The Invitation

Upon arriving in the new town, the streets were wider than expected, the stone slabs were worn smooth by footsteps, and the air was filled with the distinctive sulfurous smell of the nearby volcanic area, mixed with cooking smoke and the sounds of people.

The temperature was indeed much higher than in the wilderness we had been traveling through. The wind blowing on our faces wasn't chilling, just a bit dry.

Frieren didn't stop, heading straight for the exit at the other end of the town, her long, silvery-white hair swaying gently in the slightly warm breeze.

"Okay," she said calmly, at her usual pace, "Then let's buy some supplies and head out."

Fern, who was walking slightly behind her, paused for a moment.

She raised her eyes, her pale purple pupils fixed on Frieren's retreating figure, saying nothing. But her gaze, calmly reflecting her master's back, clearly conveyed a few words:

Something's wrong with you.

Fulilian seemed to be aware of the sight behind her. She did not look back, but slowed down her steps and added in her usual tone, even with a bit of old-fashioned emotion.

"Fern, do you know how short a person's life is?"

Fern blinked.

"... Lady Frieren," she began, her voice steady and clear, "You didn't always say that."

Her gaze swept over the signs of the few shops that were open on both sides of the street.

"You always make sure to visit the magic bookstore in every town you go to. Besides, this is a volcanic region; it's warmer than other places, not cold at all. Logically, you should have even more free time."

Frieren stopped and turned around.

She narrowed her emerald eyes slightly, and the corners of her mouth curved upwards in a smile that seemed a little deliberate, as if to say, "I'm explaining this seriously," but her gaze flickered.

"Well," she drawled, "People change..."

Fern looked at her, her pale purple eyes calmly meeting her gaze.

"For an elf," she said softly, her tone flat, "You seem to have changed a little too quickly."

Frieren's ears drooped down slightly.

Just then--

"Da, da, da."

The crisp, rhythmic sound of horses' hooves approached from afar, neither hurried nor slow.

A lavishly decorated four-wheeled carriage, painted dark red and trimmed with gold, came to a steady stop beside the three. The two black horses pulling the carriage had glossy coats and puffed out white steam from their nostrils.

The car door opened.

A man dressed in a well-tailored black butler's uniform, with his hair neatly combed and a calm expression, stepped out of the car with a swift movement. He placed his right hand on his chest and gave an impeccable bow in the direction of Frieren and Lowell. His voice was steady and his tone respectful, yet it carried an unquestionable air.

"You two must be Lady Frieren and Lady Lowell."

Frieren looked at the suddenly appearing butler, her emerald eyes widening slightly before narrowing even further, the forced smile on her lips vanishing completely.

"... ah."

She uttered a short syllable, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.

Too late.

The butler, seemingly oblivious to her whisper, maintained his bow and continued:

"My lord is honored to learn that you two are passing through this area. He hopes to have dinner with you both and extend his hospitality."

He raised his gaze and calmly swept it over the three of them.

"The carriage is ready, please."

Lowell scratched the back of his head, a helpless expression on his face saying, "Here we go again."

"We're busy," he said casually, trying to decline. "We still have a long way to go. Look how late it is, eating will only take up too much time."

The butler's expression remained unchanged, only his posture became slightly lower; his voice remained steady, but the word was repeated clearly:

"The lord says... 'No matter what,' he requests that you two come."

He paused, then added, his gaze seemingly glancing casually at Fern beside him.

"Of course, this young lady may also come along. Guest rooms have been prepared for everyone at the lord's manor."

Frieren's ears drooped completely, looking listless. She glanced at Lowell, her eyes saying, "See? I knew it."

The interior of the carriage appeared more spacious and comfortable than the exterior. It was covered with thick carpets, the seats were soft, and heavy curtains hung over the windows, blocking out the outside view and most of the noise from the streets.

The wheels rolled, heading towards higher ground in the town.

Fern sat by the window, watching the street scene rushing past through the gap in the curtains. After a while, she turned her head to look at Lowell across from her, her pale purple eyes filled with a clear question.

"Lord Lowell," she asked softly, "If you don't want to go, wouldn't it be easier to just refuse?"

Lowell leaned back in his soft chair and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I refused. Didn't you hear what the steward said? He insisted we go 'no matter what.'" He pursed his lips. "Earl Tahe... an old friend. Oh no, that 'old friend' should be dead. This one now should be his grandson, Earl Tahe."

He adopted an even more relaxed posture.

"That Old Tahe was quite the tyrant back then. When we passed through his territory, he pointed his finger at us and demanded that we find his stolen family heirloom sword, or he would throw us—including Himmel and the others who were on their way to fight the Demon King —into the dungeon."

Fern listened quietly.

"And then," Lowell shrugged, his tone ambiguous, a mix of sarcasm and amusement, "I did 'find' that sword. But that thing originally belonged to the Demons, the one Sam has now. I pretended to find it, gave it to that old guy, then took it back, and incidentally stole some gold coins. After all, Demons's sword is theoretically my sword, right? Haha."

"And I even helped them clear out some troublesome monsters in their territory, consider it payment. Hiring the knights to exterminate monsters wouldn't have been cheap, it's life-threatening. That old bastard was so arrogant, and I actually helped him... How about that? I'm really kind, aren't I?"

Fern thought for a moment.

"You mean," she concluded, her voice steady, "That if we don't go this time, the new Earl Tahe will resort to force, just like his grandfather?"

"Who knows," Lowell shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not afraid, but it's still a hassle. I can't really wipe out the city's armed forces, what about the civilians? They can just eat, it's not a big deal."

He turned to Frieren, who was listlessly looking out the window with her arms crossed, and reached out to rub her droopy, pointed ears.

"Alright, alright, Frieren, don't be upset. At least you'll get a decent meal, right? Besides, this Earl Tahe's grandson might be easier to talk to than his grandfather, right?"

Frieren's ears twitched from being rubbed. She slapped his hand away in annoyance, her emerald eyes glancing at him sideways, her little mouth pouting, filled with distrust.

"Eh... I don't believe it." She muttered, her tone certain. "Katherine's granddaughter has the exact same personality as Katherine. The granddaughter of the Village Chief in the Sword Village is also very much like the Village Chief. Earl Tahe..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear.

Lowell coughed twice.

"Ahem, anyway, there's a limit to how overbearing we can be. If all else fails..." He paused, his voice lowering, carrying a hint of nonchalance, "We can just break through the barrier and leave. I doubt he'd dare do anything to us."

The carriage traveled up a gentle slope, and the houses outside the window gradually thinned out, replaced by neatly trimmed trees. In the distance, the outline of a gray-white stone castle appeared in the gradually darkening sky, standing atop the hillside.

Frieren gazed at the approaching castle, sighed softly, and turned her face to the other side of the car window.

Fern withdrew his gaze, sat up straight, placed his hands folded on his knees, and his expression returned to its usual calm, as if he were just going to an ordinary dinner.