Fern

With the new map to guide them, Lorenzo and Frieren had no trouble leaving the Holy City through the east gate and entering the forest.

But that didn't mean their difficulties were over. If anything, they were only beginning.

In the city, they could at least ask passersby for directions if they got lost. Outside the city, there might not be anyone to help them.

Lorenzo put away the map, which was no longer any use, and looked ahead.

There, the path forked in two directions, and Frieren stood in the middle, wearing the exact same thoughtful expression she had worn in the Holy City.

That ominous feeling returned.

"We should go this way."

Lorenzo had no choice. He didn't know the roads at all, so he could only follow Frieren. The two walked along the forest path for a long time.

As they went deeper, the trees around them grew denser, and the once fairly broad path was gradually swallowed up by weeds. In the end, all that remained of the supposed path was a faint trace of bare earth.

Lorenzo grew increasingly suspicious that they were simply heading deeper into the forest. He wondered whether, when they reached the end, he would let out a soft sigh and look back on the past...

Just then, a faint fluctuation of mana came from nearby.

"It's attack magic."

Frieren's expression grew a little more serious.

"Is someone fighting?"

"Probably not. There's no killing intent in the mana, and the intervals between each casting are about the same."

Frieren sensed it carefully for a while. Rather than a fight, it seemed more like someone was carrying out some kind of tedious practice.

The two exchanged a glance, then left the path and headed toward the source of the mana.

After they passed through a dense thicket, the ground ahead began to rise, and the soil beneath their feet gradually gave way to hard rock. Once they pushed aside the branches blocking their way, the view suddenly opened up.

The forest came to an abrupt end here.

Ahead was a bottomless cliff. Howling mountain winds surged up from the gorge below, bending the grass and trees low in the same direction. On the other side stood a grayish-white boulder as large as a house.

And at the edge of the cliff stood a young girl.

The girl looked no older than eight or nine. Her long purple hair streamed in the wind, and she wore a plain long dress. Both hands were gripping a magic wand far too large for her.

Fern?

Lorenzo recognized the girl at a glance.

It seemed that if the wind blew any harder, it could send her straight over the edge.

But she seemed completely unaware of the danger at her feet, staring intently at the boulder across the gorge.

A faint glow of mana gathered at the tip of her wand.

The next moment, a beam of white light shot across the cliff toward the boulder. It was about to hit its target, but halfway there, the beam suddenly flickered, and the mana dissolved into countless white motes that vanished into the air.

"Her mana control is good, but she doesn't have enough mana, and the force behind her spell isn't strong enough."

Frieren offered her assessment from the side. The purple-haired girl seemed to hear her and spun around, holding her wand across her chest, her eyes full of wariness.

"Who are you?"

It seemed Fern hadn't noticed the two approaching until just now.

Frieren, however, paid no attention to the wand pointed at her.

"Just a mage passing through."

Fern didn't let her guard down.

She first looked at Lorenzo, then turned her gaze back to Frieren. After lingering for a moment on her long silver-white hair and pointed ears, the wariness in her eyes gradually gave way to hesitation, as though she had remembered something.

"Are you... Lady Frieren?"

It was no surprise that Fern knew who she was, but Lorenzo was a little surprised that she had recognized her at a glance.

On second thought, though, it wasn't so strange.

After all, she was just the right age to enjoy stories about heroes fighting dragons. As the mage who had once accompanied the hero Himmel on his quest to defeat the Demon King, Frieren must have appeared in those stories plenty of times, and statues of the hero's party were everywhere.

"Lord Heiter told me about you."

"That booze-loving monk? How's he doing?"

Fern froze for a moment. She probably hadn't expected those to be the legendary elven mage's first words upon hearing an old friend's name. After a moment's thought, she picked the most polite response she could from her limited vocabulary.

"Um, thanks to you, Lord Heiter is doing all right."

"I see."

Frieren nodded casually.

"He's lived a pretty long time."

For some reason, coming from Frieren, that sounded strange every way Lorenzo thought about it.

"My name is Fern. May I ask who you are, sir?"

Apparently, Fern had no intention of continuing that conversation, so she turned to Lorenzo.

"My name's Lorenzo. I'm a mage too, and I'm traveling with Frieren at the moment."

Hearing that, Fern glanced at Frieren again, and Frieren nodded.

"I see."

Fern politely bowed her head to him.

"Lord Lorenzo."

She really was a polite little girl. Compared to certain elves, she was worlds apart.

"As it happens, we came all this way to visit Heiter. Could I ask you to take us to where he lives?"

Frieren said to Fern.

"Of course. Lord Heiter has been looking forward to your arrival. He'll be very happy to see you."

With Fern leading the way, the two left the cliff and entered the dense forest again. As it turned out, having someone who actually knew the way to guide them was a completely different experience.

"Doesn't Heiter find it inconvenient to live somewhere like this?"

Frieren suddenly asked.

"No."

Fern shook her head.

"Lord Heiter says he's retired, and living somewhere quiet makes it easier to hear the Goddess's voice."

"He used to say that after he got drunk, too. Really, he just didn't want to hear anyone talking while he was hungover."

Fern's steps faltered.

"Lord Heiter doesn't drink anymore."

"Really? Now that's a surprise."

After they walked a little farther, the trees ahead began to thin.

A small stone-and-wood cottage came into view.

The house stood in a clearing in the woods, its outer walls covered in dark green vines and its roof blanketed by a thin layer of fallen leaves. White smoke drifted from the chimney.

"This is it."

Before Fern could knock, the door slowly opened from the inside.

An elderly monk stood behind it. His face was covered in wrinkles, and he was even thinner than most old men, his loose monk's robes hanging somewhat emptily on his frame. Even so, his eyes remained gentle, and a faint smile rested on his face.

"Welcome back, Fern."

The old man greeted the girl first, then looked past her at Frieren, who stood in the yard.

At that moment, the smile on his face seemed to deepen a little.

"It's been a long time, Frieren."