Returning to Sword Village

The wind and snow were heavy.

When they left Oysast, the sky was clear and blue, but the further north they went, the darker it became. By the time the three of them entered the Schviria Mountains, the leaden clouds had pressed down, and the goose-feather-like snowflakes were whipped into white lashes by the biting wind.

All that remained in my field of vision was a vast expanse of white, and the blurry, silent outlines of distant mountains.

Fern pulled the hood of her newly bought cloak down even further, but tiny snowflakes still managed to get into her collar, bringing a chilling sensation. Her pale purple eyes peered through the swirling snowflakes into the depths of the blizzard.

"There really are villages deep in these mountains." Her breath was instantly dispersed by the wind.

Yes, there are.

Frieren was walking at the front, responded, her silvery-white hair and the edges of her white robe covered in snow. She didn't stop, her emerald eyes fixed on a certain direction ahead, as if she were identifying the path.

Lowell walked between the two, his black hair and shoulders covered with a thin layer of snow. He had his hands in his pockets and walked with a leisurely pace, as if he were simply taking a stroll.

"Almost there."

We walked for a while longer.

The snowstorm seemed to have finally subsided, and visibility ahead improved slightly.

The wooden and stone houses are built against the steep hillside, their roofs covered with thick snow that is almost the same color as the mountain. The dim yellow light shining through the few windows appears particularly warm in the early twilight, yet also particularly lonely and stubborn.

The three approached.

The village was quiet, with only the whistling of the wind through the cracks in the roof.

A few wisps of smoke struggled to rise from the chimneys of different stone houses, drawing subtle yet tenacious traces of human life in this world ruled by ice and snow.

Several villagers peeked out from behind the heavy wooden door and saw them from afar. Their eyes held wariness and scrutiny, but upon recognizing Frieren's signature silver hair, their gazes softened into a deep-seated, relieved anticipation.

The sound of footsteps crunching through the snow made a crisp "crunch, crunch" sound.

Several figures walked briskly from the depths of the village.

The leader was a very young-looking girl. Her straight pink hair was cut into neat bangs and fell smoothly over her shoulders. She wore a thick, dark cotton coat with snow-white fur trim. Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold wind, but she exuded a healthy vitality.

She walked closer, stood on tiptoe, and almost brought her face close to Frieren's. She tilted her head back, her expression one of earnestly trying to Imitation an adult, yet it was all the more endearing because of her childishness.

"We've been waiting for you for quite some time, Lady Frieren."

The sound was clear and crisp, with a touch of childlike charm.

Frieren looked down at her, her emerald eyes blinking.

"Ah, you're the current Village Chief."

The girl lowered her heels, steadied herself, clasped her hands together in front of her in a rather solemn gesture, and nodded.

"That's right. I'm the 49th Village Chief. Because the Village Chief is hereditary."

She paused, then a smile bloomed on her face, creating an endearing contrast to her previous feigned seriousness.

Welcome to the Sword Village.

"Um."

Frieren responded, her gaze sweeping across the edge of the village.

"Outside the village," she pointed in a certain direction, "There are destroyed houses."

The Village Chief glanced in the direction she pointed. There, several ruins of wooden and stone structures were half-hidden under the snow, revealing broken logs torn apart by violence and scattered stones.

"Lady Frieren is referring to the village's old hunting lodge, isn't she?" she explained, her tone regaining its previous seriousness, a maturity beyond her years appearing on her small face. "It was destroyed by the 'Mountain Lord'."

"Mountain Lord?"

Frieren tilted her head, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I've never heard of that before."

"He's probably a new bandit leader; he doesn't know the rules."

Lowell answered casually. He brushed the snow off his shoulders, his gaze falling on the chaotic ruins, a faint hint of understanding flashing in his eyes.

Fern glanced at the Village Chief, then at the collapsed wooden structure in the distance.

"Hmm... So, what does 'Sword Village' mean?"

She asked.

Lowell turned to her and smiled.

"The Sword Village is the village that has always protected the 'Hero's Sword'."

"The sacred area not far from the village... well, it's actually just a rather deep cave with a sword stuck inside. Legend has it that it was a sword bestowed upon true heroes by the Goddess. But for thousands of years, no matter how famous the heroes, no one has been able to pull it out even a fraction of an inch."

His gaze seemed to drift away for a moment, carrying a hint of mockery, yet also a touch of melancholy.

"Even that 'Hero of the South' tried, and he didn't budge an inch."

The Village Chief nodded vigorously, her pink bangs swaying gently with her movements. She puffed out her small chest, her face bearing a proud, childlike air.

"Hmph... that's right!"

She cleared her throat and spoke in a deliberately drawn-out and low voice, as if recounting an ancient legend:

Legend has it that only a hero capable of defeating a cataclysmic disaster capable of destroying the world can draw this Hero's Sword.

Fern blinked.

"Hmm," she murmured, as if talking to herself, or perhaps confirming, "So, it was Himmel who drew that sword and defeated the Demon King?"

Frieren glanced at her but didn't say anything.

Her emerald green eyes calmly shifted, gazing in the direction of the Village Chief's house.

Lowell smiled.

You'll find out later.

Fern puffed out her cheeks, her pale purple eyes filled with "Not again."

"It just keeps you hanging on," she muttered, though she wasn't really unhappy.

The Village Chief's house is not far away.

It was a house that was slightly larger and more sturdier than the other stone houses around it. The walls were made of thick stones, with mortar filling the gaps, and the snow on the roof was swept clean.

The door was open, and a warm, orange-yellow firelight shone from inside.

Please come in.

The Village Chief stepped aside.

Frieren the first to go in.

She went straight to the stone fireplace built into the wall inside the house, sat down on the nearest small wooden stool, and stretched out her hands to touch the leaping flames.

"It's so warm..."

She sighed contentedly, her long, silvery-white hair gleaming softly in the firelight, the snowflakes at the ends Melt quickly into tiny water droplets.

The Village Chief followed him in, then closed the door behind him, shutting out the wind and snow.

Then she walked to a large wooden chair opposite the fireplace, covered with a complete bearskin, turned around, and climbed up on all fours, sinking deep into the soft, warm hide.

Its small body sank deep into the soft animal hide.

She lifted her face and looked at Frieren, who was still sitting by the fireplace, seemingly trying to merge with the flames. Beneath her pink bangs, her eyes were wide open, and her small mouth was tightly pursed.

He clenched his fists and waved them wildly in the air.

"I'm really having a headache, Lady Frieren!"

Her voice rose slightly, carrying an exaggerated "anger" that was an attempt to Imitation the angry tone of an elder, but which, due to its childlike voice, sounded utterly ineffective.

"We clearly promised to come back in half a century!"

She paused, clenched her fists tighter, and raised her chin slightly, trying to create an air of superiority—even though she was deep in the chair and her gaze was not much higher than that of the seated Frieren.

Even someone as mild-mannered as me can't help but get angry!

These words, coupled with her still-childish yet forcedly serious face, and her adorable appearance of being deeply sunken in a large animal-skin chair with only a small section of her thick cotton-padded trousers showing, created a contrast that was hard not to laugh at.

Then, the next second.

The "anger" on her face melted away instantly, like spring snow.

Her pink eyes curved into crescents, and the corners of her mouth turned up, revealing a sweet smile without any gloom. Her voice also returned to its previous clear and steady tone, even carrying a hint of smugness after completing her "mission."

"Above--"

She drew out the words and announced it while swaying her head.

"These are the last words left by the former Village Chief, my most beloved grandmother, who insisted that I relay them word for word!"

Frieren sat by the fireplace, listening without changing her expression, and even moved closer to the flames to let the warmth better envelop her icy fingers.

"I clearly said that back then," her voice came through the warm air, carrying a hint of languor from the firelight, "That coming back eighty years later shouldn't be a problem."

She turned her head and looked at the little pink bundle of joy nestled deep in the chair.

"After all, you who have guarded the Hero's Sword for generations must have no trouble defending yourselves."

She thought for a moment, then added, her tone carrying a hint of "this shouldn't have been done by me."

"Besides, shouldn't this kind of thing be done by Himmel and the others?"

The Village Chief comfortably rubbed his back against the soft fur in the large chair and swung his dangling legs.

"There really isn't a problem," she admitted, her tone relaxed. "Everyone in the village is really strong! They can easily defend against ordinary monsters, but..."

She extended her little index finger and pointed it in the air, her expression becoming serious again.

"An agreement is an agreement, and a duty is a duty. Grandmother said that Lady Frieren is an ally worthy of trust and reliance. This agreement, which has been passed down for so many generations, is itself part of the history of the Sword Village. Therefore, we must fulfill it properly."

Lowell and Fern also came over and sat down on the other two stools by the fireplace.

Lowell rubbed his hands together, feeling the warmth returning to his fingertips, and looked at the Village Chief with a look of distant reminiscence on his face.

"The first time we stepped into this village, the old Village Chief we met had a white beard so long it could be used as a scarf. He must have been the 46th generation, right?"

He squinted, as if looking through the firelight into the distant past.

"That old man is really vigorous for his age, having a child late in life. He looks at least sixty, but when we came back the second time, the Village Chief —his daughter—was only a teenager."

His gaze fell on the small, bright face before him, a face that somewhat overlapped with his memory but was now even more youthful and innocent. He smiled.

"You look just like me. Especially that beautiful pink hair and those eyes."

Upon hearing this, the Village Chief immediately smiled happily, his eyes curving into sweet crescent moons.

"Of course! Everyone says I look most like my grandmother! And my personality is just like hers too!" she announced proudly, then touched her hair a little shyly, "However, my grandmother's hair seems to be a little darker than mine..."

Lowell chuckled, then looked at Frieren beside him, who seemed to be melting in the fireplace, her expression as relaxed as a cat basking in the sun, and spoke with a familiar, gentle teasing tone.

"As for why we're the ones here 'performing our duties'..."

He deliberately dragged out the sound.

"Frieren, it was clearly you who couldn't resist Ruby's 'sincerity' back then. She pitifully said she wanted to accompany her parents on a trip to the Southern Lands, and Himmel was also in a 'key stage' of meeting the parents and consolidating their relationship, so she really couldn't get away. Then you grabbed a whole bunch of so-called 'roadside snacks' from the south and dragged me along on the way."

Frieren was intently warming her hands by the fire when she heard this, and her fingers, which were fiddling with the flames, paused almost imperceptibly for half a second.

She slowly turned her head, her emerald eyes glancing at Lowell, her eyelids drooping slightly, and the corners of her mouth turning down in a subtle, displeased curve.

The expression on his face was less the embarrassment of being exposed and more a complex mix of "why bring up such old stories again" and a little bit of "those snacks were really delicious back then."

"... What 'sincerity'?" she muttered to herself, her gaze drifting to the leaping, dancing orange-red flames, as if she could find the answer within them.

"It's just... as a master, helping my disciple with a small favor. Besides," she paused, her voice even softer, but trying to sound assertive, "I only agreed that one time. You see, this time, I remembered, and I came too."

The last few words were spoken somewhat vaguely.

Lowell looked at her, her face contorted with shame yet stubbornly maintaining her composure, her ears burning even redder as if from the heat. His smile widened, revealing undisguised, knowing indulgence.

"Yes, yes, yes..." He nodded, his tone drawn out, as if echoing some grand declaration.

"But—" he changed the subject, smiling as he looked at Frieren's lips, which tightened instantly, "If I hadn't reminded you, this 'remembering' elf almost forgot about this 'eighty-year promise' on the other side of the snowy mountain, didn't I?"

Frieren's lips visibly pouted, forming a clear, disgruntled curve. She turned her face away, presenting the back of her head to Lowell, but her slightly reddened ears were exposed in the firelight.

"... As if you wouldn't have reminded me." Her voice was muffled, coming from the direction of the fireplace.

Lowell finally couldn't help but chuckle softly. He shook his head, reached out, and gently touched her reddened earlobe with his knuckles, his tone full of helpless tenderness.

"Okay, okay. My mistake. Next time I'll definitely wait until you remember first."

Fern sat beside them, watching their back-and-forth conversation, filled with codes only they understood, a faint smile appearing in her pale purple eyes. She coughed lightly, steer the conversation back to the main topic.

"So," she looked at Frieren had finally turned her face back a little and whose expression had returned to calm, and then at the Village Chief in the chair, "'Duties' specifically refer to? What do we need to do tomorrow?"

Frieren turned her face back to normal, her expression returning to its usual calm, as if the little incident had never happened.

"Yes, the extermination of monsters." She said succinctly.

"The area where this village is located is quite special; every few decades, monster activity becomes more frequent, requiring regular cleanup."

The Village Chief nodded vigorously, his pink hair swaying with his movements.

"That's right, that's right! In recent years, that 'Mountain Lord' who appeared out of nowhere has become increasingly arrogant! He's destroyed our hunting and supply huts, frightened our livestock, and once almost injured a child who went into the mountains to gather herbs! He's absolutely despicable!" She looked at Frieren, her eyes sparkling with trust, "Frieren, will you deal with him tomorrow? Do you need a guide from the village?"

Frieren nodded almost without hesitation.

"Yes, first thing tomorrow morning." She paused, then added, "No need for a guide. I know roughly which valley it frequents."

Upon hearing this, Lowell raised his eyebrows, looked at her, and showed an undisguised expression of admiration on his face. He even raised his hand and clapped in a seemingly serious manner.

"Oh! That's amazing. My Frieren is the best, she's incredibly proactive and doesn't procrastinate at all."

Frieren immediately turned around, her chin slightly raised, a hint of smugness flashing in her emerald eyes. She put her hands on her hips and puffed out her non-existent chest.

"Hmph~" He let out a signature syllable with a touch of pride from his nose.

I hate trouble.

"Therefore, troublesome matters should be resolved as soon as possible."