Imperial Capital

The capital of the Empire Eisberg was built on a hillside.

The city possesses astonishing layers. At its highest point, the magnificent main city of the royal castle resembles a giant stone crown, its spires piercing straight into the gray sky, becoming the undisputed visual and power center of the entire capital. The buildings are constructed of heavy, dark stone, with rigid and solemn lines, silently overlooking everything below.

Starting from the foot of this "stone crown," the city cascades down the hillside like a waterfall. Countless houses and alleys are densely packed together, layer upon layer. Narrow streets meander like blood vessels, connecting thousands of households, and finally flowing into the wide stone bridge spanning the river.

The river softened the ruggedness of the mountains. The bridge was the only link between the bustling crowd on this side and the distant mountains on the other. Further away, the outline of the rolling mountains merged with the silhouette of the capital city, and low-hanging clouds lingered on the mountainside.

The overall color scheme is somber black, gray, and white, devoid of vibrant colors, with only the interplay of light and shadow and lines of varying shades outlining an incredibly profound silhouette. This diminishes the lively, contemporary feel, but amplifies the historical weight that has been accumulated over countless centuries.

This is more than just a city.

It is magnificent and serene, carrying the desolate desolation unique to the passage of time, silently telling the story of the glory and weight of the Empire Eisberg, and the long and suffocating memories.

And in a corner of this magnificent city—

In a spacious guest room.

Frieren knelt on the carpet beside the rectangular wooden table, her shoulders shrugging slightly in a wronged manner. Her long, silvery-white hair was disheveled and draped over her shoulders, the ends brushing against the dark carpet.

"Hateful..."

Her sobs were muffled in my arms, with a clear nasal tone.

"How despicable... they actually ambushed us at the city gate..."

She lifted her face and vigorously wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her emerald green eyes reflected the light with moisture, and the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose were faintly red.

"I was planning to go on a magical tool shopping spree during the Empire's National Day..." She sobbed, her voice broken, "What does this have to do with me... This mission has nothing to do with me, sob..."

Fern stood beside her, his pale purple eyes lowered quietly as he watched his elf bury her face in her knees.

"Lady Frieren is so sad..."

Ruby immediately crouched down beside Frieren, reached out, and gently patted her back. Her fiery red curls swayed gently with the movement.

"Lady Frieren, don't cry," she said softly, her voice almost coaxing. "Once this is all over, Ruby's house has a lot of magic books they've recently collected. They're all for you, okay, okay..."

Frieren sniffed, without looking up.

"Kindness..."

Lowell walked over and knelt down in front of Frieren. He reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Alright, alright, Frieren, don't cry," his voice was softer than usual, "It'll be over soon, I promise, it won't be too troublesome. The magical tools will definitely be there, they won't run away..."

Frieren finally raised her head, her emerald green eyes glistening with tears, brimming with a hint of moisture about to spill over.

"I originally..." she pouted, her voice filled with deep grievance, "I originally planned to start buying from the first day of National Day and continue until the last day of National Day..."

"Uh... I'll definitely buy it." Lowell scratched his head, giving him a "I can't do anything with you" look.

"Give Sense some face for now, we're rich now anyway." He held up one finger, confidently declaring, "My clone has already set off on a massive shopping spree. I don't care if it's useful or not, I'll just buy it all up first!"

He leaned closer, his dark eyes gleaming with certainty.

"When I have time later, you—my Frieren —can pick whatever you want! Take as much as you like!"

Frieren blinked.

Her long, still damp eyelashes trembled.

"Real?"

"Really, really! If I'm lying, may Serie chase me and beat me up for a hundred years! And I won't even be able to fight back!"

Frieren stared at him for a few seconds.

Then, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a little slower than before. Next, she supported herself on her knees and slowly stood up. The fabric rustled softly as her knees left the carpet.

"Oh well."

She spoke softly, her voice still a little muffled and nasal, but her emotions had clearly calmed down.

The perspective widens.

On the other side of the room.

Sense and Falsh stood side by side.

Sense wore a dark, almost inky black mage robe, her long brown hair reaching her ankles, the ends resting quietly on the ground. Her eyelids drooped, her face expressionless, with a faint weariness reminiscent of someone chronically sleep-deprived. She held an unfolded map in her hand, her gaze calmly fixed on the intricate lines.

"This mission will be carried out jointly by nine First-Class Mages," she began, her voice calm, indifferent, and without inflection. "It is a large-scale, high-level joint mission."

She raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping across the room and landing on Frieren, who had already stood up, but whose eyes were still slightly red.

"Lady Frieren, you are now First-Class Mage. Logically, you should accept this summons."

She paused for a moment, seemingly giving the other person half a second to process this "ought to be".

"Please be patient for now. I will explain the situation as soon as possible. After that, you will be free to move around."

Fern's gaze quietly swept over the few people in the room. She tilted her head slightly, counting the number of people.

"Nine First-Class Mages?"

She spoke softly, as if checking a list.

"Frieren, Lady Ruby, Miss Methode, Miss Sense, Mr. Falsh, and myself... there are only six of us present."

Falsh the round-framed glasses on his nose. He was wearing the same dark-colored stand-up collar uniform as Sense, and stood ramrod straight, meticulous in every detail.

"Lanto and Ubel's two-man team have already set off to conduct preliminary intelligence gathering," he added, his voice clear and steady. "In addition, Brugge is also among those conscripted. He will arrive with Lady Serie. We are the advance team."

"Brugge...?" Lowell scratched his head, looking a little confused, then suddenly realized, "Oh, right... it's that 'Unshakable Garment,' isn't it? I remember now."

Sense gently laid the map in his hand on the rectangular wooden table in the center of the room. The ink lines on it were fine and intricate, outlining the interior floor plan of a vast palace.

"Now, let's formally explain the mission."

With her slender fingertips, she precisely pointed to the center of the map—a magnificent hall that was specially bolded and marked with numerous symbols.

"As you all know, the Empire Eisberg is currently celebrating its National Day."

Her fingertip moved slightly to the left, landing on a smaller, star-marked spot on one side of the hall.

"On the last day of National Day, three days from now, a grand ball, the talk of the entire continent, will be held in the palace. All the most important figures within the Empire and the Northern Countries are invited and will attend."

"Lady Serie, as the highest representative of the Continental Magic Association, is also among those invited and will attend this ball."

Frieren had already sat down in the armchair next to her. Her hands were folded on her knees, and her expression had returned to its usual calm, except for the faint redness at the corner of her eyes, which was still subtle evidence of the turmoil of emotions that had just passed.

"So what?"

She asked, her voice clear and calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.

"Are we being sent to protect Serie?"

Sense nodded.

"That's right." Falsh stepped forward, walking to the table. "According to the latest intelligence report from Linel, who has long been engaged in espionage in the Empire, there is a possibility that Lady Serie was assassinated at the ball."

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a brief moment after those words were spoken.

Only from outside the window could one faintly hear the distant and indistinct clamor of the imperial capital before a celebration.