to the box, knelt down, and began to carefully peruse the books.

Her movements were focused and swift, her fingertips gliding across the pages as if she could directly perceive the value of the contents. She ignored many seemingly powerful books or those containing profound spells, instead taking an interest in books that recorded obscure and rare magic.

In the end, she picked out three books.

The first book had a cover of some kind of dark brown leather and no title. When she picked it up, there seemed to be a faint rustling sound between the pages. "The Fabric Expansion and Material Transformation Magic," Frieren read softly, uttering the title written in an ancient language, explaining to Lowell, "This can make clothes fit perfectly forever and can change the appearance and even the material of fabric at will, such as turning linen into silk... It will save a lot of trouble when traveling." Judging from her shining eyes, she was clearly fed up with the inconveniences of travel.

The second book was a thin scroll, seemingly made of some kind of silver leaf, exuding a cool fragrance. "Ice Crystal Preservation and Flavor Constancy," she paused, then added, "Can be used to preserve food for a long time... especially the flavor of desserts, and should be even better than the preservation magic we used before." The reason was so straightforward it was almost comical.

The third book was a palm-sized booklet with a cover carved from some kind of pale purple wood, covered in twisted patterns. "The Bubble-Blowing Compendium," Frieren's lips seemed to curve into a barely perceptible smile, "It can conjure bubbles that last a long time and have various scents... Sounds quite entertaining."

Clutching the three books, she sat back down beside Lowell, clearly satisfied that her help had been well worth it. As for the box of gold coins, she hadn't glanced at it again. To her, the spellbooks were far more valuable than gold, and magic that could improve her quality of life was priceless. Although she liked desserts, it was merely a hobby, not a hobby.

Anthony chuckled as he looked at Frieren's choice, gaining a deeper understanding of the personalities of these "eccentric individuals." He solemnly declared, "The gates of the Nasser Kingdom will always be open to you. You will forever be the kingdom's most honored friends and benefactors. This Honorary Nobility and the title of Chief Court Mage will remain valid as long as the kingdom exists."

"Thank you. However, there is indeed a matter I need to ask Your Majesty..."

The banquet drew to a close in a harmonious atmosphere. The fireplace was warm, the dust had settled, and the past misunderstandings and disputes seemed to have vanished with the wind. The soft rustling of turning pages and the faint strains of songs celebrating new beginnings drifting from outside the window quietly brewed something in the warm night.

Thank you everyone for your support (づ￣3￣)づ╭❤~ I don't have many drafts left o(╥╥)o