Entering the City

"Want to go see her?" Lowell asked. "We're passing by, after all."

Frieren pursed her lips. She kicked a pebble out of the road and watched it roll into the grass beside it.

"See that old hag?" she muttered, quietly but clearly enough. "What a pain..."

Lowell chuckled softly.

"She might want to see if you've grown taller," he said.

"I'm over a thousand years old. I'm not getting any taller," Frieren said irritably, pouting. "Besides, the last time we met, she said, 'You're still so short.'"

"That was eighty years ago."

"Close enough for me."

That was true. For elves, the difference between eighty years and eight months was sometimes not much greater than the difference between eight years and eight weeks in human eyes.

The road gradually widened, and more travelers appeared. Merchant wagons rumbled past, donkeys laden with goods jingled their bells, and farmers carrying tools headed toward the fields. Everyone was going in the same direction—Central City.

As noon approached, they stopped to rest in the shade of a tree by the road.

Frieren took out the apple pie the landlady had given them, broke it in half, and handed the larger piece to Lowell. The pie was still warm, and the scents of cinnamon and apple mingled together.

"Why did she establish the Magic Association again?" Frieren suddenly asked, taking a bite of pie.

"Hm?" Lowell hadn't heard her clearly.

"Serie," Frieren said. "She used to hate Flamme's idea of 'everyone being able to use magic' most of all. She said it was an insult to geniuses by the mediocre."

Lowell chewed his pie slowly. The sweetness of the syrup melted on his tongue.

"People change," he said.

"Elves don't," Frieren said. "Especially not that stubborn old hag."

"Maybe she found a new pleasure."

"What pleasure?"

"The pleasure of watching a bunch of self-important youngsters hit a wall in front of her," Lowell said. "Or occasionally finding one or two truly interesting geniuses and personally tormenting them until they cry. Or carrying on her own apprentice's legacy?"

Frieren imagined the scene, and the corners of her mouth curved up involuntarily.

"That does sound like something she'd do," she said.

After resting, they continued on their way. The afternoon sun grew scorching, and scattered houses appeared along both sides of the road, followed by an unbroken line of shops and tavern signs. Central City's walls were now clearly visible. Flags bearing the Magic Association's emblem—crossed staffs and stars—fluttered above the grayish-white stone walls.

A line had formed at the city gate. The guards were checking travelers' luggage, but when they saw Lowell and Frieren, they gave them only a cursory glance before waving them through.

"A mage? An elf?" one of the guards asked, his gaze falling on Frieren's pointed ears.

Frieren said nothing.

"Yes, we're travelers. We could also be wanderers, or pioneers," Lowell replied.

The guard nodded and asked no more questions.

As they passed through the gate, a wave of noise washed over them. Central City's streets were wider than those of any town they had passed through before. Shops lined both sides of the stone-paved road, selling everything from everyday odds and ends to rare magic materials. Pedestrians jostled shoulder to shoulder, including many young people in mage robes, with apprentice badges of different colors pinned to their chests.

The most striking sight was the tower at the center of the city.

It rose above every other building, its pure white walls almost dazzling in the sunlight. Its spire disappeared into the clouds, and light occasionally flashed at its top, like stars twinkling in the daytime.

"That's the association's headquarters," a fruit vendor by the road volunteered when he saw them looking up. "The Tower of the Firmament. They say you can touch the clouds from the top. But only mages formally recognized by the association can go inside. Apprentices can only study in the surrounding buildings."

Frieren stared at the tower and narrowed her eyes.

"They added levitation magic," she said quietly. "And at least three layers of barriers. Ostentatious and wasteful of mana."

Lowell smiled. "Not quite her style, but it's the public face of the place."

They found an inn in the city and took a room. This time, their room was on the second floor, and its window faced the side of the distant tower. After putting down their luggage, Frieren sat by the window, rested her chin on her hand, and gazed at the tower.

Lowell boiled some water and brewed the tea leaves he had bought on the way. The fragrance of tea filled the room.

"Go now?" Frieren asked, still looking out the window.

"Tomorrow," Lowell said, handing her a cup of tea. "Let's rest today."

Frieren took the cup and blew on the steaming tea. She sipped it, never taking her eyes off the tower. A window somewhere on its walls suddenly lit up, then another, as though someone were lighting lamps floor by floor.

"She knows, doesn't she?" Frieren said. "That we're here."

"Probably."

"Then she must be waiting to see when we'll go see her." Frieren curled her lip. "She might even have made a bet on whether I'll put it off until the last moment."

"Are you going to let her win?"

"No." Frieren put down her cup and stood up. "We're going now."

Lowell was a little surprised. "Now?"

"Mm." Frieren straightened her collar and brushed her silver hair behind her ears. "Before I change my mind."

She walked to the door, then stopped and looked back at Lowell.

"Aren't you coming?"

Lowell put down his cup. "I thought you wanted to see her alone. Besides, I don't want to see her either."

"Together," Frieren said, as though it went without saying. "It's always been that way."

Lowell paused, then stood up.

"All right," he said. "Together."

The two left the inn and joined the flow of people on the evening streets. The closer they got to the tower, the more people they saw in mage robes. Young apprentices hurried past with heavy books in their arms, discussing magical theory. Several people who looked like full-fledged mages stood talking on a street corner, the silver embroidery on their cuffs glinting in the setting sun.

At the base of the tower stood an entrance with two enormous bronze doors. They were tightly shut, their surfaces covered in flowing magical runes. Two guards stood before them in silver armor, the staffs they held topped with sparkling crystals.

Armor and staffs. Battle mages? Lowell thought.

When they saw Lowell and Frieren approaching without mage robes, one of the guards stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, the Tower of the Firmament isn't open to the public," he said, his tone polite but firm. "If you have business here, please go to the reception hall on the east side..."

He stopped speaking.

For at that moment, the bronze doors silently swung inward.

There was no sound of a mechanism turning, no surge of mana. It was as though the immensely heavy doors had merely been left ajar and gently pushed open. Beyond them was not the tower's interior, but a soft radiance through which nothing could be clearly seen.

The guard froze. He looked back at his companion, and both stared in astonishment.

Frieren sighed.

"She loves doing this," she said to Lowell. "Putting on a mysterious show."

With that, she stepped into the light. Lowell nodded to the guards and followed her in.

The moment the light swallowed them, the bronze doors silently closed again.

The guards stared at the tightly shut doors and looked at each other.

"Just now..." the younger one began. "They were..."

"No one," the older guard said quietly, tightening his grip on his staff. "We didn't see a thing. Understood?"

"Y-yes."

Inside the tower, the light faded.

Before them was a long spiral staircase winding up along the tower's inner wall, with no end in sight. The walls on either side were smooth white stone, and at regular intervals, floating crystal lamps cast a steady, cold light.

There were no windows or doors, only the way up, and up, and up again.

Frieren looked up, then began climbing the stairs.

Lowell followed behind her. The staircase was wide enough for four or five people to walk abreast. Their footsteps echoed through the silence, steady and clear.

After about ten minutes of climbing, Frieren spoke:

"She's doing this on purpose."

"What?"

"These stairs," Frieren said, her breathing perfectly steady. "There's no need for them at all. There's a teleportation array in the tower. She just wants us to climb."

"Maybe she's at the top of the tower."

"She could open the teleportation array at the top, too," Frieren said. "She just likes watching other people struggle up the stairs. Nasty old hag."

"Mm, maybe it makes things feel more ceremonial, or gives people writing essays something to ponder about the author's deeper meaning. Like, 'Analyze why the tower's owner built such a tall tower without installing an elevator.'"

They climbed for another twenty minutes. The staircase seemed endless, and the scenery around them never changed—white walls, crystal lamps, and the curve spiraling upward.

Just as Frieren was about to complain again, they reached the end of the stairs.

Before them was an ordinary wooden door, with no decoration whatsoever. It stood ajar, warm orange light shining through the gap.

Frieren stopped. She took a deep breath, then reached out and pushed the door open.