[Possible Space-Time] Provocation and Surveillance

The benches along the street were cut into strips of light and shadow by the shadows of the trees.

Frieren and Sein sat side by side, watching the endless stream of pedestrians on the street in front of them.

"As expected, I can't find it."

Frieren spoke, her voice flat.

There's no other way.

Sein turned to look at her. He leaned against the bench, one arm draped over the back, looking relaxed, but his eyes were clear.

"Frieren, you're going to infiltrate that National Day Ball next, right?"

"Um."

Can I come with you?

Frieren turned her face, her emerald green eyes meeting his gaze. She looked at Sein two seconds, then nodded.

"Of course. With monks around, the group will feel more at ease."

Sein smiled, but when he spoke next, his tone was more serious than before.

"I will do everything I can to help you. So..."

"Sorry, Sein."

Frieren's voice was soft, but every word was clear.

"I can't guarantee you anything. The Shadow Warriors is no match for someone who will show mercy."

She tapped her fingers lightly on her knee, a very subtle movement.

"Fern's safety is more important to me. I won't and can't afford to hold back in the fight. But I'll try my best to make things go in the right direction."

Sein listened quietly.

"... Yeah."

He said it in a low voice, then nodded.

"That's enough. To be honest, I'm a little surprised. I heard from Sense that you were dragged into this mission, and I thought you'd be more... unwilling. But it seems you're quite motivated."

"No. I don't care about any plan to assassinate Serie. To be honest, escaping is the best option."

Her voice lowered.

"But this country... was left behind by Flamme."

She lowered her head slightly, the evening light casting shadows of her eyelashes on her face.

"Although almost all the evidence that can prove Master's existence is now fake—the statues don't look like her, and most of the Spellbook are counterfeit—the country where 'everyone can use magic' truly exists."

She looked up at the magical streetlights shining in the twilight. The twinkling lights formed a warm, shimmering ocean.

"So, I want to give it a try. At least, to make things look a little better."

After she finished speaking, she paused for a few seconds, then added a sentence with a hint of helplessness in her voice.

"... This is something that Serie, who craves war, could never do. That girl is probably already thinking of making a move."

Sein turned his face away.

"Want to make a move? Against whom?"

Frieren did not answer. She stood up, the hem of her white robe brushing against the surface of the bench.

"Never mind."

She said.

"Let's go first."

Sein stood up as well. As soon as they turned around, they saw Fern and Red Hair walking towards them from the other end of the street. Fern was carrying a small paper bag containing freshly bought, still steaming roasted chestnuts.

The four met up and slowly walked along the street. Fern handed the paper bag to Frieren, Frieren took it, took out a chestnut, and carefully peeled it open.

"No progress."

"I'm speaking," Fern said, her voice steady. Her pale purple eyes swept across the street, lingering for a moment on a few pedestrians who looked somewhat suspicious, before looking away.

Frieren put the peeled chestnuts into her mouth and chewed slowly. The chestnuts were sweet and still warm.

"Hmm." She swallowed a chestnut. "And we even deliberately created an opening, trying to lure them into making the first move..."

There wasn't much disappointment in her tone; it sounded more like she was stating a fact.

Fern turned his head to look at her.

"Lady Frieren is getting a little impatient too."

Frieren's fingers, which were peeling chestnuts, paused for a moment. She blinked, her emerald eyes glancing at Fern, before she looked away slightly.

"... Yeah."

She whispered, "I admit it."

"I'm sorry, Fern. I admit, I was a bit..."

She tossed the chestnut shells into a roadside trash can and patted the crumbs off her hands.

"After all, this is Flamme's 'legacy'..."

She raised her hand and pointed to the bright windows on both sides of the street. Behind almost every window, one could see the steady glow of a magic lamp, or residents using simple Levitation Magic to organize their belongings, or children playing games with Faint Light Magic.

Let's organize the clues.

Frieren withdrew her hand, her tone returning to its usual calm.

"In the Imperial Capital, there are two people who pose the greatest threat to us. One is the commander of the Shadow Warriors — Linel has no information about him; she doesn't even know what he looks like or what his name is."

"And another person... has been hiding in the shadows, watching us. No, it should be said that they are indiscriminately watching the entire Imperial Capital."

Fern nodded, his expression serious.

"Hmm. Come to think of it, it's true. Ever since we entered the Imperial Capital, Lady Frieren has said she felt like she was being watched."

"Hmm," Frieren said, "Just now, Serie's magical perception covered the entire Imperial Capital. Did you feel it?"

Fern was silent for a moment, seemingly sensing something. Then she nodded gently.

"Yes, although I don't know if it was Serie's magic, I did feel as if I was swept by a tremendous power. It was a kind of... uncomfortable feeling, like I was completely seen through."

"Any skilled mage would probably react the same way you did," Frieren said. "But even so, for Serie's power, she made it far too obvious. This wasn't probing; it was a declaration. There's no doubt she did it on purpose."

She raised her eyes and looked towards the palace complex in the center of the Imperial Capital. Further away, a very tall tower was reduced to a dark silhouette in the twilight.

"Serie is provoking us. In the most direct way, the target of her provocation is very likely the person who has been hiding behind the scenes, watching everything."

High up, at the edge of the flat roof of a building.

Serie sat there, barefoot and dangling in the air. The night wind was strong, making her long golden hair fly wildly behind her, and her white petticoat clung tightly to her body, outlining her slender figure.

A smug, almost unrestrained smile graced her face. Her lips curled up, her eyes narrowed slightly, and she exuded an arrogant aura that said, "I'm right here, what can you do to me?"

The magic she unleashed was like a raging tsunami, sweeping across every inch of the Imperial Capital with its ruthlessness, dominance, and utter indifference. Every being sensitive to magic was forced to feel that powerful presence, one that was blatantly provocative.

She sat there, smiling, gazing down at the brightly lit metropolis.

At the same time, in a spacious office on a high floor of a certain building.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows occupy an entire wall, offering views of the Imperial Capital's nightscape. With the windows closed, the interior is softly lit and so quiet that you can hear the rhythmic ticking of a clock.

Fres stood by the window.

She wore a crisp, dark blue Empire Army, her short blonde hair neatly tied back in a low ponytail. A pair of frameless pince-nez glasses perched on her nose, and behind the lenses, her golden eyes gazed calmly out the window, her gaze seemingly unfocused, yet as if she had taken in the entire outline of the Imperial Capital.

She didn't move; even the rise and fall of her breath was barely perceptible.

She had certainly sensed the violent magical fluctuations that had swept across the city. But her expression remained unchanged; not even her eyelashes trembled. She simply stood there, like a sculpture carved from ice.

The office door was gently pushed open.

Kanon walked in.

He stopped a few steps behind Fres and stood still.

"Captain Fres."

His voice rang out in the quiet room, steady and clear.

"Security arrangements for the ball are complete. Deployment in all areas has been confirmed."

Fres did not turn around. Her gaze remained fixed on the window, on the flowing lights and the blurry outline of the palace in the distance.

"I've already spoken to the higher-ups." She spoke, her voice low, carrying the cold, hard quality cultivated from years of issuing commands, each word sounding precisely measured. "During the National Day Ball, the Magical Special Forces are free to move about. You can focus on carrying out your mission."

Kanon was silent for a moment. The pause was brief, but it was remarkably noticeable in the quiet room.

What is the task you mentioned?

He asked, his tone still calm, but his choice of words was very careful.

"Our orders are to maintain order in and around the ball area..."

Fres slowly turned around. Her face bore the deep lines etched by time, but her expression was one of near-absolute peace, which instead exuded an even heavier sense of pressure.

"That's right." Her tone was matter-of-fact, as if stating a truth as clear as the rising and setting of the sun. "If it weren't for this mission, how could soldiers like us, with blood on our hands, possibly walk into those magnificent halls and mingle among nobles and diplomats?"

She looked at Kanon, her golden eyes calm and still through her glasses.

Kanon lowered his head slightly.

"No."

"Very well." Fres turned back to the window, her back to him. "Kanon, the ball is a symbol of peace. It is a stage for the empire to display its prosperity and stability. I will not allow any shadow to taint this splendid curtain. Shadow Warriors... or anything else that is out of place, whoever sets foot there and tries to disrupt this grand event, must be eliminated."

"I see."

"Hmm," Fres responded. "Then, regarding 'maintaining order'... you must remember, in these situations, with crowds gathering, 'accidents' always accompany the feast. It's a matter of probability, difficult to eradicate. And as maintainers, our duty is to make the 'decisions' that best serve the Empire's interests when 'accidents' occur."

Kanon raised his eyes and looked at Fres's back. Her figure was tall and straight, standing in front of the huge French window. Outside the window was the night view of the entire Imperial Capital, as if she alone separated the absolute order inside the window from the chaos outside.

"You mean... you want the so-called 'unexpected' situation to happen?"

Fres did not answer immediately.

She raised her hand and gently pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose with her gloved fingertips. The movement was elegant, with a mechanically precise calmness.

"You have a question for me, don't you, Kanon?"

Kanon did not deny it.

"Yes. When the people of the Continental Magic Association and the remnants of the Shadow Warriors clash in the Imperial Capital... especially in a setting like a ball, how should we respond? From what stand should we intervene? Where exactly is the line between judgment and action?"

Fres lowered her hand. She remained with her back to him, gazing out the window.

"The laws of the Empire are clearly written, Kanon. No other form of killing is permitted on this land except for legitimate military intervention by the Empire itself—through the hands of those granted authority—and any unauthorized violence is a challenge to the Imperial order."

Kanon listened in silence.

"Therefore, when illegal violence occurs," Fres continued, her voice as steady as reciting a decree, "Our duty is to stop it. To enforce Judgment according to the sole law of the Empire, regardless of who the perpetrators are, and regardless of the noble or tragic names they may give them."

"I understand," Kanon said. "At that time, we will intervene and Judgment on both sides of the conflict under the pretext of 'upholding imperial law and public safety.'"

Fres finally turned around again.

"Kanon."

She called his name.

"Remember your place, and understand your position."

She spoke slowly, each word like a cold rivet hammering into the silent air.

"Then, make the right choice."

After she finished speaking, she turned her head back to look out the floor-to-ceiling window.

"It's all for the eternal magic of the empire."