Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thirty-one years have elapsed since the Hero Himmel’s passing.

The salty wind that had felt so refreshing the first few days now felt nauseating, as the boat, despite its impressive sails that made it one of the fastest constructed, was still at the mercy of the wind that helped carry it through the ever-treasonous waters until it reached land. It was a journey of just a few weeks, a timeframe that one out of the three that made up the current party found it to be the blink of an eye, while the other two were less thrilled by this sudden detour that had seemingly come out of nowhere and had halted their march towards the Empire, or well, their Empire, in exchange for this foreign land a vast ocean away.

Frieren, the elf mage who had lived for at least a thousand years, ancient for human standards, yet still at the springtime of youth for her kind, had suddenly announced this sudden trip for… reasons.

Fern, her apprentice mage, officially ranked higher than her master because of other reasons, usually feeling more like a babysitter rather than a student, had not been at all amused.

And Stark, the group’s headstrong warrior without the biggest desire for adventure, had been caught right in the middle, as always, as Frieren had been very reserved about the reasoning behind this trip and Fern had pouted the whole trip through, leaving him trying to keep the peace between these two mages that, despite knowing each other for years, sucked at communication.

The three, currently in silence with each other because Frieren was pensive, Fern was mad, and Stark wanted none of that, still found themselves near one another at an open spot of the large ship. Stark had to maintain his physical training, as his master had long instructed him, but as per Frieren’s warning, he couldn’t just swing his axe around of this frail boat, otherwise they’d be swimming towards their destination.

The very thought of that made him shiver, so he settled for regular exercise, focus on keeping his muscles firm and his axe hands at the ready. The motion of the ship against the waves made for an unsteady training ground, but that made the workout better, he guessed, since it made him actually have to put some effort in keeping his posture correctly.

The open sea was also scorching, which is why he found himself without a shirt on as he trained, which he didn’t think much of it at all, but for some reason Fern had glared at him, muttered something under her breath, and turned her gaze to the side. He honestly did not understand her at all, what did he do wrong now?!

Frieren, her eyes on the two, had a faint smile on her lips. It almost, almost reminder her off…

“One must never slack off so close to the frontlines!” a then shirtless Himmel proclaimed with all the eagerness in the world, his false heroic sword held high, aimed at his sparring partner. Frieren’s eyes shifted from the grimoire she was currently reading and to the “training session” currently underway. As per Himmel’s nagging, she had set up a protective barrier around them, all to try and keep those swings under some sort of control.

“You speak as such this is a formality, you are merely bored Himmel…” their fellow party member, and Himmel’s training partner, Eisen, replied, his eyes narrowed, “But I am not one to back down from a challenge, so come at thy would-be Hero.”

“Come on, no need to be that cold, we have enough of that with Frieren,” Himmel snarked, and while Eisen gave a light laugh, Frieren just narrowed her eyes, unamused.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she inquired, feeling she was merely falling into this man’s little games yet again, but she couldn’t help herself.

“We both know you have quite the sharp tongue Frieren,” Himmel replied, all smiles as always, before he thrusted his sword at Eisen, who blocked the blade with his axe, the resulting shockwave making her barrier shake. She should have probably fortified that a little more… “No offense, of course. That’s part of your charm! To be spoken down by you is the fuel that keeps me going!”

“You’re reasoning is most concerning,” Eisen noted, taking a quick swing at Himmel, but the Hero managed to dodge it by flipping away, landing on his feet, and swinging his sword in a way that the very air became sharp enough to cut through almost anything, which resulted in Eisen having to block that attack by holding his axe in a wide angle, negating the attack and sending the aftereffects onto Frieren’s barrier, almost making it crack. Yes. She should have made it stronger.

“…Your utterly confusing reasoning aside, must you two fight so fiercely? I can’t concentrate on my reading if I have to keep an eye on the barrier, less you two alter the landscape any further…” Frieren noted, coldly, although her eyes fixated mostly on Himmel, for reasons she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Come now Frieren, you become stronger with your reading and training your mana, but for us warriors, the only way we learn is through the fight!” Himmel proudly noted, and took a few more swings, as he and Eisen clashed several times so quickly their weapons clashing outright created sparks even before they touched. “Besides, how can you say you do not enjoy the sight of such perfection before your eyes?”

“What sight?” she merely replied, “I’d rather enjoy the sight of what’s in my hand unperturbed.”

“So cold…” Himmel noted with a laugh.

“It is in her name…” Eisen added, and Frieren frowned.

“Not you too… Don’t encourage him,” Frieren said, before she turned to their last member of their party. The Priest of the Hero’s Party, currently, as always, passed out drunk at the side of the road. They hadn’t even bothered to drag him into a more proper spot. He was inside the barrier, but Frieren wasn’t sure if that made it safer or not. “Besides, what about our corrupt priest’s training? I have never once seen him do anything outside of our battles… when he’s not hungover, that is.”

“Ah, let him be, alcohol fuels him!” Himmel said with a smirk.

“That does not sound like a message a Hero should be making,” Eisen noted, once more matching Himmel’s sword with his axe. “And while in a contest of strength I would pride myself as besting you Himmel, your speed and reach is downright infuriating.”

“Says the man who can strike as fast as lightning!”

“Counters the man that can dodge said strike!”

Another clash between Himmel and Eisen, her barrier cracked, Heiter mumbled something she didn’t understand, and Frieren just frowned. She wasn’t getting her reading done anytime soon it seemed. But… as she looked at the playful fight currently underway, she had trouble denying that she wasn’t that disappointed with the sight before her…

And looking now at the seemingly flustered Fern, both averting her eyes and sneaking glances every now and then, Frieren couldn’t help but smile at the childishness on display. She could hear Sein’s frustration’s echoing, as their former (and hopefully, future) party member and Priest (almost as corrupt as her previous one) had made it quite clear how much he wished for these two to just get together. Frieren had been amused then, and she was still amused now, as she saw it, but also, she knew that any attempts of her at “helping” would result in her messing something up (and that was when Fern was open to talking to her, which now was clearly not the case), so she’d refrain. Still, her eyes did dart to the horizon, and she spoke up.

“Fern, Stark,” she announced, her voice with the same calm tone as always, “You best get ready. We are nearing out destination.”

“Oh? Finally?” Stark said, the relief in his voice evident. The young man pushed himself up with his arms and landed on his feet effortlessly. She was surprised he didn’t accidentally push the boat underwater in doing so, “I can’t wait to get off this thing. What exactly are we… Fern?”

Fern’s pout was very noticeable, and Frieren had to avert her eyes less she make it worse.

“Mister Stark, please ask Mistress Frieren why is she being so secretive and won’t trust us in informing us why we diverted our journey to Heaven to venture off into this far away land?” Fern said softly, but with all the spitefulness Frieren had grown to be accustomed to. She really had grown a lot and not at all…

“Eh? Come on Fern, just ask her yourself…” Stark tried, but when Fern’s only response was to huff and turn away, the guy felt a chill, and in order to avoid her getting angry at him, he turned to Frieren with almost tears in his eyes, “Come on Frieren, can’t you throw us a bone here and tell us why we took this sudden trip? I’m curious too you know.”

Frieren sighed. “I am aware that this is confusing to you both, but… I am not doing the same thing I always do if that’s what you’re worried over. My intention is not to spend a few years here.”

“A few, she says…” Fern muttered, and Frieren gave a weak smile. Right, wording.

“No years, I promise. Not a single one,” she assured, trying her best, “But… I can’t quite explain it to you both as to why we are venturing into these parts. To be honest, I am unsure if I’ll even find a trace of what it is I’m searching for.”

“Searching?” Stark asked, wiping away his sweat with a cloth before he tossed it aside and put his shirt and jacket back on, “Is… Is this another treasure hunt?”

“…Perhaps,” Frieren noted, but when Fern turned to glare at her Frieren added, “And no, this is not just for another grimoire. Please… Just trust me this one time. I am not hiding things from you purposely. I just wish not to alarm either of you with false information. Let me verify what I need, and I will answer all your questions… would that be alright?”

“…Mister Stark, please tell Mistress Frieren that what choice do we have?”

“She… She can hear you. I think we’ve got that covered.”

-0-

If Fern was mad for the sudden boat trip across the ocean that Frieren had sprung to them out of the blue, her mood had outright worsened when it was revealed to her, that no, their business was nowhere near the port the boat had anchored at. Frieren had explained to them that this nation was large, divided into three territories, and their objective was closer to the center, pretty much at a point where all three borders met. Fern had not been amused in the slightest, as that meant several more days of travel, which they were fortunate enough to get some decent transportation for, but their funds were beginning to run mighty low, and considering what they needed to save for the trip back, both on land and on sea, it meant that she was going to be hungry for every other day or so just to save up.

That meant no sweets.

That meant a very angry Fern.

“Staaark…” Frieren whined, like a little girl, “Talk to Fern and tell her to trust me. I’m not doing this on purpose…”

“Easy for you to say…” Stark noted, knowing the minefield that was trying to pacify a pissed off Fern. He was a master at making her mad, but making her happy was another story. Still, as the three sat in a neat little carriage being driven by a couple of horses and a caddy they were able to secure, the young man tried his best, “Say… Fern, isn’t this at least a little bit fun? New continent means new food to try, no?”

At this Fern’s eyes did dart to him, almost sparkling for a second before her pout returned, “With what money? We won’t have enough.”

“Oh, that’s totally not true,” Stark tried, “Frieren must have thought of that and come prepared!”

“Actually, I didn’t think of that, this is a problem…” Frieren just voiced, and Stark felt how Fern’s glare became an arrow, ran straight through him, and stabbed itself onto Frieren. The elf must have felt it too, as she quickly turned to Fern and added, “But I’ll fix it. There are locations here where we can make some coin without needing to… waste time…?”

It hadn’t meant to come out as a question, but Frieren just wanted to calm down Fern so much that she had almost asked if that was an okay solution. Fern seemed to give it thought, but did relent and nod, much to Frieren and Stark’s relief.

“…So, Mistress Frieren knows a lot about this land?” Fern asked, and Frieren could finally breathe again. She had spoken directly to her, finally.

“Actually…” Frieren said, and did her best not to ruin Fern’s mood once more, “This is my first time here as well…”

“Huh?” both Fern and Stark voiced, in united confusion. Frieren knew it was an appropriate response, so she would do her best to explain…

“This is Fódlan,” she began, signaling to their surroundings, “A great land divided into three territories: The Adrestian Empire, The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and The Leicester Alliance. They live in relative peace amongst themselves, united by a common religion, and from the tales I have heard, they are far enough away that the Demon King’s influence did not reach them, at least not directly.”

“Not affected by the Demon King?” Fern repeated, eyes wide, “Then this whole continent is untainted by the demon spawn?”

“…I’m unsure,” Frieren replied, her eyes shifting towards the wooden floor of the carriage the all sat inside of, “Our continent and this one have never been… connected, so to speak. The only time that I am aware that there was a visit from one to the other was when Serie and my Master, naught but a child back then, ventured here for an attempt at a treaty of some sort. My… Master never quite explained enough of it to me, I believed it to be irrelevant anyways, and I am very aware trying to get any information out of Serie will end with me banned from any other place she can flex her power and do so.”

“So Mistress Serie and Master Flamme ventured through these parts…” Fern noted, for once sounding somewhat interested, in that childlike wonder of hers. “But if… you said no other such attempts have been made, then…?”

“Yeah…” Frieren noted sheepishly, her eyes further down, “…We don’t actually have the authority to be here… I had trouble even finding a Captain willing to take the journey, since the punishment for this is… well…”

‘How many laws are we breaking…?’ Fern and Stark both inwardly noted, trembling at the thought, but they couldn’t much do anything expect follow Frieren’s lead and hope for the best. It’s not like she was one to lead them astray. She, usually, knew what she was doing, and if this was important to her, it must be significant then. But was this all that Frieren had been hiding? Despite her reasoning, Fern still felt there was more to this than simply crossing an international border without the proper authorization, and that thought was frightening.

-0-

The trio found themselves in a small village, not unlike those they were used to. It had an inn, and a shop, and more importantly, somewhere to eat.

“Doesn’t seem that unsimilar to the towns we venture across, hmm?” Frieren noted, as Fern was busy giving their caddy her thanks, while Stark was eyeing the weapon shop, noting how they even had a blacksmith available.

“I suppose not,” Stark replied, turning to Frieren, “So what comes first? And please say it’s to buy food because Fern is already at her limit. I can feel it in my bones!”

“My… you have gotten to know her well after all,” Frieren said with a little smile, before she signaled to the nearest eatery that the village had. “We may be able to find a decent meal there.”

Before Stark could nod, however, Fern walked up to the two, and raised her hand to offer an interruption. “Before that Mistress Frieren, I believe I wish to verify something first.”

“Eh? What?” Stark blurted out, utterly surprised.

“Hmm? That’s unlike you. I did not think you would be mad enough at me to go into a hunger strike,” Frieren noted, her head tilted to the side.

“No. Never,” Fern corrected, in a very serious tone. It almost made Frieren grin, as nothing could come between this girl and food. “But I do wish to check something out first, so if you’ll excuse us…”

“Huh? Us? Why am I going too?!” Stark tried to argue his forced involvement, but Fern simply grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along. Frieren remained behind, waving at the two of them, smiling a bit because she had a pretty good idea of what it was Fern wanted to do. And it shouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things she supposed.

As they left the village, Stark kept his focus shifting from the random path Fern had chosen, and towards Fern herself. Was this…? “Did you really have something to do, or…?”

“Mistress Frieren is infuriating,” Fern disclosed, and Stark sighed. Of course this was what this was. “She still treats us like children, only giving us breadcrumbs instead of the full story. So all I’m going to do is walk around a bit and make her worry.”

“Come on, that’s childish!”

“Mistress Frieren is childish.”

“Fern! Come on! We could just go eat and then walk around…?” he offered, and she just pouted.

“No, I cannot keep indulging her in this attitude or she won’t learn.”

“But she’s in town eating while we’re out here starving!” he complained, but when she turned to him, rather than the expected pout, she instead sported quite the grin.

“…I’m not that innocent anymore, I’ll have you know.”

-0-

“…I forgot Fern has all the money…” Frieren noted grimly, as she had searched every pocket and bag, only to recall that before the trip had begun Fern had politely asked to hold onto their coin for the remainder for the trip, which Frieren had quickly agreed to just to try and keep the already mad Fern a little happier. Seems it came back to bite her.

“What’ll you be having?” a very gruff-looking bartender asked her, and she sighed with noticeable pain.

“…water,” she said, defeated.

“Sure…” he noted, not noticing or caring about her distress. Frieren sighed.

“What a troublesome girl…” Frieren noted, and wondered if she should just go after her, ask for her forgiveness, and then… what? ‘Explain the truth to her? It’s not like even I’m certain of why I’m here… If I’m just chasing another fairy tale…’ she said to herself, before she pulled out the ring she wore as a necklace under her robes. The same one Himmel had once gifted her, the meaning of which had been lost to her back then, ‘…I wonder how you would take care of Fern? You always understood people effortlessly… You could voice everything I wish to say flawlessly I’d imagine…’

Then, to her surprise, a hot bowl of steamy meats and veggies was placed right before her. Frieren felt faint, because if this was a prank or that was placed there by mistake, she was going to witness it being take away and she was going to probably cry.

“…I didn’t order this,” Frieren forced herself to say, because heroes don’t steal food. Even if they wanted to. Even if it was right in front of them and they weren’t hurting anyone in doing so. Damn it, she hated being heroic sometimes.

“Paid for by the gentlemen at the end of the bar,” the same gruff bartender told her, and Frieren’s eyes widened. Really? That was… unexpected. Usually it was Fern who would get the occasional free meal from random gentlemen, not her… but, as she turned, half expecting some guy with a flirty smile or whatever humans called that little mating ritual they did, she was instead met by the sight of a very tough looking man, clad in a mix of armor and leather, with hands that had clearly seen battles. A lot of them.

Frieren took hold of her bowl, carefully, it smelled divine, and walked towards the man. He turned to her, a look in his eyes that showed no ill intent, as far as Frieren could spot at least.

“I am grateful, but I did not ask for this,” Frieren voiced.

“Yeah, just a courtesy,” he spoke up, and his voice had quite the number of years on it, for a human at least, “I mean no disrespect little lady, I just felt we were kindred spirits, and seeing you order just a glass of water hurt me by association.”

“Kindred spirits?”

“Yeah,” he said, and showed her his own hand, and her eyes widened slightly. A ring.

“Oh? That’s…”

“I too lost my other half, so I understand how tough that can be…” he told her, and for once she felt a sensation she wasn’t sure if to describe as her being flustered or confused.

“Oh, this isn’t…” she began, but gave pause. Would it really be appropriate to tell a widower about the fact that she wasn’t exactly what he believed? What harm was there in simply accepting an act of kindness? It was what Himmel would do. “Thank you… May I join you then?”

“By all means,” he replied, pushing a nearby chair to offer her a seating, which she gladly took. He turned to her then. “My name’s Jeralt, by the way. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Frieren seemed to pause. She debated if she should use her real name or not. She didn’t sense any malicious intent, nor did she intend to stay long, but the consequences of this could be far reaching if word ever got out, so…

“And my name’s Lügnerin.”

-0-

“Haven’t we walked enough? At this point we’ll get lost and then we’ll really starve,” Stark almost begged, as Fern had continued to prance around aimlessly, her pout evident, but even she was starting to realize her attempts at teaching her mentor a lesson at the cost of her own meal was not all that worth it. Would Frieren even be bothered by them being late? So, sighing in defeat, Fern turned to Stark, ready to just apologize to him and turn back, when the sudden shouts and cries from the darkness that surrounded the woods they walked through ran through them like spears. Both Fern and Stark froze, just for a second, before they turned towards the source of all that hellish noise.

“Mister Stark!” Fern noted with urgency in her voice, as she summoned her staff and took hold of it, while the magic coursed through her body and permitted her to elevate her body, taking flight with one of her trademark spells.

“Yeah, that certainly sounds like a mob!” Stark exclaimed, his hand on the handle of his large axe, pulling it out and twirling it effortlessly, before he strengthened his grip on it, “And is it me or does it sound like they are hurting someone?!”

“My thoughts exactly!” was all Fern replied, before she boosted herself further into the air and then towards the source of the loud screeching and war cries. She knew cries for blood when she heard them, and just because there were no demons in these lands didn’t mean that there were no monsters, and she wouldn’t allow innocents to be hurt.

Further away, running away from an army of thieves, three noteworthy individuals, all clad in similar uniforms only distinguishable from each other by their colors, and in the case of the girl, the accompanying skirt, all took a moment to catch their breath.

“We mustn’t linger,” Dimitri, the blonde young man clad in black and blue spoke up, his eyes on the other two before he shifted them towards where the thieves were coming from. “They’ll be here in minutes at most. And these surroundings make for a poor battlefield against so many.”

“I don’t think the terrain is the issue here…” Claude, the black-haired young man dressed in black and gold, said with a sarcastic tone. “They have a legit army of thugs, and we’re… three. Not good odds. And unlike you two, I can’t throw grown men an entire field away with just a swing of a lance or axe.”

“Enough, this is not the time for you to whine Claude,” Edelgard, the young woman with the white hair and black and red uniform added firmly. She turned to Dimitri, her expression shifting for a second, before she spoke, “…I believe there’s a village nearby. Perhaps they can offer us shelter.”

“A village? Edelgard, we mustn’t,” Dimitri quickly said, “We cannot drive these mad men into a village full of civilians for them to slaughter. If we are to fall, it should be just us.”

“That’s super inspiring and all that, but I don’t think us three getting impaled by the same lance is going to be what this country needs right now,” Claude voiced, and Dimitri turned to him with a mixed expression. It’s not that he wasn’t worried, but to involve civilians?

“That’s not… I mean, we should instead search for our group,” Edelgard added, her eyes firmly on Dimitri’s, who paused when she turned her full focus on him. He hated how one look and he was a kid again. “With at least some back-up you and I can take them.”

“Edelgard… I…”

“I’m just glad you didn’t include me in that to be honest,” Claude added, with a little laugh.

“You firing an arrow or two wouldn’t be entirely unwelcomed,” Edelgard noted, but before she could try and convince them to follow her and look for the desired assistance, their precious time up was over, and out of the very trees, the thieves all began to walk into their view. Like creatures appearing out of the dark, with murder in their eyes, they all surrounded the desperate trio…

“…A last stand it is,” Dimitri noted, his hand of his lance, firmly.

“Yeah, great…” Claude added, sighing, as he took hold of his bow.

Edelgard said nothing, but her hand took hold of her axe. This… this was not how she expected to spend the night at all.

The thieves surrounded them, as expected, and soon enough their leader, a large bulky man wielding quite the heavy weapon walked towards the three. This had to be Kostas, the bandit leader of the Iron King’s Thieves, they noted, and as Edelgard and Dimitri took a firmer hold of their weapons, Claude just took aim at the guy’s eyes. If he was going to die, he was blinding this guy at least.

“Cornered like rats, eh?” Kostas boasted, licking his lips, especially when he took one look at Edelgard. She had to bite her tongue not to reply what she wanted to say. “Well boys… it’s time to collect. Take the heads of those two! Make it slow and painful, but leave the girlie to me!”

With a mighty roar, they all charged, and the trio took their stances, not ready to die but having no say in the matter it would seem, but before Dimitri could strike, Edelgard could call something out, or Claude could fire off his arrow…

…a sudden blast of pure mana erupted right into the battlefield, in-between the three and all the charging thieves, sending them all back with the explosive force, as Kostas had to shield himself with his arms from the sudden magical attack that he had not at all seen any of the three even ignite.

“What the hell?!” he cried out, as, once the dust cleared, his three would-be targets looked just as confused as he and his men did. It wasn’t them? It was absurd, he noted, but it clearly wasn’t those three. So he scanned the sides, and nothing. It wasn’t until he heard one of his men cry out that he looked… up.

-0-

“Father, excuse me.”

Jeralt was caught mid-tale, as he had been sharing his exploits with the peculiar woman he had just met, when his daughter and fellow mercenary politely interrupted them. Jeralt turned, smiling at his girl, while Frieren… paused, her eyes scanning the young woman.

‘…I didn’t feel her presence at all,’ Frieren inwardly noted.

“Oh, Byleth, what is it?” Jeralt voiced, as Byleth barely seemed to blink, much less emote. Frieren just looked at this girl, and something felt... off. But unlike with demons, she couldn’t tell exactly what it was.

“Apologies, but I’ve been told by one of ours that they’ve spotted a small battalion marching with a flag,” Byleth explained, her tone calm and poised, “I do not know why this is urgent, but they said to tell you, as you would know what this would mean.”

Jeralt instantly frowned, confirming Byleth’s words, and sighed, “Yeah… that would be the Knights of Seiros I imagine,” he noted with lament, but he didn’t notice how Frieren flinched at the use of that name, “We best get going, don’t want to get caught up in whatever that is…” he noted, before he turned to Frieren, “My apologies, but I must head off. I’ve already covered the tab, so enjoy your meal.”

“Many thanks,” Frieren just replied, as she watched Jeralt stand up and walk alongside Byleth out of the establishment, and she presumed, away from the village. During this all, Byleth had not once made eye contact with Frieren, but the elf digressed. She wasn’t a demon, so she shouldn’t be a problem. The Knights of Seiros however… ‘I knew it was a possibility to run into trouble so deep into this territory, but I did not expect for the very Knights to be so close to such a rundown village… Well, no matter. I best fetch Fern and Stark and move along…’

Frieren got up, lamenting that she couldn’t finish her meal properly, but this took precedence.

The Knights of Seiros were connected to the Church.

Which meant they had to be connected to them.

And, if she would take any of her late Master’s warnings to heart, it had to be this one…

“If you ever find yourself in Fódlan,” her Master Flamme had long ago warned her, “…Beware of the Children of Sothis…”

And Frieren knew it was best to avoid such a confrontation, as interfering in something so big would only cause everything to spiral out of control. So, for all their sakes, they needed to absolutely, positively not make contact with anyone related to that Church no matter what…

…Was what Frieren though just as Fern flew above the Imperial Princess of the Adrestian Empire, the Crowned Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and the Future Leader of the Leicester Alliance, her staff aimed at the leader of the bandits attempting to outright murder them.

“Not a single step, any of you…”

-0-

%

History, Rewritten!

Chapter Text

A thousand years ago…

The Fódlan of old had been a ravished land. Their Goddess, Sothis, had long ago descended for the Blue Sea Star, a celestial body only visible during a certain point in time, and had taken a human form to live amongst the people. She brought nothing but joy and gifts to the humans she had long admired, but their praise and worship soon turned to greed or worse; with several wars erupting over the lands across several centuries, staining the once peaceful land with endless bloodshed as they took the Goddess’ gifts and began to consider themselves Gods.

It took Sothis centuries, and almost all her power, to restore order and peace in Fódlan, stopping several assassination attempts while she endlessly tried to protect those caught in the crossfire, from the innocent humans to the family she had herself created from her own blood.

After everything seemed settled, Sothis, utterly drained, was forced to rest herself in the Holy Tomb, whereas history would soon forget, Those Who Slither In The Dark took advantage of her vulnerability to send a lowly bandit, Nemesis, to raid the Holy Tomb and kill the sleeping Sothis.

Deicide had been committed.

And using her body, her blood, her very bones; they began to craft weaponry to match and exceed the very Gods themselves, the descendants of Sothis, slaughtering many, while Nemesis was gifted Sothis’ very Crest of Flames, and a weapon crafted from the deceased Goddess’ very spine, the Sword of the Creator.

It was here Nemesis led an outright war to fully cleanse Fódlan of every single descendant of Sothis, and take claim of the land, with the hopes that, once this was accomplished, both he and the eleven powerful warriors who were the only ones capable of wielding the combined powers of the Crests and the Heroes’ Relics without losing their minds or lives, would then be able to seek council with the mighty Demon King from a faraway land, and with it, create a union that no human, mage, or even God could ever hope to stop…

The only survivor of that initial massacre had gathered what was left of her family, and in desperation, had reached out to anyone who would listen. She received one visit, on one rainy day, after so many battles she had lost track of time. How long had she been fighting the man that had murdered her mother, Seiros wondered, but she decided to push those thoughts away, as she welcomed her esteemed guest, and hopefully, future ally.

If only…

“I… It is an honor to host your presence Master Serie,” Seiros would greet, in what had once been her mother’s very throne, now slowly decaying, “Please forgive how very little in hospitality I can offer you.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” the elven mage, Serie, noted, her eyes taking a glance at the surroundings, before they set themselves on Serie, “You look tired child. I received your message. I am surprised you would reach out to me…”

“I have no one else to request for aid,” Seiros admitted, “I know it is presumptuous. I know of your own struggles. I know of the Demon King, and his reign. But I assure you, if… if that dastard Nemesis conquers Fódlan, his greed will not stop at our borders. This war will extend to your lands, and… He idolizes the Demon King. He would…”

“Let me stop you there for a moment young one,” Serie spoke up, making Seiros pause, her eyes lowering a bit. She was so, so tired, and she could already hear the unspoken ‘no’ from the Grand Mage, “The only reason I came to Fódlan was to pay my respects to Sothis. When she visited me, a long time ago, while brief, she was a lovely individual. She holds my respect, and I genuinely feel for you. So young, and to lose a beloved parent to such brutality and cowardice had to be harrowing, but…”

“…but you will not assist us,” Seiros concluded, and Serie just gave a small pause, and sighed.

“To get involved in this war risks mistakenly alerting the Demon King that I am attempting to rally up powerful forces to kill him,” Serie admitted, even if she did sound slightly hesitant when she spoke, “It brings me no joy to see you all like this, but I must think of the bigger picture. The Demon King, a monster as he may be, in his twisted mind, he truly does believe he is creating a bridge between demon kind and humanity. Any attempts he interprets as an attack on that he will destroy, and I simply do not envision a future where he can ever be slain. Sad to say, when I spoke to your mother, before she departed back here to Fódlan to quell this war that cost her her very life, she had promised me, where she to be successful, she would return and assist me with taking down the Demon King. Between Sothis and I… perhaps. Perhaps his reign could have been stopped, but she risked everything to just save Fódlan, and I cannot fault her for it. Unfortunately, I cannot do the same.”

“I… I understand,” Seiros admitted, her gaze downcast, “It was just desperation that made me reach out to you. I only knew of you from my mother’s stories. But I am aware your land is also in peril, and risking exhausting yourself for this one puts every single life you hold dear in peril. I… apologize.”

“…I am not vile enough to reprimand a grieving daughter,” Serie told her, a little softer, “And, I did notice you signed the message as ‘Seiros’, which if memory serves, is not your name…”

“Oh, yes, it…” at this Seiros gave of a light blush, “It is a reference to you. I was in awe of the stories mother told, so I wanted a name that made me feel powerful, that gave me the courage of a true leader, and not just… a broken girl.”

“…Sothis truly raised you well,” Serie admitted, feeling a little bit flattered, “Look, I –”

“Excuse me, I must beg your pardon, Master Serie,” a sudden voice spoke up, as a young man with green hair, much like Seiros herself, a relative likely, Serie assumed, walked in, giving Serie a soft bow before he turned to Seiros, “R-I mean, Seiros, do you know who this one is?”

And the man had a little grinning girl on his hand, held onto her by her robes, as she held a grimoire tightly against her chest, the mischievous glint in her eyes saying everything.

“Oh, Cichol, I… I do not recognize that child…” Seiros replied, but the moment she noticed the spell book the little girl held, her eyes widened, “Wait, that’s…! How did she get that?! That was sealed off with magic from us all; you, me, Indech, Macuil…”

“Ah… I have to apologize,” Serie quickly chimed in, her left eye twitching, as she walked up to Cichol, and took a firm hold of the little girl by the cheeks, even if all this did was make her giggle, “…Flamme. I told you not to wander! We are visiting Fódlan to pay our respects, you little…”

“But I could feel the magic from this book, and it’s so amazing, it’s such a great spell!” the excited little Flamme said, kicking her feet despite still being held in the air by both Cichol and Serie.

“This young one is with you Master Serie?” Seiros asked, perplexed, and Serie sighed and, after letting Flamme go, turned.

“Yes, my apologies, this is Flamme, my apprentice,” Serie introduced, then added, her glare on the little girl, “Who will now properly apologize for attempting to steal.”

“It’s not stealing,” Flamme complained with a pout, but Cichol still set her down, and she looked at Seiros in the eyes, “But I am sorry. It looked like a library, so I thought I could borrow the book for a moment. Although, that does explain why there were so many seals in the way… That should have been a clue.”

“I’m less concerned about the book and more of how did you…?” Seiros noted, her eyes briefly on Cichol.

“As far as I saw, she broke all the seals herself,” he noted, which made Seiros’ eyes widen, “And, from what I can tell, she’s… human.”

“…She’s a very bright and capable little mage,” Serie added, “I took her in on a whim, and I’ve been teaching her for over a year now. She’s a handful, yes, and clearly incapable of staying still… but I have yet to see a magic seal that can hold her in place, not even my own… infuriatingly enough.”

“I see, praise worthy indeed,” Seiros noted, her eyes on the little girl who couldn’t be older than eight, “One so young yet already so gifted in the magical arts. Although, I am rather shocked one such as yourself would take on a student.”

“Again, on a whim,” Serie downplayed, as the ever-excited Flamme, bounced right next to her Master, before turning to Cichol.

“I am sorry for taking this, it looked fun, but here,” she said, offering to return the book back. Cichol gave her a stern look, but it seemed to dwindle with each second he gazed upon the cute little girl before him, and he just sighed.

“It is fine, keep it.”

“Really?!” Flamme excitedly asked.

“Oh, please, don’t spoil her…” Serie almost begged.

“Take it as a gift for your visit at the very least,” Seiros offered, using her hand to showcase the act, “Besides, if she was able to break the magical barriers and reach it, I feel she deserves it at any rate.”

“…Thank you!” the little girl replied with the widest of grins.

“…What am I going to do with you?” Serie bemoaned, but still gave the two descendants of Sothis one last look, or so she thought, “But we should depart. Again, my condolences to you all for your mother. She was a great Goddess, truly divine, and I am certain you will prevail in finishing what she started, all in her memory. May she bless you; Seiros, Cichol. And give my best regards to your extended family.”

While clearly disappointed, Seiros still gave Serie a nod, trying her best to not just cry, while Cichol just stared, as both Serie and Flamme walked away, not before Flamme gave a little wave with a cutely added “bye bye” to them. It did, at least, make them smile a bit.

“You seriously allowed her to take the grimoire?” Seiros asked Cichol, her eyebrow raised.

“I-I well, she just looked so happy about –”

“She reminds you of little Cethleann, doesn’t she?” Seiros asked, knowingly.

And all Cichol could do was sign. What kind of father could say ‘no’ to such an adorable girl that reminded him so much of his darling little daughter?

But, unbeknownst to the two of them, as Serie made a beeline straight out of there, heading to the ports to return to their own Nation and their own troubles, she heard Flamme’s soft voice speak up.

“…They’re suffering,” she noted, “Everyone here, in Fódlan, they’re in misery. They won’t hold out much longer.”

“Empty your mind of such thoughts,” Serie just instructed, “We are not here to save them. We can’t even save our own land. This is their war. All we can do is wish them well.”

“I don’t agree with that!”

“Flamme…”

“No Master,” Flamme bounced ahead, standing in front of Serie, “What is the point, of us having this magical potential, and not even trying to reach out and help those in need? Those crying for help after they lost their deity?”

“That is just naivete talking.”

“That may be so, but I prefer it to pessimism,” Flamme shot back, and Serie just glared.

“I said ‘no’, and that’s final,” Serie concluded, “We will not get involved. I will not risk it.”

“Fine…” Flamme shot back, and Serie’s glare just got worse. She could already sense what this troublesome girl would say, “You go back and sit in your throne and continue to do nothing. I’ll stay behind and help. The Demon King shouldn’t much notice a little human girl joining the war efforts in such a faraway land anyways.”

“What? No, that’s nonsense,” Serie denied, “All you will do is get yourself killed for a land that you don’t even know. While the Demon King’s powers are greater, this isn’t a simple matter. This… Nemesis wields the power of a God, human as he may be, even I would have trouble with him if he can tap into Sothis’ power, much less if the rumors of him having eleven followers of near equal power. And your training has barely begun. I will not allow that.”

“And why?” Flamme just questioned, “You said it yourself Master, you took me on a whim. You don’t care what happens to me. At best, I survive and get a bit stronger; while at worse I die and you have one less mouth to feed.”

At this Serie just looked on, wanting to say so many things, but for once, unable to voice any of them. Not care? For Flamme? For this annoying, troublesome, unyielding… charming, brilliant, loveable little girl that made her feel, for once, not alone in this world. So, as she looked at this girl, who was, she knew, willing to run away and form a barrier to keep herself in Fódlan, one which would take Serie a while to crack open, because she was childish like that (I mean, she was literally a child), Serie just… sighed.

“Why did I ever agree to make you my apprentice…?” Serie asked, less to Flamme and more to herself. But before Flamme could try and reply, thinking the question had been aimed at her, Serie, to her utter shock, declared, “Fine. Just this once. We will help. But you will follow my every instruction, and if you stray from anything I say even by the slimmest of margins, I am knocking you out and you will wake up back home in solitary confinement. Am I clear Flamme?”

And the little girl, utterly thrilled at the chance to help these people in such dire need of assistance, and frankly, hope, could only utter the most excited…

“Yes Master!”

-0-

“Not a single step, any of you…”

The bandits all stared up, in awe, as Fern floated above them, with the full moon as her backdrop, her magical staff, still emitting sparks after the shot she fired, and the spell circle surrounding both it and her, still in place, ready to fire again if need be. She had her glare dead-set on the bandits, or rather, on the one she assumed was their leader, as he had been the one barking orders just before she intervened.

“Back away from the civilians,” she ordered, sternly, “I will not fire another warning shot.”

“…B-Boss?” one of the bandits blurted out, eyes wide, as Kostas just glared at Fern.

“The hell are you supposed to be, some sort of witch?” Kostas called out to Fern, his hand on his rather large Iron Axe tightening even further. This… This wasn’t part of the deal at all, “You’re not even dressed like any of these students! What the hell is your business with this?!”

“Business?” Fern asked, “You are a band of criminals attacking three teenagers. I need no reason to interfere. So… back away, or I will make you do so.”

At the sudden, surprise assistance, literally from above; Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude could only look on at the flying girl who had fired a spell none of them quite knew.

“She’s flying,” Dimitri noted, “And it’s not just a brief spell to keep her afloat for a few moments, but it seems she can manage to remain that way for as long as she can hold that spell…”

“That’s no magic of ours…” Edelgard observed, her sharp eyes on Fern, “…And her clothes are not from around here. Who exactly…?”

“Hey, flying girl, look out!” Claude interrupted Edelgard’s analysis, as, while neither Edelgard nor Dimitri could tell why, just as Claude called out, an arrow was shot directly towards Fern, who barely reacted in time, pushing herself to the side, having the arrow just barely miss her torso and instead cut through her sleeve, before she fired a shot of Zoltraak in the general direction the arrow had been fired from, purposely aiming it in a way she hoped wouldn’t hit the archer directly. She succeeded, blowing up the ground beneath the hidden archer, and toppling him over.

Kostas, seeing the opportunity one of his men had given him, quickly rushed, axe on hand, to target the trio, and his closest was Edelgard. Even if he could just kill one of those brats, at least a portion of their pay would be guaranteed.

“Edelgard!” Dimitri called out, seeing Kostas rush like a man possessed towards the Princess, as she turned just in time to witness the axe about to be swung down on her, with enough force to carve her skull in two. She had her own axe, but it was a risk, to be fast enough to counter his with hers, and her only other weapon was the small knife she held, which would not be able to stop this attack at all.

But before she was hit, the sound of metal against metal echoed through the forest, as Kostas axe hit Stark’s axe, who with just a twist, slashed upwards, disarming Kostas and sending him flying backwards, landing faceup on the hard ground, and the dust slowly settled.

“W-What the…? Another one?!” a still on the ground Kostas cried out.

“You…?” Edelgard voiced up, just as Dimitri was at her side, his eyes on her. She gave him a look, for a brief moment, making it clear she was unharmed, but it seemed his eyes lingered on her small knife that she didn’t even remember who she got from, and she knew she had no time to ask him if he liked it or not. Instead, she turned to her savior, “…I assume you are with… her?”

Edelgard then pointed towards Fern, still up above.

Dimitri turned towards Stark, awaiting an answer.

Claude stood by, bow and arrow aimed at Kostas just in case he tried that little stunt again.

But the three awaited the words of Edelgard’s savior, and…

“…Oh my Gods, that was close!” a very scared Stark almost cried out, “That guy looked so tough I wasn’t sure I would be able to parry his attack on time without getting us both killed! I… Oh, I mean, yeah, I am a friend of hers… Fern, I mean.”

“That was masterful Mister Stark,” Fern noted, from up above, then turned to the thieves, before, to their shock, instead of just one spell circle, she created about twenty. One for each member of their group, “And I did warn you all I would not fire a second warning shot. Leave, or I will hit every last one of you before any of you can move.”

Kostas, getting back up, still feeling his hands tingling… Like, that young man with the red hair, how strong was he? He felt like he had hit a damn concrete wall. But, both the boy, and more importantly, the witch, had something in common. Something that made Kostas grin wickedly.

“I’m calling your bluff witch,” Kostas called out, “You already fired a second warning shot at my archer, and you didn’t hit him, but near him. You’re not used to killing, ain’t ya?”

At this Fern frowned. This was both true and untrue. She could and would kill a demon with zero hesitation. It was both of her Masters’ teachings, and her own experiences, that had taught her as much. But vile as they may be, to use magic to kill another human, she… she had trouble bringing herself to do that, and Kostas could see through it. She knew Stark, while probably more open to the idea if need be, also wasn’t used to fighting or killing other humans. Their war against demons or monsters always took precedence, and usually, conflicts against other humans could be resolved without death, at least, so far.

But those three depended on her. Their lives were at risk. This vile man, Kostas, had almost killed the young woman. She held her staff tighter, and lamented this. She hated this.

“…Don’t make me…”

“I don’t think you have it in ya,” Kostas shot back, but he was still hesitant. He felt he was right, that she didn’t want to. He could see it in her eyes and actions, but a cornered rat will bare its fangs, so he wasn’t sure, if he tried to attack any of the four down on the ground, he wouldn’t just force her hand and make her go in for the kill. ‘Damn it, I’m so close! They’re right there! But what good does it do me if I kill one of them only to be blasted into nothing right after?! I can tell she doesn’t want to kill, but I can’t be certain she won’t if I push her too hard…’

But before Fern or Kostas were forced to call the other’s bluff and risk it, one of the other bandits called out.

“Boss! We have trouble!” he said, “It’s the Knights of Seiros! They’re here! They’ll be on this spot in a matter of minutes!”

“The Knights of Seiros?!” Kostas cried out, cursing his horrible luck. While this girl would hesitate, a seasoned Knight would certainly not, and they had no way to combat these many opponents, “Damn it! Damn it all! Fall back!”

And like rats, the thieves all scattered back into the woods, leaving the battlefield barren, as Fern let out a breath of relief, as she had not been forced to take a life. She gently dispelled her magic, and floated back down, landing next to Stark, Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I mean, I thought I was going to die, but –” Stark began, but Fern just glared.

“Not you,” she was quick to note, “I am aware you can take far more punishment than a measly parry of an axe. I meant… them.”

And at this; Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude finally got the chance to get a good look at their saviors.

The young mage named Fern; and the young warrior named Stark.

“Indeed, you both came at the most opportune of times,” Dimitri replied, his tone filled with nothing but gratitude, “A few seconds later, and I feel a tragedy could have occurred. You two have my utmost thanks.”

“Quite, it was a masterful display of magic,” Edelgard noted, her eyes on Fern, before they shifted towards Stark, “And some very fast reflexes and strong techniques on display, not unlike a certain someone I know…” she added, her eyes briefly on Dimitri. But, she paused, then said, “But… you two are not from around here, are you?”

“Eh…” both Fern and Stark voiced in unison, both of them realizing they kinda did the complete opposite of what Frieren had repeatedly warned them not to do, “Well… we’re, well, we’re actually…” Fern tried. She really did.

“Come now, no need to question our saviors,” Claude jumped in, much to Fern’s relief, “The important thing is those thieves are gone, and Edelgard still has a head.”

“Don’t phrase that so casually…” Dimitri scolded.

Edelgard said nothing, but she did frown at Claude. Granted, it wasn’t a lie. Her forehead was certainly not going to block that axe strike at all.

“Still, I feel we owe you both,” Dimitri added, “Fern, and… Stark, if I heard correctly?”

“Yes, I am Fern,” Fern properly introduced herself.

“And I’m Stark,” as did Stark.

“It is a privilege,” Dimitri carried on, “I am Dimitri Alexandre Bkaiddyd, the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“And I am Edelgard von Hresvelg,” Edelgard politely followed, “The Imperial Princess of the Adrestian Empire.”

“And, last and probably least, I’m Claude von Riegan,” Claude concluded, with a little wink, “Just a traveling merchant these two latched onto.”

Fern and Stark just paused, eyes on him, before he just laughed, all the while Dimitri shook his head and Edelgard gave him a light punch (by which it means it almost pushed Claude to the ground) on the arm, before he just laughed harder.

“Ignore him,” Edelgard corrected, “He’s the future Leader of the Leicester Alliance.”

At all of this, both Fern and Stark felt their spirits leave their bodies.

“…D-Don’t all those titles sound super important?” Stark barely could whisper to Fern.

“I… I am certain those are the three major Nations of Fódlan,” a very worried Fern said, both to him and herself, “And these… are the three heirs of each of them. The future rulers of Fódlan itself. Forget keeping a low profile, we just saved the three most famous people in these entire lands…”

“That… you did.”

And Fern and Stark outright turned to stone.

Up above, on the hill that Fern and Stark had come in from, stood a very, very stoic Frieren, her sharp gaze on her apprentice and her warrior; the disapproval evident from even way up above. The three House Leaders looked on, surprised at the sudden appearance of this other young (or so they assumed) woman whose mere appearance had turned their saviors downright pale. Frieren, noticing the three heirs, and the approaching Knights in all their armored glory, and she just… sighed.

‘Once more,’ she noted inwardly, solemnly, ‘I am again going directly against your very direct warnings Master. I apologize. I now fully understand how… troublesome having apprentices can be.’

-0-

As Kostas made his way back to his lair alongside his not-so merry men, grunting the entire way through as such a simple mission of killing three brats had been ruined by more and more reinforcements arriving that it was driving him insane. A witch who could fly and shoot multiple magic blasts at once, a scrawny looking dude who still threw him several feet across the battlefield, and to top it all off, the Knights of Seiros themselves almost catching them. This was the worst. Their employer wouldn’t take kindly to this failure.

The Flame Emperor, he called himself, or something to that extent.

Kostas was sure that masked weirdo wouldn’t pay him for merely scaring his targets.

But, before he could plan an appropriate excuse, the moment he stepped into the caverns they had been calling ‘their lair’ for the past few weeks, both he and his men were shocked to find the two guards he had left securing the place… dead.

One was pinned to the cavern’s walls, with a sword right onto his abdomen, like some sort of macabre decoration.

The other was on the ground, sprayed out, like a human-fur rug. It was a sight that shook even such a vile man like him, and he immediately pulled out his axe, as his men all looked on, in shock, but also taking up arms. Had the Knights found them?

But as soon as he reached the main area they had all set up, in the stolen fancy chair he had set up for himself (to make himself feel more important than he was) he found a young girl with purple hair that covered one of her eyes, a peculiar light armor, two swords strapped to her waist, and her feet on the table he used to eat. The smirk on her face was something else.

“Oh! Hey! Pardon the intrusion, but I let myself in!” she said, as if she was just giving them the most casual of visits, “I heard whispers of you thieves doing a job that could gain the attention of the Blade Breaker’s mercenaries. I want in!”

Kostas just stared, as did his men, at this young woman just offering herself like if this were a job interview, as opposed to the fact that she had just murdered two of his guys and was sitting as if she owned the place.

“…You’ve got some nerve,” Kostas noted, glaring, “What makes you think I would even consider this? You killed two of my guys? Big deal! I –”

At this the young woman instantly threw a knife, that sliced right through Kostas right ear, making the man bleed, before it landed right on another one of his guys’ forehead, dropping the poor sap to the floor, dead, moments before the guy had drawn his bow and arrows to discreetly fire at her.

“Three guys, actually.”

Kostas just paused, his hand on his bleeding ear, looking at the blood for a moment, before he turned back to her. He didn’t trust this at all, but he knew in his business what failure meant. What the Flame Emperor could do for his catastrophic performance. So perhaps… he could still salvage this.

“…Alright, you have my attention,” he noted, “A sword for hire, I take it?”

“The name’s Shez,” she introduced herself, “And my price is low, for my skills I mean. All I ask is you all make enough noise to draw out the Ashen Demon herself to the battlefield. Do that, and I’ll target anyone else you wish me to.”

And Kostas felt this was outright suicidal, since even he had heard of the Ashen Demon and how monstrous that mercenary was, but…

“You’ve got yourself a deal little Miss,” he accepted, and this made the rest of his men lower their weapons, and made Shez smile, “Targeting the Ashen Demon is outright suicide, but if that’s what you want, that’s on you. Making noise, however, that is something we can most certainly do.”

-0-

When the Knights arrived, led by one Alois Rangeld, a very loud and boisterous man who seemed to adore his own bad jokes when nobody else did, he still thanked Frieren, Fern, and Stark for their assistance in saving Fódlan’s very future. While Fern and Stark tried to downplay what they did, more nervous at having disobeyed Frieren than anything, the elf mage herself said little. She just nodded along, and surprisingly, when Alois implored they all accompany them back to Garreg Mach, the Academy these three heirs were currently attending, Frieren was quick to agree. She didn’t even attempt to avoid the scenario, which surprised Fern and Stark, but they went along with it.

“…I know you are mad Mistress Frieren,” Fern whispered to Frieren as they walked alongside the Knights and the students towards this Garreg Mach. Frieren kept her eyes forward, as Fern added, “I… They were about to be killed. I couldn’t just… do nothing.”

“I mean, we’re not in trouble, right?” Stark added, also whispering, “They all seem very nice, and only want to properly thank us. Isn’t this the same when you and the Hero’s Party returned after having killed the Demon King?”

Frieren sighed. “No… not even close,” she simply replied, softly, “And stop whispering. I need you two to pretend everything is alright, and we know nothing. But, do not mistake this. We aren’t Garreg Mach’s ‘guests’, we are, as of right this instance, their hostages.”

This made Fern and Stark flinch, but they both tried to play along, as soon enough, the three heirs noticed them lagging behind and walked a bit slower to allow the trio to catch up.

“Is… everything alright?” Edelgard asked, her eyes on Frieren, “I don’t believe I got the chance to hear your name ma’am.”

“…Frieren,” she replied, since there was no point in hiding her identity at this point. This girl might have been fooled, but Rhea? No, she’d know instantly.

“I’m assuming that since Miss Fern here calls you ‘Mistress’,” Claude added, “You are her teacher?”

“Y-Yes,” Fern replied, “Mistress Frieren is the one who taught me everything I know of the magical arts. She is an exemplary teacher…”

“Considering the display we saw, if you are the student, I cannot even begin to imagine what the master is capable of,” Dimitri added, his eyes shifting from Fern to Frieren. Fern offered him a little smile, while Frieren remained stoic.

“S-She’s super awesome!” Stark tried, but the little side glare Frieren gave him made him quickly shut up.

“Look alive everyone and put on your happy faces!” Alois announced to the group as they reached their destination, “Welcome, visitors, to Garreg Mach!”

And Frieren, Fern, and Stark all looked on, and while Frieren could only frown, Fern and Stark were looking in awe. It was a massive complex. And small city basically, with a central church in the center, open training fields to the sides, a complex set of classrooms on the first floor, alongside a cafeteria and a library, with a separate area for dormitories. They could see a bunch of students all looking on, each dressed in one of the three distinctive colors that Edelgard, Dimitri, or Claude sported, and they all paused their training or gossiping to watch their House Leaders be escorted back by the Knights and three unknown, strangely dressed individuals. Considering the three weren’t tied down, they assumed these weren’t criminals, but they also had no idea who they actually were.

Several of the young men couldn’t help but just gawk at Fern, whose wide bright eyes, cute face, and sinful body made her an instant favorite for many of them. She noticed the stares, but didn’t much understand nor care as to the ‘why’, as instead, she was on high alert over what Frieren had just told them.

Alois still guided them towards the main chambers, the office of Rhea herself, as the woman, with her magnificent robes and long green hair, was quick to offer the three a very warm smile. Alois gave a salute, and excused himself. A rather awkward Dimitri and Claude followed suit, while Edelgard paused for a moment, her eyes on Fern for a few seconds, before she still offered Rhea a formal nod and excused herself as well.

So now Frieren, Fern, and Stark were alone with Rhea, which Fern felt it odd. Wasn’t this woman very important? Why would they trust them enough to leave them alone with her?

‘Either they genuinely don’t see us as a threat, or…’ Fern inwardly noted, since this woman was utterly unreadable, ‘Or could it be the only defense she needs… is herself?’

“My, look at you young one,” Rhea voiced, her eyes on Fern, “Do please relax. No need to over analyze me. I assure you I mean you no harm nor disrespect. I do apologize for Alois’ possible insistence on you making this trip here, but… I just felt it proper to avoid us delaying this inevitable meeting, would you not agree… Frieren the Slayer?”

Fern and Stark froze, once more, while Frieren sighed.

“Lady Rhea,” she greeted, “My Master used to speak of you. I am honored you know of me.”

“The honor is all mine,” Rhea replied, still with the same soft smile in place, “Any disciple of Master Serie is welcomed within these walls.”

“Actually,” Frieren corrected, tilting her head a bit, “I wasn’t her disciple. My Master was Flamme.”

At this Rhea’s eyes did widen slightly. “Oh? You were trained by the little one?” she noted, before she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, “Although, given her heritage, I assume when she taught you she wasn’t the same little kid who fought for the fate of Fódlan a thousand years ago.”

“Quite, she was older than me, give or take our respective ages for our species,” Frieren replied.

“Amazing. To think one with such a small lifespan could teach the woman who would grow up to one day help kill the Demon King himself,” Rhea replied, with genuine praise, “I do imagine she had matured a bit when she met you?”

“I… very much doubt that,” Frieren noted, eyes to the side, “But, formalities aside, and with no disrespect meant, I genuinely wished not to intrude in Fódlan’s customs and future. My visit is short and I wish not to become a hindrance to any of the three powers, nor to the Church.”

“Nonsense,” Rhea dismissed, “You saved the very future of Fódlan by saving my dear students from peril. I understand your hesitation, Frieren, but I assure you, the war is long over. We are a nation of peace, and your presence here is not only not a bother, but a welcomed one. Serie and Flamme helped us when Fódlan was about to crumble, and for that, you, and your wards, are welcomed here at any time.”

“I see…” Frieren voiced, still rather unsure, since, even she couldn’t read Rhea. It was rare, for her, to meet people older than her after all.

“That said, I apologize for my lack of manners,” Rhea added, turning to the other two, “My name is Rhea, the Archbishop of Garreg Mach. I was informed it was you two who saved Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard, correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” Fern was quick to answer, with a soft bow, “I am Fern, Mistress Frieren’s apprentice.”

“And I’m Stark,” Stark added, “I’m also an apprentice of a member of the Hero’s Party, in my case of Master Eisen.”

“Quite the noteworthy and legendary Master as well,” Rhea noted, “We here, in Fódlan, are aware of the efforts of the Hero Party. Of the exploits of Himmel the Hero, Eisen the Warrior, Heiter the Priest, and Frieren the Mage. We would have loved to have welcomed all four of you with open arms, but just getting to meet you Frieren is an honor onto itself.”

“And meeting you is likewise an honor Lady Rhea,” Frieren noted, which, despite her hesitation and her Master’s warnings, she still felt it was properly earned. She also saw Fern’s cute little smile at the mention of Heiter, and she couldn’t help but smile in turn despite herself. Still… “But, I must insist, that while my… team was rash, and I won’t argue they did a good deed, I feel no need for you to welcome us or accommodate us. Our plans here are short, and we are needed back at our homeland to continue our quest.”

“Oh, you are on a new quest?” Rhea inquired, and Frieren just nodded, “I see… that does pose a problem.”

“Problem?” Frieren asked, already feeling a bit on edge.

“Nothing serious I assure you,” Rhea quickly said, “I was hoping to commission you three for a specific job I find myself in dire need of getting done, and I am willing to pay handsomely for it.”

This made the three pause, but despite the tempting offer, both Fern and Stark turned to Frieren, who seemed to ponder it briefly, but ultimately shook her head.

“I understand, but we’re not the adequate party for any commissions in Fódlan,” she noted, “We are unfamiliar with the area, the populace, the monsters, and, again, we already have our own journey in motion.”

“I see… however, I feel I must at least explain my offer, if you are willing to hear me out?” Rhea asked, and Frieren nodded again. She knew she was hearing it regardless. This made Rhea’s smile widen a bit, “It is not a mission to travel all over Fódlan or anything like that. I find myself lacking a professor, actually.”

“Professor?” Frieren asked, head tilted.

“Correct,” Rhea replied, “As you may have seen, my students have three types of uniforms. This is because Garreg Mach has three classes: The Black Eagles, led by their House Leader Edelgard; The Blue Lions, led by their House Leader Dimitri; and The Golden Deer, led by their House Leader Claude. Currently, I only have two Professors and I am in need of another, less I be forced to use Jeritza, who is my current Combat Instructor, and I wish not to have him take on both roles.”

“So… a teaching gig?” Stark asked, surprised.

“More or less, in simple terms, yes,” Rhea replied.

“And how long do you propose this would be Lady Rhea?” Frieren asked.

“Just one year,” she answered, “As the three heirs all graduate soon.”

“Oh… that’s surprisingly quick, I may just –” Frieren began, before Fern pulled on her clothes, making her squirm a bit.

“Mistress Frieren!” Fern called out, pouting, “A whole year?! I…” she then turned to Rhea, and offered a full bow, “I apologize, but Mistress Frieren still has a lack of understanding of her perception of time versus a human’s. But I fully believe if she would think things carefully, she would understand that a year is a bit… too much.”

“…Must you always be so quick to think the worse of me?” Frieren lamented, “I didn’t even agree, I just made a note of the timeframe…”

At this Rhea just laughed. “I do love to see how some things never change. Master Serie was always in control, what she said was final, unless little Flamme argued it. It seems that tradition continues.”

Here both Frieren and Fern pouted outright identically, while Stark just gave off a sheepish laugh, unsure what the plan even was. Frieren, however, sighed, “Still… while I appreciate the offer and understand your situation, Fern is correct. A year is a long time for them, and we are needed elsewhere. So I must –”

“Before you decline,” Rhea interrupted, and took hold of a grimoire on her desk, “I have a decent idea of why you are here… Frieren. So… if I give you exactly what you’ve come to Fódlan in search for, will you at least consider it?”

“A… grimoire?” Frieren voiced, her eyes almost stars. Both Fern and Stark just felt their left eyes twitching, “I-I mean, yes, I collect them, but… what I am searching for…”

“Take it, and stay they night at least,” Rhea offered, handing the book to Frieren, who took it with a little bit of hesitation, “Read it, and if it is not what you seek, you may keep it and leave. But if it is what you desire, then, please, offer me this assistance.”

Frieren looked at the grimoire, the title a spell she didn’t know, but she sighed. With her Master’s warnings ringing in her ears, she nodded, “Very well. We shall do that.”

“Perfect,” Rhea noted, pleased, “I’ll even allow you, once you accept, to decide which class you wish to teach, so give that some thought too. It is most fortunate, to think that from the school Serie herself founded, I would have an official First-Class Mage as a Professor.”

“…I’m not a First-Class Mage.”

Rhea froze. Her smile unmoving. Fern and Stark both stared, unsure of what to do or say, while Frieren just stared.

“…Pardon?”

“I’m not a First-Class Mage.”

“…But you defeated the Demon King.”

“That sadly was not part of the test.”

“Serie herself runs it, no?”

“Yes, and she hates me.”

Rhea felt her hand twitch a bit. This… what was even this? Having a legendary First-Class Mage as a Professor would do so much to help unite all three Nations, as the education of their future Leaders would be secure, but… she wasn’t officially licensed? Damn that Serie, a thousand years later, and she was still that stubborn?

Frieren, noticing Rhea’s inner turmoil, still lifted her hand, and with her index finger pointed to the side, “Fern is a First-Class Mage though. She passed the exams effortlessly.”

“Mistress Frieren!?”

“She… is?” Rhea asked, her eyes shifting to the young girl, who while looking no older than her very own students, she could feel the huge amount of mana she possessed despite her age. She thought for a moment, before she smiled again, “…And, it is my understanding that she, I mean, young Fern was the one who helped save my students?”

“Correct,” Frieren confirmed, “Alongside Stark.”

“Mistress Frieren, I am in no way qualified to…” Fern tried, but Rhea just nodded.

“I see, very well, Fern,” she added, her eyes now on the girl, who seemed to panic, “Allow me to then extend the offer to you instead. Your status makes you more than qualified, and with your Master Frieren here, I am certain she can guide you on how to teach a class, and I, alongside every other staff member, will offer you any assistance you require… Plus, I think my House Leaders already took a liking to you.”

“I-I… Me? Teach? A whole year…?” Fern tried, but she was failing at joining words into proper sentences, “Mistress Frieren, this can’t…”

“Allow me to examine the grimoire Fern,” Frieren simply noted, “As agreed, if it’s not what I’m looking for, you won’t have to do a thing. But you were the one who jumped in to play the hero, so these are the consequences.”

At this Fern pouted, then shot back, “It’s what Himmel the Hero would have done.”

“That’s a low blow.”

“This is a low blow!”

“I am glad we’ve reached an agreement,” Rhea noted, clapping he hands together, “And I assure you, that grimoire is exactly what you desire, so, please, Professor Fern, start deciding which class you wish to teach.”

“I-I…”

“You’ve gotten into quite a mess, huh?” Stark noted, earning him a glare from Fern, but Rhea was quick to smile at him.

“Oh, don’t think I’ve forgotten you,” she added, and this made Stark shriek, “A disciple of the legendary Eisen is not someone I would ever ignore,” she noted, as she the signaled to the training grounds, “As I mentioned, I have Professor Jeritza in charge of training the students for combat, but he is also often sent out to Missions on behalf of the Church. As such, unfortunately, sometimes I lack a Professor in such an important class. Hence, if you’d consider it, I wish you could become Professor Jeritza’s Assistant and help him teach his combat trainings, or take over when he’s away.”

“Wait?! You want me to teach too?!” a very scared Stark just cried out, which only made Fern giggle.

“You’ve gotten into quite a mess, huh?” she shot back, and he just narrowed his eyes at her cheeky callback.

Still, while the four agreed to whatever this was, this was heavily dependent on if that spell book was indeed the one Frieren wanted, and knowing Frieren, the woman probably didn’t even know what she herself wanted. So they knew it was a very slim chance this would actually happen. It would just be a one night stay, and they could be on their way tomorrow morning, with no ill-will from either side.

Simple, right?

…right?

-0-

After Frieren, Fern, and Stark were each given a proper room to stay in, which led to Fern to quickly undress herself fully and go into the warm bath and just allow her aching body to soak. She stared up at the ceiling, knowing that they weren’t staying, but actually wondering, what if? What if she had actually become a professor to these students, all her same age, give or take? How would have she even managed that? So, she allowed herself to rest, rubbing her body, from her ample chest, to her sore back, and her slender legs, all the while wondering what was the contents of the grimoire Lady Rhea had tried to basically bribe Mistress Frieren with.

‘Exactly what Mistress Frieren desires…’ she repeated to herself, as she got up from the bathtub, the water rinsing off her nude body, ‘Despite her fascination with all kinds of spells, I very much doubt there’s one that would make her consider worth the stay. But I can’t help but be curious what it is…’

And as Fern exited her bath, and Stark had already thrown himself onto his own bed and fallen into a coma (more or less), Frieren, already clad in her nightgown, under the candlelight, read through the grimoire. Her sharp elven eyes focused on the spell it told, and… it was difficult to comprehend, even for her. She knew magic differed from one part of the world to the other, so her magic was different from that of Fódlan’s, but the basics were the same. They all came from the exact same source.

But this spell, it almost sounded like…

“What exactly is it offering me?” Frieren mused, as the candlelight flickered, and she read the small passage that was supposed to be the spell itself, “…Engage.”

The candlelight flickered, almost as if a sudden gust of wind had been about to extinguish them, but there were no open windows. She looked on, eyes narrowed, as she felt nothing different, until…

She glanced down at her bracelet, the same one sporting her ring, and it was glowing. She pulled it upwards, and examined it for a moment.

“Is this a spell that cleans jewelry?” Frieren voiced, eyebrow raised, “Or, given the word ‘engage’, am I officially capable of officiating a marriage?”

“I don’t think that’s the actual purpose of the spell.”

Frieren jolted, standing up in an instant, and turning to the side, where a voice had just spoken to her. A sudden voice. A familiar voice. A voice she had not heard in over thirty-one years, and not with that level of strength in over eighty years.

And there he stood, before her, clad in a slight glow like a phantom, but unlike every trick she had faced before, that had used his likeliness against her, the look in his eyes…

“I would say it’s been a while Frieren, but I feel I just saw you leave the village this morning, promising to come back to watch the meteor shower in fifty years…”

And she, for once, had no clue what to say except…

“…Himmel?”

-0-

%

Don’t Own “Fire Emblem: Engage” Either…

Chapter Text

Frieren just stared, her eyes on the quite literal ghost from her past, having somehow taken the form, and outright mannerisms, of her long lost… friend, Himmel the Hero of legend. The man that had led them all to finally put a stop to the reign of terror the Demon King had over their own land. A reign that she was sure, had they not stopped, would have reached even as far away lands like Fódlan right now. But, that was over eight decades ago, and he had passed away over three decades ago. Thirty-one years to be exact. She had been attempted to be tricked before, several times, and each time the illusions seemed to get better… so what exactly was the spell in this grimoire that could conjure up such an illusion?

“I can see the wheels in your head turning, despite that ice cold look I adore almost sending chills over my… surprisingly slightly translucent and glowing body,” the “Himmel” noted, and Frieren hated, how unlike all other prior illusions, which kept his characterization how he was when serious or focused, here he sounded just as unserious and immature as the genuine article. If these tricks kept getting better, she would have problems in a few hundred years or so. Still, he did offer her an identical smile to the real “Himmel”, and then… “But, oh my, I literally just said my goodbyes to you earlier today, and now you summon me to your private quarters wearing such an amazing set of nightclothes. I feel I can now die a happy man.”

“…I will give whatever form of sorcery you are credit for seeing past the ‘Hero’ label and actually acting like the less than ideal man the real Himmel was,” she noted, even if she did feel the tip of her elf ears turn a slight shade of pink over the fact that, yes, she was wearing her little sleepwear clothing while standing before the man from her yesteryear, and fake or otherwise, it was still, a bit embarrassing, much to her own surprise at herself, “Regardless, state your purpose, as I am in a very important place and can’t just fire at you. If you could just disperse yourself and save me the trouble, it would be ideal. It would be what Himmel the Hero would do.”

“Eh? It would? But you summoned me… or, at least I think you did,” “Himmel” noted, his hand to his chin, contemplating the scenario. That was, after he gave her a good look, and it made her want to forget the complex scenario of her current predicament and just destroy this annoyingly realistic illusion of this man, “But wait, wait, before you fire one of your frightening as all heck spells at me, seriously, summoning me out of nowhere just to attack me that’s… Never mind, before you do that, can you explain to me why you keep saying I’m not real?”

Frieren paused, second away from summoning her staff. She looked on, eyes on him, cautious, but… it couldn’t be… “…Because what else could you be? I’ve seen magic of all kinds, and I can tell the spell used to create you. Unlike other tricks, you even have a soft glow about you, making it obvious what you are.”

“I did ask about the glow, it makes me look more heroic, granted, like a literal knight in shining armor, but I imagine sleeping while you glow like a campfire would be sort of annoying,” he would note, clearly not all that concerned, “But, I should probably explain, this is me Frieren. I am aware we’ve faced illusion spells before, but… wait…”

“What?” she inquired; her head tilted slightly. Why was she even entertaining this farce? For all she knew, the more she waited to dispel the spell, the more dangerous it could become, as she had taught Fern.

“Which ‘you’ am I talking to?”

This made her almost freeze.

“Which… me?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to… how can I phrase this? Spoil upcoming events, but since it is you, I’m not sure if you are the Frieren I just said goodbye to,” he explained, and she felt… so confused.

“Explain,” she demanded, “When did you supposedly last saw me?”

“Earlier today,” he replied, still as carefree as ever, “You said you were done with our… short mission, how ten years is short to you I’ll never understand, but never mind that, and promised us all you’d meet up with us again in, you know, nothing… fifty years for the next meteor shower, if I’m even alive by then…”

“…You’re saying you’re the Himmel from that long ago?”

“Wait, that long ago?” he asked, for once, slightly concerned, and she inwardly cursed for saying something she shouldn’t have. She was always stoic and calm, keeping everything close to her chest, yet lately, both Fern and Stark had been slowly able to get her to loosen up, much to her annoyance, just like the real Himmel could, “And this is you saying it. Has it been centuries since then?! I mean, it’s hard to tell, you look the same! Nay, you look even more beautiful since I saw you last, which may have been a couple of hours ago for me, but still!”

“I…” she paused, unsure. On one hand, everything in her screamed that this couldn’t be real, but on the other, no other illusion had been able to annoy her just like the real Himmel could, “…I will assume, just for a moment, you are the Himmel you say you are. Explain what you meant by spoiling upcoming events.”

“For that to work, for both our and the timeline’s safety, we both have to be honest with each other and be careful with what we say at the same time,” Himmel noted, and she hated how she instantly nodded, as if she was once again the Frieren from Himmel’s Party accepting an order from their leader. She shook her head, but…

“Very well,” she agreed, hesitantly, “I will play along, for a moment. You are dead, Himmel. Have been dead for over thirty-one years, and that day you speak of, the moment I left and promised to return, was eighty-one years ago.”

Himmel paused in turn, his eyes to the side in a rare sight of the man in contemplation. “…I see. Dead then. And, oh wow, so did we see the meteor shower at all, or did I drop dead like a few days before it?!”

“…We saw it.”

“Oh, well, something to look forward to I suppose,” he joked, even if it unnerved him, “I kinda expected everything I used against the Demon King would shorten my life, but just fifty years left to live, that’s… rather spooky to know about.”

“That’s if you’re even real,” she noted, “Now… as promised, I replied, so offer me the same courtesy.”

“Oh, it’s fine, if this is you way after I’m not even around, then it has to be you,” he replied, and she kept her eyes on him, confused, until, “You’re the Frieren who traveled back, who momentarily took over your younger self and journeyed with us for a brief time. You spoke a little of the future, but we did agree not to tell each other too much, less we change what the future would be, or is in your case.”

Frieren just stared, prancing slightly, unsure, “…You remember that?”

“Of course!” he replied, all smiles, “After all, out of all the spells I’ve been caught under, that placed me into a magical illusion, the one of you and I both at the altar, about to be married, is one I will forever cherish!”

She felt that damn blush once more, but fought it off, instead, glaring at him.

“H-Hey! Don’t give me that look,” he comically begged, taking a step back, hands raised in “surrender”, “I know you can still fire one heck of a spell by just looking at someone, as the Demon King could attest to, so I do not want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“…Why do you sound so real?” she couldn’t help but ask, trying so hard not to hope this actually was…

“Because I am, a spell can mimic a person, I am aware, and while I am no magic expert as you are, I don’t think it could replicate all my memories like I have,” he explained, “And I could tell you my entire life’s story if it would help calm you down.”

“I am calm.”

“You are most certainly not,” he corrected, and she frowned, “At least not by your standards. You’re ice cold compared to everyone with a pulse, yes, but for you, no.”

“It’s just…” she almost stammered, her eyes to the side. Her whole journey’s purpose was to see him again, to say everything to him in death she couldn’t in life, yet, could this spell, from this far off Nation her Master Flamme had warned her about and Serie would certainly have her arrested if she found her here, actually summon the past version of him into her timeline? “…I have to believe, that, for some unexplained reason, this one spell is powerful enough to pull you, or, part of you, from the past and into my time. It is magic I never knew existed.”

“Oh, yeah, I would also recommend caution,” Himmel noted, eyeing his surroundings, “I can understand a spell that would perfectly mimic a version of ‘me’ as you knew me, but nobody ever really knows anyone. Heck, we never truly know ourselves in the end.”

“Philosophical.”

“Practical,” he corrected with a smug grin, “But, trust me, if what’s in my head is something you actually know about me, then forget the fifty years, kill me now.”

“…Can you please take this seriously for even a few moments?” she asked, almost begged, exasperated. He was as annoying as Himmel, that was for sure.

“Certainly! I if it please you, I shall! That said…” Himmel began, but his sudden shift in tone, making her stand on edge because it had been so long she had heard him use that tone. That voice that signaled something was wrong, “Where exactly are you… we right now? I can’t actually explain it, but something feels… off about this place.”

“…Sharp as ever I see,” Frieren noted, and for once, against her better judgement, decided to relax and take a seat on her bed, her eyes still on this Himmel that the more she spoke to, the more he seemed like the genuine article, “Yes, we are in Fódlan, a far-off Nation mostly untouched by the Demon King’s reign, but with quite the bloody history and horrors of its own. My Master Flamme and her Master… Serie, once journeyed here and helped out on a war a thousand of years ago. Suffice to say, if Master Flamme was wary of this place, and even someone like Serie struggled during that war… I am well aware I shouldn’t be here.”

“Your Master and your Master’s Master?” Himmel asked, knowing enough about both from Frieren’s stories on them, mostly positive regarding the former, the latter… not so much, “I take it you weren’t involved?”

“My master was just eight,” Frieren replied, “She was naught but a child and still, given how infuriatingly brilliant and talented she was, she was the one who convinced Serie to stay and help and she somehow survived. She only found me several years later, as an adult. I had never set foot in this Nation until now.”

“I see,” Himmel noted, “I assume you have your reasons?”

“…I’m staring at it,” she shot back, eyes narrowed, “Assuming this isn’t a trick.”

“Oh? To see me?!” Himmel replied, utterly overjoyed, “Now that makes my heart melt! But, like, why exactly if I may ask? I mean, don’t get me wrong, getting to see you again after spending my day thinking I wouldn’t see you until fifty years is a treat, but…”

“Because I messed up,” Frieren admitted, then bit her tongue. No, she wasn’t ready for this conversation. She needed to prepare. To formally speak to him. Properly. Not in her nightgown and him… glowing and only half here, “And… look, it doesn’t matter. If what you are saying is true, then we could still put the timeline at risk, and… such an alteration could cause something catastrophic. A separate timeline, something new. And, even the strongest of mages, even Serie herself, we… the multiverse is a concept we know frightenly little about.”

“Sounds serious,” he would note, “But since this isn’t you going back, but instead bringing me forward, I think, if I just keep quiet about this, we should be fine, no?”

“You are taking this way too calmly.”

“And you look tired.”

“I was about to go to bed.”

“No, not like that,” Himmel noted, and she frowned, again, “He leaned down, and sat besides her, and it made her eyes widen. His supposedly non corporal body had weight? It could sit on the bed? “I mean you almost look as if –”

“You can interact with objects?” she just blurted out, her sharp eyes on his. He paused, having probably not noticed it himself.

“I guess I can?” he replied, “Am I not supposed to…?”

But as he asked, she reached out. And it was rare. It was a timid reach, almost as if afraid this one touch would destroy the very fabric of reality, or downright ignite them both. But she couldn’t just not… try. Not after failing to realize so much all those years ago. For taking for granted what she had had and walked away from. So for once, she’d risk the world, just to see if she could…

And her hand did caress his cheek, feeling his warmth, as he leaned into her touch.

“It’s good to see you again Frieren.”

“…I-It’s good to see you too… Himmel,” she tried, fighting back emotions she wasn’t sure she even knew she could feel. He smiled at this, and softly patted her on the head, while she just scoffed, and, softly, added, “…Don’t pat me on the head.”

-0-

Fern woke up to dreams of the family she lost mixed with the family she had, a complex narrative that made no sense, but it had made her happy. She got up, fought off the early morning grogginess, did her daily morning routine before she walked out of the room that had been assigned to her. It was, despite the fact that they weren’t staying (and for obvious reasons) still a very pretty place that made her want to explore every inch of it were she to be given the chance, but it couldn’t be helped. She walked through the hallway, paused and bent down to pick up a very fancy white glove with an insignia on it, wondering if someone had lost this item, and deciding to store it to give it to any actual Professor before they left.

On her way to Frieren’s room, she found Stark doing the same, already prepared to leave, and both just arriving at Frieren’s door at the same time.

“Oh? Fern…”

“Mister Stark,” she greeted, “Please allow me a few moments. I… overslept for more minutes than I should have, and as such I have to do Mistress Frieren’s less than simple morning tasks, so I apologize for that.”

“Eh, come on, it’s fine, it’s fine!” he noted, smiling as usual, “I know how you two work, so it’s fine. I did see a market within this Academy’s grounds, so I am curious about it. I could go check it out until –”

But then, not from the bedroom door, but from behind them both, Frieren spoke up.

A fully dressed, with her hair expertly brushed, and looking like she was outright glowing given the happy smile she sported.

“About time you two woke up,” she greeted the two very, very confused young adults. Stark was speechless, while Fern was about to summon her staff and blast away this impostor, “We have quite a few things to get done for today, so come on now, let’s move. We have a meeting with Lady Rhea, and it is improper to be late to a meeting with our hostess.”

At this Fern and Stark could only nod, barely, before they followed the outright skipping Frieren towards the Archbishop’s main office. As they did, Fern placed her palm on Frieren’s forehead. No fever. Checked the pulse of her wrists. No hypertension. Took a careful look at her eyes. No pupil dilation. Fern’s spontaneous examination was looking to get more and more thorough until a concerned Frieren made her stop less Fern give her a full physical checkup right then and there.

“Fern, I am aware mornings are a natural enemy of mine…” she noted, gently pulling Fern’s hands away from her waist before the girl lifted her up to check her weight, “But it’s me. I just happened to have had a… meaningful conversation last night, and I need to study something further. Know exactly what I can or cannot do, and how it works; which is super exciting, in it’s own way I’ll admit. So many mysteries.”

“Mistress Frieren, you aren’t making much…” Fern tried, but as she and Stark just stared at this hyper energized elf mage that seemed super happy for some reason (I mean, they were glad, but they had no idea of the ‘why’), the three ended up in the Main Office of the Archbishop, as Lady Rhea greeted the three with the same picturesque smile as always.

“Oh, good morning my dears, I do hope the accommodations were to your liking,” Lady Rhea noted, her tone, as always; prim, proper, and impossible to decipher.

“Yes, they were. This is a very lovely Academy, I can understand why the students love it so,” Fern replied with a polite bow.

“Yeah, those beds are top notch. Thank you for such hospitality…” Stark tried, mimicking Fern’s little bow, even if it wasn’t a lie. Those beds were awesome.

“Good, good,” she told the two, before her eye drifted towards Frieren, knowingly, “And…?”

And it was here both Fern and Stark felt their souls leave their bodies.

“…Very well,” Frieren just announced, “As promised, the grimoire is sufficient, so Fern and Stark can stay and help teach your students for this year.”

“What?!” both aforementioned would-be instructors turned to Frieren as if she had gone insane (and, genuinely, to them, she had), while Fern, who thought she knew her Master best but she had clearly been mistaken, added, “Mistress Frieren, what are you saying? You mean the deal with the Grimoire in exchange for me and Mister Stark staying here to teach is…?”

“It’s quite valid, yes,” Frieren replied, her eyes on her girl, “And… don’t give me that look. I am aware you have questions. I will answer all of them, just please let me read into it a bit more. It will be worth it, for all of us, I promise. I will not lead you astray.”

“Mistress Frieren!” Fern still complained, “A whole year!”

“And if this is real, it’ll be the last year,” Frieren countered, and Fern just paused, even more confused. Here Frieren gave the girl a soft smile and added, “Please… I am not doing what I always do. I am not taking your time, your life, for granted. Please trust me just this once. I will explain everything, and I… really need this. Please Fern.”

And despite how much she wanted to decry everything about this. All of it. She still couldn’t deny that her Master seemed genuinely happy, and… damn her for being such a good girl. She should take Übel’s example and be a bad girl instead. They have more fun.

“…Very well,” Fern relented with a sigh, “If we must, I shall trust you, but you better have a valid excuse, otherwise I am not trusting you again.”

“I am very aware,” Frieren noted, before she turned to her other ward, “And you Stark… think you can also give me this one chance?”

“I mean, I guess?” he admitted, “I like this place, and I can’t exactly go back by myself, wouldn’t even know how… and yeah, I trust you, so, okay, sure… even if this sounds scary as all heck…”

“Oh, trust me young Stark, this won’t be anything frightening in the slightest,” Rhea assured the Warrior, “You will be assisting our Combat Instructor, Jeritza, and he has prior experience in his role, so all you’ll have to do is follow his instructions and help him teach the students how to properly defend themselves. From the accounts I’ve heard, and from the man who trained you in turn, I am more than certain you can do a wonderful job.”

“I-If you say so…”

“And you… Professor Fern,” Rhea now addressed Garreg Mach’s new Professor. Said new Professor looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “Why don’t you go around and talk to the students? They’re all curious about our current VIP guests, especially since you two saved our three House Leaders. You will be leading one of those classes, so perhaps it can help if you meet the students of each House.”

“I-I… I suppose I can…” Fern noted, fighting off her pout, since, teaching, really? Frieren had barely been able to train just her, how was she supposed to train a whole class?! But, at Rhea’s behest, and Frieren’s nod of approval, Fern gave another soft bow and decided to just go with the flow and meet and greet the students she would be now teaching. Stark, likewise, was told he could go meet Professor Jeritza at the Training Arena, and he very reluctantly agreed and went on his way as well.

This left just Frieren and Rhea.

“I assume the grimoire was exactly what you were searching for,” Lady Rhea noted, as Frieren just looked on, “I was certain, given how little Flamme was, that it would be something of interest to you. Even I am not completely knowledgeable on how the ‘Engage’ system works, but from the look of things, you were able to at least activate it.”

“You would be correct,” Frieren replied, “I can tell if would be a grimoire my master would have adored, if it can summon any… Hero for what I assume are limited times. I do appreciate the gift, or rather, the trade, and I am most grateful. My Master spoke highly of this place, of you,” she sort of lied, but it was complicated, “And even now, I can still see the garden, with the field of flowers, which I assume…”

“Was created by little Flamme’s spell, correct,” Rhea replied, “She was an eager one, energetic as could be, and brilliant in the art of magic. For a human, with such a limited lifespan, and at merely eight years old, even I would have thought twice about challenging her with just magic.”

“Of that I have no doubt, even now I do not think I have surpassed her,” Frieren noted, but then she paused, her tone shifting slightly, it made Rhea’s eyes sharpen just a little bit, “But… make no mistake. This grimoire may be everything I have been searching for when I began my journey, but… circumstances have changed. I will remain here, and guide and protect Fern and Stark as needed. They are strong, no doubt, but they remain under my care. I’m the one serving under the Church of Seiros and Garreg Mach, so anything that you need from them, please inform me about it, and…”

And with just the slightest cold look, shared between Frieren and Rhea, the former added…

“Even with what this Grimoire grants me, their safety comes first, so if that is ever compromised, I will not hesitate to step in. I hope you understand this, coming from one Mentor to another.”

And all Lady Rhea did, was, what else, smile…

“Of course. I value the safety and happiness of all the members of my staff and students, and the associates of them. You have my word they will be safe, and both Fern and Stark may turn to you whenever they need guidance, as they are also more than welcomed to turn to me for the same, were you to be okay with it of course.”

-0-

After both her and Stark awkwardly walked out of that office with their entire plans and world turned upside down, the two gave each other a worried glance and half a nod before they each went where they were told to. Stark was to head out to the Combat Arena, to meet this Professor Jeritza, the Combat Instructor they had heard so much about (like, if combat was his subject, why wasn’t he with the students, you know, fighting to protect them when Fern and Stark intervened?); all the while Fern walked through the hallways and towards the small open field that led to each of the three main classrooms…

Or, at least, that was her intention, as no sooner was that area withing sight, she caught a glimpse of one of the students resting his back against the corner of the hallway, a little smirk plastered on his face.

“So, is it true?” Claude asked, that little glint in his eyes ever present, “Rumor has it we now have a First-Class Mage as an instructor, one, which may I add, kinda saved Fódlan’s very future recently. Such a thing would indeed be noteworthy if true.”

“Oh? Mister Claude von Riegan, hello,” Fern politely greeted, soft bow and everything, before she caught herself. Weren’t the three she and Stark helped royalty? Like… very important heirs? “I suppose that’s inappropriate, to refer to you in such a formal matter. Are you referred to as Your Majesty? His Excellence? Milord? Or…?”

“Wait, wait, hold up. None of that,” Claude quickly stopped her, pushing himself off the wall and waving his hands around to make her stop, “I am really not one for fancy titles, at all, and one rule here in Garreg Mach, from what I can understand, it’s that it’s situated right in the middle of all three Nations to offer true neutrality… or something to that extent. Yes, Edelgard, Dimitri, and I are the heirs of our Nation, but as long as we are here, and we wear these uniforms, we are equals. All the students at that. And you, as the new Professor, actually outrank us, ya know?”

“Outrank?” Fern just repeated, utterly still trying to understand just how underqualified for this job she truly was, “But… while I understand the philosophies behind that, and see the merit of it, for me, to refer to any of you as anything but…” she paused, and Claude just gave a little laugh.

“You are quite the breath of fresh air in these halls, you know?” he noted, and she cutely tilted her head in confusion, “I mean, with how… proud some of my classmates can be, the fact that one of our future instructors, despite being our age, and outranking us, is so modest and polite and… well, sweet, it’s rather welcomed, I’ll admit. So, friendly advice from one of your future students… maybe, still not sure how this is going to work, but anyways… just call us by name. No titles, no status, no nothing. To you I am Claude, while, of course, I do owe you the respect of your title Professor Fern.”

This actually made her blush, which just made him laugh again, “…I am not used to that title.”

“It kinda shows,” he noted, “First time in a teaching gig?” he asked, and she just nodded, before he walked closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Come on then, allow Claude to be your guide. With me around, I won’t allow any student to try to take advantage of this kindness and modesty. Let me introduce you to everyone. Rather lucky I was the one who bumped into you first, eh?!”

“Yes, certainly…” Fern just said with a nod, and soon Claude walked with her to the first classroom, which had the banner of the Golden Deer up above, just as several students all turned towards their House Leader walking in with a very significant individual right next to him. Fern instantly felt all eyes on her.

“Alright, alright everyone,” Claude tried, since he knew them, “Before anyone –”

But he was too late.

“Hi there!” Hilda quickly jumped up from the desk (not hers mind you, as she had her butt on the teacher’s desk because of course) and used one hand to just grab Claude’s face and push him aside to properly greet the new Professor, “My name’s Hilda. And oh gosh, you’re so pretty. Like a walking, talking porcelain doll. I fully approve!”

“H-Hilda, Professors at Garreg Mach aren’t chosen for their looks,” Claude tried, brushing his hair back, “Otherwise, how’d you explain Professor Hanneman?”

“Oh, don’t insult the poor old man…” Hilda was now the one trying, but she still burst out into laughter. Fern looked at the very pretty girl with the pink hair and the pink eyes, who looked like an outright fairy tale princess, “But I’m just calling it like I see it,” Hilda added, before she edged closer to Fern, “That said… word of warning, stay away from Sylvain.”

“Claude, Hilda, have you two no manners whatsoever?” a very indignant Lorenz interrupted, as he stepped forwards, as the entire class kept their eyes on the new Professor, “You are making a mockery of the Golden Deer in front of the new Professor, who, if I heard correctly, saved your life,” he added, and Claude did nod, “So you should be proper, always. Please, Professor, forgive my classmates for their lack of delicacy and decorum. I, the Heir of House Gloucester, Lorenz Gloucester, will most certainly prove through my actions that noble or commoner, we all have a responsibility, nah, a duty to treat each other as if –”

“Oh shut up!” Hilda interrupted, using her head to smack Lorenz aside, hitting him right in the nose and making him stammer back, while she remained unfazed, “Ignore him. No titles! I’m Hilda, he’s Lorenz, and you already met and saved Claude… how embarrassing.”

“It was a whole lot of bandits okay?!” Claude argued back, crossing his hands and resting his back to the wall once more.

“More importantly, they said she was an insanely gifted Mage, no?” Leonie joined in, offering Fern a wide grin, “I’m Leonie! A future mercenary trained by the best. Granted, magic is not a subject I much care for, but I do respect it. Besides, as Master Jeralt used to say, a true mercenary should know all types of combat arts even if they do not practice them, so that they instead know how to counter them!”

“That is… very wise,” Fern noted, still overwhelmed by so much attention, “Is this Master of yours a Professor here too?”

“Oh? Master Jeralt? No, he’s a mercenary as well, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Leonie replied, before she felt herself get pulled back, making her let out an annoyed, “Hey!”

“Sorry, if you let this one get started with that topic she won’t shut up,” Hilda sweetly added, which made for a very conflicting image of her speaking so cutely yet pretty much moving Leonie back with just one hand despite the latter’s protests.

“But never mind that! I’m more interested in just how strong that magic is and how it stacks to my strength,” Raphael voiced in, walking up to Fern alongside Ignatz, the two making for quite the polar opposites in every which way possible, “Name’s Raphael by the way, nice to meet ya Teach!”

“Raphael, please address her as Professor… Fern was it, correct?” Ignatz quickly corrected, and when Fern gave the soft looking boy a nod, he did give her a small smile and a little blush, “M-My name is Ignatz, and I’m honored to meet such a powerful and brilliant individual. Out of all my studies of Garreg Mach, I do believe you now hold the title of youngest to ever be appointed as Professor.”

“I-I am?” she tried, but, this was too much.

“Quite, and I do apologize for how improper some of my classmates are,” the youngest of the group, Lysithea, politely spoke up as she walked up to Fern, She glanced up at the girl, trying her best not to be bothered by the fact she just reached Fern’s chest and that felt insulting to her, but more importantly, “But ignoring all that, Professor Fern, if I may implore, Claude recounted you knew of both a spell that granted you flight for a prolonged period of time and you actually summoned several magical sigils, all aimed at an individual opponent respectively, and that by your words you could have fired each of them simultaneously while also remaining airborne. Is this true? And if it is, may I request you teach me how this is achieved?”

“Oi, oi, Lysithea, don’t apologize for what the others say and then ask for the Professor, who I’m not even sure will be assign to our class, to begin a personal lecture just for you,” Claude called out from the back, which made Lysithea just pout at him.

“Nobody asked you!” she shot back, a little less… proper than how she had been intending to sound like, “I am just inquiring. I wasn’t improper, was I Professor Fern?”

“No, not at all, at least this is a subject I am well versed in,” Fern assured her, which made Lysithea smile, as Fern gave the girl a good look, and other than looking adorable, also… ‘What is this I’m sensing? Magic here works differently, I can’t see the Mana around even their spellcasters, but this girl… I can’t see it, but I can feel it. What is that power that seems to flicker from almost nothing to… higher than my own?’

“And speaking of magic,” Hilda called out, all the way in the back, “This girl trying to hide behind a book is Marianne! Come on, Marianne, say ‘hi’ to the nice Professor who saved our useless House Leader.”

“Hey!” Claude complained, but Hilda utterly ignored him.

“I-I… Hilda, I… the Professor shouldn’t bother with someone… like me…” Marianne softly voiced up, clearly uncomfortable, and before Hilda looked about to pick her up or something, Fern did walk up to the two girls and gave Marianne a soft smile.

“Does meeting new people make you nervous?” she asked, softly, and it made the rest of the class all give pause, from the main ones who had all introduced themselves, to all the other ones just observing. Marianne gave her a confused look, but did at least nod. Fern, in turn, gave her a wider smile, “I understand. It is the same for me. I get overwhelmed, and… imagine how I am now, meeting so many of you, all so important. So… if you are not ready to speak, it is fine. Whenever you feel you can reach out, then do so, I do look forwards to meeting you properly Marianne.”

Marianne just stared, seemingly confused and a bit flustered by the softness on display, but she did force a nod and added a soft, “yes Professor, thank you” in response.

As this unfolded, Hilda gave the two some space and went towards Claude, resting her back to the wall, right next to him.

“So, is she really that strong or was this just another one of your schemes?” Hilda asked, her sharp eyes on him. It just made him laugh.

“You give me too much credit,” he just noted, “Had the bandits been a non-threat, even if I did nothing, I was with Dimitri and Edelgard, and they aren’t exactly pushovers. She, and the young man named Stark, who is kinda like a male version of you now that I think of it…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Well, he’s nicer, but can swing a mean axe strong enough to level a forest,” he explained, while laughing at her reaction.

“…As if I could do something like that,” Hilda just denied, and shifted her eyes back to the new Professor, who was getting swarmed by all the students now asking her about everything while Lorenz tried and failed to uphold order in the House, all while Fern tried her best to just go along with it and wonder just how was she supposed to do this job…

-0-

“Professor Fern, so glad to see you,” Dimitri quickly greeted the moment Fern walked into their classroom, instantly noticing the large Blue Lions banner, “I heard you will be teaching one of the classes here at Garreg Mach, but have not been told which one. Are you in the liberty to say?”

“Hello Mi-I mean, Dimitri,” Fern greeted, reminding herself to avoid titles of any kind, “And I haven’t been informed yet myself. I am merely trying to meet you all, and Claude was already kind enough to introduce me to the Golden Deer House.”

“Of course he did,” Dimitri said with a sigh, “That man has been eying you like a hawk since you displayed your prowess when you saved us. Clearly he has interest in you forming part of the Alliance, but I must not be a hypocrite, as seeing both you and Professor Stark’s abilities, I too am tempted to extend an offer to have you both take a tour of the Kingdom and see if such a lovely place would be to your liking.”

“Do not immediately invite complete strangers into our territory just because you were too weak to save yourself or our allies Boar Prince,” a dark young man, Felix, added, his arms crossed against his chest, and his sharp eyes first on Dimitri, then on Fern, “And she’s the all-powerful Mage you spoke so highly about? She seems unimpressive. Where’s the Warrior, the one you said whose strength matched your own?”

“Felix, please, do not speak to a Professor in such a manner,” Dimitri called out, and while his tone was still as polite as ever, Fern could note a slight shift in his tone. It was so easy to miss, but one that Felix just dismissed with a simple click of his tongue and turning away. But before Dimitri, or Fern for that matter, could add to that, they were interrupted when Fern’s hand was suddenly held ever so gently…

“Saving our Prince while being this beautiful should be a crime in itself,” Sylvain spoke up, having outright materialized in-between Fern and Dimitri, surprising both, “One should have their skills maxed out in strength or charm, not both. Please inform me of the proper protocol required to request… private sessions with you Professor, as I have a lack in understanding in the subject of –”

Before a flustered Fern could even interpret half of what this bold redhaired guy was saying, who reminded her a bit of Stark but acted nothing like him, Sylvain was on bent knee before her one second, then got sent flying away as a wooden lance was smashed against his face and he was made to crash into the nearby desks, left with his legs up, buried in desks and chairs.

“Consent is a class you need tutoring in, and I can offer that on the Professor’s behalf!” Ingrid… interrupted, before the blonde girl turned to Fern, “Apologies. That’s Sylvain, a decent enough Knight in training, but abysmal at everything else. I am Ingrid, and if he gives you trouble, let me know. I few good smacks usually do the trick, right Sylvain?”

“…y-yeah, message received…” a still buried under wood Sylvain replied, just sticking out his hand and offering Ingrid a thumbs up.

“Excuse me,” Fern heard, then paused, as she felt her sleeve be pulled, and turned to see the cutest girl just smiling so widely at her. Next to her was a frankly beautiful young lady, with the nicest eyes of anyone she had met so far, “…My name’s Annette, and this is Mercie, erm, Mercedes. You see, we’re both from the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad and we heard from Dimitri that you had cast spells without using a Grimoire and even showed the capability of flight!”

“Annie, take a deep breath, you’ll overwhelm Professor Fern,” Mercedes came to her defense, offering Fern a warm smile, “I do apologize, Annie just gets so excited about learning magic from other Nations, so imagine her thrill at meeting a Mage from another continent.”

“You were just as excited as I was!”

“Y-Yes, but we can be… a little less this, I suppose.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Fern replied, softly smiling at both girls. They seemed sweet, “I am also curious about your own magic system, as it is different from the one I’ve been trained on. Perhaps we can discuss it, alongside with Lysithea of the Golden Deer House, since she was also… very interested in that.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes total sense she would be,” Annette added, “Oh, and if you haven’t met him yet, be warned about Linhardt. He’s kinda a weirdo.”

“Annie don’t speak like that about our classmates.”

“But he is!” Annette just shot back, before she then reached out and pulled a boy her age from his desk and towards Fern, “And Ashe, don’t hide! Say high to our new Professor!”

“I-I was going to, I wasn’t planning on being rude…” Ashe tried to defend himself, but did give Fern a soft nod and added, “I-I’m Ashe, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Thank you so much for saving our Prince.”

“Yeah, for real, to think we almost lost Dimitri,” Annette added.

“Thank the Goddess you and the other new Professor we haven’t met saved him; and Claude and Edelgard too,” Mercedes concluded, her hand over her chest, and while not to the extent of Lysithea, Fern could feel a potent magic from both these girls.

As Fern was once again swarmed with students asking her about everything, from her powers, her own studies, her love life (for some reason), to who did her hair (also for some reason), Dimitri stood back and smiled at the scene, before he turned to the only classmate that had not approached Professor Fern (excluding Felix, who didn’t approach, but did make his intentions clear anyways), “…You know, you can talk to her. I don’t think she holds any beliefs of what you may be thinking.”

At this Dedue just shook his head.

“I understand your Majesty, but I shall keep my distance from her not for my own sake, but for hers,” he explained, and Dimitri just frowned, “I do plan, if I am able, to thank her for doing the job that I should have done, and doing so in a much more efficient way than I ever could. But for now, it is in her best interest she not interact with a man from Duscur.”

“…I, if you feel that’s for the best…” an unconvinced Dimitri noted, even if he didn’t agree. But he knew if he forced the issue Dedue would then go greet Professor Fern as if he was ordered to, which was not Dimitri’s intention, so for now, he’d allow Professor Fern to get more accustomed to Garreg Mach, and hopefully, have her and Dedue meet naturally…

-0-

The last stop was the Black Eagles’ Classroom, banner and all, and Fern had to double check and make sure they were called the “Black” Eagles, since everything else pointed to them being color coded with red, but, whatever. She greeted by a much quitter class that the prior two, unexpectedly, as no sooner as she walked in, she saw the girl she had helped, Edelgard, giving a lecture herself to the class, with all of them listening to her. Seeing Fern walk in, however, made Edelgard give a pause.

“Oh? Seems we have an important guest,” Edelgard noted, before she smiled at Fern, “Greeting Professor. In the mornings I like to go through each subject and see where my Class is at, academically speaking, given how short staffed Garreg Mach currently is, but, well, given you, I feel that may soon change,” she added, before she turned to the others, “Everyone, this is Professor Fern, one of the two you owe me still being here, so be respectful and greet her properly.”

“You are one of the ones who saved Edie?!” a very excited, and frankly beautiful, young woman quickly rushed over to Fern, “My name’s Dorothea, and it is a pleasure to meet you Professor. Thank you so much for saving our adorable princess!”

“…No need for the compliments Dorothea…” a slightly flustered Edelgard tried.

“It is indeed!” Ferdinand added, walking up to Fern alongside Dorothea, “Edelgard is our future Emperor, and as members of the Empire, we would be distraught to lose her. I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and I am likewise as grateful.”

“I only did what anyone would do,” Fern tried to downplay, smiling at the two. They both sounded so genuine, so she liked them, “But it is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Hey, wasn’t there two new Professor’s joining?” Caspar called out, balancing himself on his chair, feet on his desk, eyes to Fern, “I’m Caspar by the way, sorry for skipping that, but I am super eager to meet the new… what was it? Second Combat Instructor?”

“Assistant Combat Instructor to Professor Jeritza,” Linhardt corrected, before he walked up to Fern, “And greeting Professor Fern. My name is Linhardt, and I must say, I am quite curious by the magic Edelgard described as you utilizing. Could you please inform me what your Crest is?”

“…My Crest?” Fern asked, and while, for a moment, everyone (except Linhardt) thought that perhaps the Professor found such a direct and personal question to be too forwards, and Edelgard was about to scold him for it, she instead left them all in a daze when she added, “…What’s a Crest?”

“Eh?” Ferdinand blurted out.

“You don’t have…?” Dorothea added.

“Wait, what about the other dude?! Does he…?!” Caspar cried out.

“You’re not lying…” Linhardt observed, “You really aren’t from Fódlan at all, are Crests not on your continent? Now that is such a thrilling subject, to think, if Edelgard’s retelling is even remotely correct, then such powerful magic, without the aid of a Crest, would simply be –”

“Enough, the new Professor is not here for you to analyze her!” Dorothea quickly came to Fern’s defense, using the palm of her hand and grabbing Linhardt by his face and making him shut up. While he complained, he was too tired to fight her off, so he just let her drag him back. Instead, Dorothea then turned, and signaled to another girl, “Besides, she had yet to even meet everyone. That, for example, is our other princess. Petra!”

Fern turned to the girl with the ponytail who gave her a soft bow. “Correct. I am Petra, of Bridgid. This... language is new for I, so I apologize if mistakes I make. I will make corrections, and if you need… stuff… inform me and I will do the… stuff.”

The girl was clearly making pauses, not out of timidness, but rather, the language barrier, but that nevertheless impressed Fern. This school seemed very strict, and for her to be here despite this not being her first language was noteworthy, so she offered Petra a smile and said, “Yes, of course, and anything you need, I will also assist in any way I can.”

“Oh, and by the way, this one over here hiding under her desk,” Ferdinand added, lifting the desk fort the girl had built for herself with his foot, “Is Bernadetta. She’s… a little shy.”

‘I can relate,’ was Fern’s instant response, but she bit down that automatic reply (she was supposed to be a teacher), so instead she offered the girl with the messy hair and tired eyes a little smile, “That is fine. I have dealt with social anxiety quite a lot as well. You don’t need to greet me just yet. We can do that later.”

“…thanks,” was the only word she got out of Bernadetta, but she supposed it was enough. Meanwhile, still standing at the back of the classroom, just as Fern was, for the third time in a row, swarmed, Edelgard stood next to her future advisor, who had the most disapproving look imaginable.

“Are you sure this is wise Milady?” Hubert asked, his eyes still locked onto this new “Professor”, “The scenario you described, where these individuals just happened to appear at the exact moment you all needed before something worse happened sounds pre-planned. Could someone had leaked that –”

“Enough Hubert,” Edelgard called out, “I was hesitant as well, and I am still wary about all three of them, even the other Mage I didn’t get to speak to much, but I find it difficult to believe even they would have such reach. For now just follow my lead and allow me to learn of them. This girl… interests me. And nothing in her screams distrusting, so, please, no acting behind my back.”

Hubert seemed inclined to argue, but he relented with naught but a sigh, before he followed Edelgard as she walked up to Professor Fern and with naught but a look made the whole class back away from her and give the poor girl some room.

“I do apologize for how they are, but I assure you it is with the best intentions,” Edelgard noted, “It is a delight to have you join us here, and I do hope you are given our House, but even if not, I still want to thank you again for what you and Professor Stark did for Dimitri, Claude, and I.”

“…And I suppose I should thank you as well,” Hubert added, reluctantly, his firm gaze on Fern’s, “I am Hubert von Vestra. Milady Edelgard’s loyal adviser and right-hand man. As long as she is content, and you do not pose any threat to her safety, you will have no problems with me.”

“Hubert…” Edelgard voiced, making him feel a twitch in his eye. How was he supposed to do his job with such a trusting Emperor-to-be?

“That’s no way to talk to a lady Hubert, buddy,” Ferdinand added, and Hubert felt another sigh coming.

“I do not wish to hear such dribble from you of all people,” Hubert just called out, “And I am not your… ‘buddy’.”

“…Again, I apologize. They are… resistant to change, some more than others…” Edelgard tried to salvage, but Fern just nodded, her eyes scanning each one. In this class in particular, she could feel a strong magic presence in Dorothea, another one in Hubert, even if it felt… darker, almost like if she were looking at Übel, which was slightly freaky, and of course, Linhardt, who seemed to have… fallen asleep on his desk. Okay, no matter what class she got, she wanted either of the other two, not this one.

“No worries,” Fern still assured Edelgard, “I thank you for your time, and I should…”

Then it hit her.

With Edelgard before her.

It wasn’t there before. No magic to sense. But for a split second, she felt it. A huge surge of… something.

Fern’s eyes widened, and she had to fight the fight or flight response that almost triggered by crying at her to summon her staff. She felt her skin grow cold, as Edelgard, still standing before her and smiling, only tilting her head slightly at why Fern had suddenly gone quiet, had somehow gotten a surge of magic that felt outright… demonic.

But just as quick as she felt it, it was gone, with not even a trace of it left…

-0-

Fern ended up back at Rhea’s office, and she felt super awkward, as said office was filled with people, but she knew none of them. Where was her Master Frieren? Still, she did her best to stand tall and proud, and offer a nod to all these people she did not know.

“Have you concluded you tour sweetheart?” Rhea asked, and Fern nodded.

“Lady Rhea, please do not dismiss me so…” a man with green hair, Seteth, tried, “No offense meant to the young lady here, but to assign her as Professor to a class? First-Class Mage or otherwise, we know not of their grading system or requirements, much less…”

“Brother,” a younger girl, hair just as green, Flayn, quickly cut in, “If Lady Rhea agreed, it has to be a wise choice. Plus, if it was created by Master Serie, then you of all people should know how ruthless those tests must be.”

As Seteth did flinch at the mention of Serie’s name, the other two individuals in that office walked up to Fern. One was an older gentleman, Hanneman, while the other a mature woman, Manuela; and they both gave Fern a polite greeting.

“Please pay Seteth no mind, he is awfully paranoid,” Hanneman offered, “We are too short staffed as is that we were even considering offering Jeritza the position of Professor and then finding out how to assign maybe a Knight for the Combat Arena classes… if missions would even allow it.”

“But now with such a pretty girl joining our ranks I think we are quite set!” Manuela added, all smiles, even if she did shift her eyes to the side, towards where the combat arena was, “And, while I have yet to meet him, I caught a glimpse of the new Assistant Combat Instructor. Quite the sight at that. Are you family my dear?”

“Oh? With Mist… With Stark? No, we are not…” Fern noted, even if it felt weird to even call Stark by just his name, but if that was how they did things here, she wouldn’t want to make his job any harder.

“Oh? Perhaps then… something else?” Manuela inquired, a sparkle in her eyes Fern didn’t quite understand but it still somehow flustered her.

“N-No, we are teammates, part of the same Party,” Fern tried to explain, “And he is a dear friend, and a very trustworthy companion. That is… all…”

While Manuela looked utterly unconvinced, and Hanneman seemed to be itching to ask her something but was retraining himself, Rhea spoke up again.

“But, let us not stand on ceremony. Classes got delayed due to certain events that cannot reoccur,” Rhea noted, firmly, “So classes will begin tomorrow, so please, Fern, as our new Professor, I will allow you to choose which Class you wish to Lead. Please… which one of the Three Houses do you wish to become the Professor to?”

“I choose…?” Fern asked, a bit surprised, but at least, this was a welcomed opportunity, because she could try to teach the class she had an easier time with, in theory at least. So, she went though her own mental notes of every notable student of each House…

From the Golden Deer House, they had their House Leader and the Leicester Alliance Future Leader, Claude von Riegan; alongside the spunky and shockingly strong Hilda Goneril, the boastful Lorenz Gloucester, the magic enthusiast Lysithea von Ordelia, the mercenary-trained Leonie Pinelli, the very quiet Marianne von Edmund, the very loud and buff Raphael Kirsten, and the timid but gentle Ignatz Victor.

This House made the most sense, it felt like there were no troublemaking students, and as long as she kept Hilda from teasing anyone, kept Lorenz in check, and begged Lysithea to give her some time, it could work out, but she couldn’t just dismiss…

From the Blue Lions House, they had their House Leader and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus’ Prince Dimitri Blaiddyd, his silent bodyguard Dedue Molinaro, the angry black cat that was Felix Hugo Fraldarius, the dutiful and proper Ingrid Galatea, the walking restraining order Sylvain Jose Gautier, the eager magic graduate Annette Dominic, the religious and very nice Mercedes von Martritz, and the sweetheart Ashe Ubert.

And while she could see herself leading this class, with how dismissive Felix had been, how she hadn’t even gotten to greet Dedue, and how problematic Sylvain acted, perhaps a more seasoned instructor should take that class instead. But that left…

From the Black Eagles House, they had their House Leader and the Adestrian Empire’s Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, her advisor and very unpleasant individual Hubert von Vestra, the gentleman that was Ferdinand von Aegir, the lovely Dorothea Arnault, the rowdy Caspar von Bergliez, the one she was warned about Linhardt von Hevring, the insanely shy Bernadetta von Varley, and Bridgid’s Princess still learning this language Petra Macneary.

This Class certainly needed a seasoned Professor, not someone like her. So, taking a moment to think of her answer, she turned to Lady Rhea, and began, “I have decided, and I thank you for the opportunity to do so. I wish, if possible, to offer my guidance to…”

With Edelgard before her. It wasn’t there before. No magic to sense. But for a split second, she felt it. A huge surge of… something.

“…Edelgard, I…” she mouthed, softly, as that sensation seemed to had etched itself onto her mind, but…

“Edelgard’s Class?” Rhea interpreted this as her answer, and Fern felt herself turn pale, “You wish to lead the Black Eagles then?”

And she almost cried out a “no!” in response, but she held back. There was… something there. And she wasn’t sure if the girl was a danger, or if the girl was in danger. And… damn it, she couldn’t just overlook that just for her own safety. So, she sighed, and relented.

“Yes,” she said, and she died inside, “I pick the Black Eagles.”

Yes, she hated being a good girl.

-0-

Just outside the main office, Claude stood by, shaking his head in dismay.

“Darn, and I had sworn we had given off the best first impression,” Claude noted, but before he could leave, he turned and was surprised to find someone before him, “Oh? This is new. This area is off-limit to students, ya know?”

“Which is why I presumed I’d find you here,” Dimitri noted, “Listening in to what Class the new Professor will be given.”

“Incorrect, actually,” Claude said with a smirk, and when Dimitri looked confused, he added, “They allowed her to pick. Or, well, Lady Rhea did.”

“Oh… and, wait, that doesn’t change the topic,” Dimitri tried, “You shouldn’t be here. We owe this people our gratitude. Not to be trying to manipulate them into siding with our Nations. They are impartial, and impartial they should remain.”

“Oh really? Then why are all three of us here?”

“…Three?” Dimitri paused, before he turned back, and saw Edelgard as she just walked up the steps, paused, frowned, and sighed.

“Hey there Princess,” Claude just greeted, “Careful, Dimitri here says this area is off-limits to students.”

“And he’d be correct,” Edelgard shot back, “But my purpose is precisely you. You purposely waited for Professor Fern to walk through the halls to meet up with her and introduce your Class first, didn’t you?”

“You wound me, as if I would do such a thing.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you…” Dimitri noted, eyes narrowed.

“And that made her visit me last,” Edelgard complained, “Meaning that we probably gave the worst impression thanks to you.”

“I don’t think your class would give that horrible an impression Edelgard,” Dimitri tried, then considered it, before he began to mutter, “Granted… Linhardt would probably be very pushy when it comes to magic and Crests, while getting Bernadetta to even attend classes would be a chore, and that’s not even getting into Hubert…”

“…You are not helping Dimitri,” Edelgard noted, her left eye twitching.

“Apologies,” he quickly added.

“And don’t get your royal undergarments in a twist you two,” Claude just said, making them both blush and turn to him, with Dimitri looking at him like a disappointed parent and Edelgard like if she wanted to just smack him, before he added, “Besides, nothing we can do anyways. So, congrats Edelgard.”

“Huh?” Dimitri asked.

“Congrats, me?” Edelgard also asked.

“Yeah. She picked you,” Claude concluded, and honestly, none of them even knew why.

-0-

At that exact time…

“Oh, hey, good morning,” Stark introduced himself, offering a little wave, “You must be Professor Jeritza. I’ve been instructed to –”

But the sudden sense of bloodlust made the young man freeze in place, his hand instantly at the hilt of his axe, as the masked Knight, who had not even turned to him, made this Combat Arena, despite how large it was, feel outright claustrophobic with his mere presence.

“…I was informed,” Jeritza said, coldly, “That Lady Rhea wishes you to be my… assistant. I need none. But I cannot go against her wishes either. Draw your axe and take your stance…” he ordered, as he turned, his own lance on hand, his eyes dead-set of Stark’s, “I have no need for ‘Assistants’ who can’t even keep up with me. So, duel me, and if you survive, then, and only then, will I allow you to partake in this role.”

%

The Bell Has Been Rung! School Begins… Now!

Chapter Text

After her disastrous decision of picking the absolute worst possible House, and she assumed, route in this Academy that seemed like, despite it’s very religious roots and theme, the Gods themselves had outright forsaken, Fern found herself walking along the halls away from Lady Rhea’s main office on the second floor and back down the stairs towards the first floor. She needed an open space, fresh air, to think carefully of what she actually was planning to do.

‘I am not a teacher, that much is certain,’ she inwardly noted, as she took a look around and saw many of the students walking by, all in a rush for some reason. Did they have class already? She was informed she was stated to begin tomorrow, not today, so they shouldn’t be any of hers. The… wait, Black Eagles was it? Then why did they wear so much red? This was beyond confusing, ‘…but what I felt, in that girl, I feel I cannot ignore. There was something there, something dark, like a flame that could spread at a moment’s notice if left unchecked, but… can I really make such a hypothesis? I only felt a glimpse of something resembling that, and my current state had me quite nervous, so it wouldn’t be out of the question that I just misinterpreted something… Magic here works differently. That other young girl, Lysithea, her power fluctuates so wildly, it’s almost incomprehensible to me. It goes down to barely nothing, yet, for a flicker… almost matches Mistress Frieren’s. That… That can’t be, I must be reading this magic wrong. I –’

“You seem distracted,” Fern heard a familiar voice speak up, and she gave pause, turning to the side, her eyes on her Mistress Frieren, still looking quite pleased, “I feel I should congratulate you on your new position as Professor, but I feel you are not too happy with this, and as I have not explained myself properly yet, that could earn me the cold shoulder of yours which I am not very fond of, so… are you mad?”

“Mistress Frieren I am beyond confused is what I am,” Fern replied, “In what world do you think me capable of being a teacher, a… Professor to future rulers of an entire Nation?”

“You are a First-Class Mage after all, I wouldn’t sell your talents short,” Frieren noted, and Fern just pouted.

“Yes, because Master Serie deemed it as such,” Fern replied, “Her exam was unconventional at best, random at worst. And very much biased, as in no world do I deserve this title over you.”

“I… wouldn’t be so sure,” Frieren disagreed, beginning to take slow steps, as Fern joined her, as they walked down the halls, “Yes, Serie is… Serie, and she very much wouldn’t let me pass no matter what, but if there’s one thing I will agree with her is that you are more than qualified of the title of First-Class Mage.”

“…That still doesn’t make me a good teacher.”

“Neither did Heiter tricking me into training you make me a good teacher,” Frieren softly shot back, as Fern paused, her wide eyes on her Master, who turned to her with a soft smile, “And yet, here I am, quite proud of all you’ve accomplished. You didn’t gain your title or skills because of me, I merely showed you how, and you earned them yourself. It’s the same principle with these kids. Be yourself, assertive but kind, serious but understanding, and focus on what they need and just show them the correct path. They will figure it out on their own. This academy is quite illustrious, so for them to be here, they’re not dumb. With just a bit of guidance they should be able to accomplish their study goals without you having to do too much out of your comfort zone.”

“…If it’s so easy you should have taken the job…”

“Don’t be like that,” Frieren noted, eyes to Fern, “Like I said, I have my own study to conduct, one which, like I promised, could end our journey and I can then give my full focus to you. No more taking time for granted, is that not what you wish I would do?”

“I am not convinced,” Fern noted matter-of-factly.

“…You really have lost faith in me,” Frieren noted with a little smile, not at all serious, “I will tell you; I promise. I just don’t want you to be either worried about me or excited about the potential until I understand this fully.”

“That just makes me more nervous.”

“Then I’m telling you not to be.”

“…That doesn’t work that way.”

“Look, if you need assistance, I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere,” Frieren replied, “Besides, I feel it would do you some good to hang around kids your own age, since outside of Stark and a few that we met during the exams, you’re usually surrounded by members of the older generations.”

“Some even ancient.”

“I will pretend you mean Serie and not me,” Frieren added, “Besides, I also have work to do here.”

“Besides the research on your new grimoire Mistress Frieren?” Fern asked, head tilted for a moment.

“Yes, I’m not just having fun either,” Frieren explained, “I did come to an agreement with Rhea, in which as long as I am allowed to council both you and Stark, and should the need arise, intervene; she asks in return that I serve as a… consultant for her Knights of Serios. Not an official member by any capacity, but should the need arise, that I accompany them on the more dangerous missions and offer my own magical knowledge to them to hopefully lessen any casualties, be they civilian or from the Knights themselves.”

“That sounds risky…”

“I mean, yes, but it’s –”

“What Himmel the Hero would do,” Fern cut in, knowing exactly what Frieren would say, making the elf give pause, turn to Fern, pout, before she just let out a little laugh.

“Do I really say it that much?” she asked, and Fern nodded, even if she adored how her Mistress Frieren did say it. It sounded so genuine and pure, almost like, well, what she assumed Himmel the Hero was. This super man who, against all odds, guided a party of unlikely adventures into the most dangerous mission imaginable and ended the reign of the worst being to ever walk this world.

Then, as they made their way out onto the fields, which gave Fern some much needed fresh air, they both saw a lot of students continue to rush past them, headed to some type of coliseum at the far end. Both Master and Student tilted their heads at the same time at this. Granted, several students did give a brief pause, and took a look at the two, but it seemed whatever was happening over there took precedence, so they said nothing and continued to rush over.

“Seems something of note is happening,” Frieren noted.

“Even so, a lot of the students keep looking our way,” Fern added, her eyes on Frieren, “Which makes me wonder, have they not heard of an elf before?”

“Most likely not, there are not many of us and our culture has slowly all but vanished,” Frieren replied, but she also, somewhat had another hunch about no student had actually asked her about her ears or race or anything like that, and she just turned her gaze to Fern’s chest, “…I can think of two other reasons why the students’ focus would be elsewhere though.”

“Oh? And what would those be?” Fern innocently asked, which made Frieren smile a bit. She really needed to protect this girl. But, before she could change the subject, the two found themselves receiving an official salute from a young man clad in shiny armor.

“Greetings!” he said, “All of us who work her for security purposes were just informed about the newest Professor set to lead the Black Eagle House. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Professor, and the acquaintance of your own Master as well.”

“Oh? How very kind,” Fern noted, offering a soft bow, “My name is Fern.”

“Frieren,” the Master added.

“Dully noted,” the chipper young man voiced, “I am but a humble Gatekeeper of this Academy, you know, just lingering around and looking good for all the ladies who will… I mean, and guard these gates with my very life if need be, zero hesitation!”

“How… heroic,” Frieren just said.

“Um… Mister Gatekeeper?” Fern added, a bit confused but pressing forward, “About all the students rushing over… is something happening?”

“Oh! You must mean the spectacle about to go down at the Battle Arena!” the Gatekeeper informed them, which made both of them just blink. That was a battle arena? “It is a rare sight indeed, one which, due to my post, I cannot witness myself, but it seems Professor Jeritza has challenged the new Assistant Combat Professor to a duel, and, well, something we all know here is… well, Professor Jeritza in combat is a beast, so the chance to see him fight must be something absolutely incredible!”

“W-Wait… against the Assistant Combat Professor?” Fern asked, eyes widening, “Isn’t that…?”

“We should probably go too then…” Frieren noted, a little urgency in her tone, because she had no idea who this Professor Jeritza even was.

“Enjoy the show you two!” the Gatekeeper told them both, waving to them as the went towards the arena, “And if anything else comes up worthy of reporting, do not worry, I shall keep you ladies informed!”

-0-

“Must we?” Jeritza asked with barely hidden disdain, as the battle proctor handed him a wooden katana. He took it by the handle, giving the wooden “blade” a look of utter disdain.

“Seteth insists that if you wish to go through with this, proper security measures must be taken,” the man informed him, “In his words, ‘either use the wooded katanas, or there will be no duel at all’, so it is your choice Professor.”

“I see…” Jeritza noted, then turned his sharp eyes to Stark, who had also been given an identical toy, more or less, “I suppose if I must, then I shall. With this, we are both handicapped, not only by the lack of metal in our respective weapons, but what mine now lacks in the range of my lance, your lacks in the power of your axe.”

“How very accommodating… heh, heh… heh…” a very nervous Stark just noted, holding onto the wooden sword firmly, ‘I have… absolutely no clue how to use a sword! Like, yeah, I guess the basics are still the same, swing the sharp side at your opponent, but it feels so light… Can I even fight with this? Granted, this is just practice, even if this guy looks super scary, he is a Professor, so surely he just wants a friendly spar…’

“The match will be just three minutes!” the proctor instructed, “Whoever lands the most hits on the opponents body will be declared the winner, or of course if either part falls unconscious or surrenders, then the opponent is declared the victor. The match begins as soon as I turn this hourglass,” he added, showing a small sand hourglass that was timed to exactly three minutes to the grain, “So, Professor Jeritza. Professor Stark. Take your stances.”

“Please… do not disappoint me,” Jeritza told him, holding onto the sword with just one arm, stretched out, almost as if he were still holding onto a lance instead.

“…I-I hope so too…” a worried Stark replied, planting his feet firmly on this dirt, eyes on the circular battle arena for a brief moment, currently with the seats and beyond filled with eager students all wanting to witness this duel, which just made it worse. But he still held onto the sword with both of his hands, and pointed the tip towards Jeritza, all to measure the distance and hopefully gauge what kind of opponent his new… coworker was.

Up above, looking down at the match, you could barely hear anything as all the students gossiped, but mostly…

“That guy was the ‘warrior’ who saved Edelgard?” Caspar asked, utterly unimpressed, “Dude does not look that strong!”

“Yeah, like, where are his muscles? I was expecting him to be, you know, beefy,” Raphael added.

“Strength is not determined by muscle mass alone Raphael,” Ignatz tried, his eyes on the two Professors, even if yes, the new one did look… almost nervous.

“His form is pathetic,” Felix just snarked, “He has absolutely no idea how to hold a blade. Were that a real sword, this battle would be over before the one-minute mark after he accidentally stabs himself.”

“Cut him some slack Felix,” Sylvain countered, “Professor Jeritza just said he mostly uses an axe, so he’s probably unused to swords. Not like you’re a weapon master yourself capable of using all types,” he added, and Felix just sneered.

“That is most certainly true,” Dimitri added, eyes on the battlefield, “Professor Jeritza himself is holding onto the sword as if it were a lance. They both seem more comfortable using their own styles. Let the battle itself serve as proof of their skills, not just initial impressions from nothing but a stance.”

“He is not a noble, from what I’ve heard,” Ferdinand noted, eyes on Stark, “But I do agree with you Dimitri. As Edelgard herself can attest, even if I will soon surpass her, one’s strength cannot be measured by just a glance.”

“If he’s not a noble then all the more it is our duty to watch over him,” Lorenz chimed in, “We cannot allow him to be harmed. Professor Jeritza is not known for… holding back.”

As all the boys crowded the edge of the arena, some more eager than others, as the likes of Dedue, Ashe, and Linhardt sat further away, the latter probably asleep on his chair, while Hubert hung behind Edelgard herself like a living shadow, the girls, on the other hand.

“Boys hear a fight’s about to go down and immediately become children again, so, so dumb,” Hilda called out, seated, resting her head on her arms, pout in place, “Why was I dragged here?”

“…You dragged me…” Marianne muttered, since she had been more than content to staying at the classroom or her room, but no, Hilda had almost carried her here because something big was happening.

“You just expected drama as opposed to action,” Lysithea called out, her eyes on Hilda.

“Well, at least you could drag your shy girl over, we couldn’t make Bernie move an inch,” Dorothea noted with a sheepish laugh.

“She is stubbornly,” Petra added, her sharp eyes on the battle about to go down, “I cannot miss this. It is importantly for me.”

“Important for me is what you wish to say,” Ingrid corrected, with a soft smile, “But I will agree with Hilda on the fact that the boys here are not taking this seriously at all.”

“I mean, duh, all they have in their brain is fighting after all,” Annette noted, pout and all, “I wanted magic, not this. Why do only boys get what they want?!”

“I understand your sentiment Annie,” Mercedes softly added, but, “However, it is unfair to call out just the boys on their enthusiasm,” she noted, and as all the girls turned to her, confused, she pointed to where the boys were all cheering, and said, “Is she not one of yours Hilda?”

And Hilda felt her eye outright twitch.

“Come on! Start already! Let’s go, go, go!” Leonie cheered the loudest, seated on Raphael’s shoulders to get the best view, as the cheers erupted even louder at her shouts, making the arena almost shake in anticipation.

Frieren and Fern walked in, just in time to see the battle about to begin, and Fern gave pause, noticing Stark had his full focus on his opponent, who… had nothing she could sense. Strange, she would have imagined she would have.

“Here to see the duel Professor Fern?” Edelgard voiced, approaching the two, “I must admit I haven’t seen such excitement in here for a while.”

“Oh, Edelgard, hello,” Fern quickly greeted, “And… Hubert, greetings.”

“Yes, greetings Professor,” Hubert noted, even if his eyes seemed more focus on Frieren than on Fern.

“You never quite described your relationship to our new Combat Instructor,” Edelgard noted, which made Fern inwardly flinch, “And do not worry, gossip is not my thing. I am merely curious.”

“Is that not the root of gossip Milady?” Hubert noted.

“Oh shush you, you know what I mean,” Edelgard quickly dismissed, before she turned to Fern and Frieren, “Or about your history with Master Frieren,” Edelgard added, offering Frieren a bow, “It is an honor to see you once more.”

“You needn’t be so formal Princess,” Frieren just voiced, but did nod, “And I believe you’ll have ample time to chat with Fern over the course of the year.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard noted, and while Fern tried to focus on her, and sensed absolutely nothing, Edelgard’s eyes just fell onto Frieren’s ears, “You don’t possess… transformation magic, now do you?”

Frieren turned to her, and could see this girl was almost outright looking right through her. She just stared back, feeling just the smallest inkling of…

“Begin!”

The sudden shout from the proctor, followed by the roar of almost all the students, took attention away from Edelgard and made both Fern and Frieren focus on the duel below, as the hourglass was turned, grain by grain, counting down from three full minutes, and just as the first grain touched the base of the hourglass, Jeritza charged, with a speed so blinding that many of the students had trouble even seeing him. Before his wooden sword made contact with Stark who blocked his attack at the last second, the sheer force of the clash blowing dust all-around.

“Damn, that was fast!” Leonie noted with utter glee.

“Yeah, that was quite the strong hit, and the new Professor still blocked it… Awesome!” Raphael joined in.

‘T-This guy…!’ Stark could barely think, as he felt like he had the weight of a demon on him, not just a practice sword.

“…Not a bad start,” Jeritza noted, “You can at least react. Very well, show me… Warrior, how you fight.”

Jeritza shifted his sword and took a swing towards Stark’s face, simply by altering his grip, which Stark dodged by throwing himself to the floor and letting the sword cut the air. He rolled out of the way of a series of low slices that Jeritza aimed at him, before he managed to flip himself back onto his feet and parry Jeritza’s next swing with his own, but the force was too much, and outright made Stark lose his grip and it sent his practice sword right out of his hand, flying up into the sky…

“See? That moron can’t even hold the damn –” Felix began, but even before he could finish…

…Stark barely dodged a back swing from Jeritza, jumped upwards, and grabbed his sword in the air with his mouth, before he spun around, still in the air, and landed with his feet on the arena’s walls, just below where the students had all gathered to watch. Here, before any of them could even react, he retook the sword with his hand, tightened his grip, and used the wall to impulse himself to Jeritza, creating an outright crack on the wall which made all the weaker students all cry out and back away.

“You were saying?” Dimitri, utterly unmoved, asked, as Felix just scoffed.

Stark used all the momentum to strike down at Jeritza, more or less his trademark attack but with a very different weapon, but Jeritza was able to block it, even if his eyes widened slightly when he felt his own feet get buried a bit into the ground. Then he smiled. He took a mad swing at Stark, then another, then another, then another. It was a flurry of attacks, and Stark blocked or dodged each one, even turning around, flipping the sword around his back to block on swing that way, before he flipped back and blocked a frontal attack. The sheer look of ecstasy in Jeritza said it all. What an amazing move.

“W-What’s even going on?” Annette just blurted out, her eyes wide, “I can’t even see the swords at all. They’re moving so fast!”

“That’s true, I can’t follow them either…” Mercedes admitted.

“I hate to admit it, but I can barely follow them myself…” Ingrid noted, eyes narrowed. She could see basically one out of every three swings. How could a human move that fast? Even with the power of a Crest, that shouldn’t be possible. However, she did know… something. Her eyes focused on her future King, Dimitri, and she could see it in his gaze. He was following them perfectly.

“He’s not holding back at all…” Frieren noted.

“W-Which one?” Fern asked, as she turned to Edelgard, who also had her eyes on the duel, “You can follow them?”

“Hmm? Me, no, not quite. Just barely…” she said, but why did it sound like a lie?

A bit further back, on the side, where the girls all sat, eyes wide as plates for most of them, Claude just walked by and gave a whistle at the sight, “Damn, that’s something. Although, I did tell you all Professor Stark was the real deal. This is what happens when you all don’t believe me.”

“Believing you is one thing!” Lysithea called out, pointing at the arena, “But how were we expected to believe something we can barely even see?!”

“I mean, some here can see them,” Claude noted, then boasted, “It’s tricky, but I can follow them.”

“You’re an Archer and a Royal, of course you would. Dimitri and Edelgard probably can too, but for the rest of us…” Lysithea added, before she turned around with a huff.

Claude just smiled, since, yeah, that may be true, but it didn’t actually account for all of the students, since… well, he knew her enough. Just one look, and despite paying only half interest, he could see how Hilda’s eyes were following Jeritza and Stark’s swords quite effortlessly.

And Stark has his eyes glued to the tip of Jeritza’s wooden katana, almost drowning out everything else around him as they dueled, since even if he couldn’t explain it, what was meant to be a professional bout felt more like a fight for his life. And somehow, this human, this instructor of teenagers and young adults… felt outright more demonic that some actual demons he had faced before. That petite demoness, Linie, who had served under Aura the Guillotine and had learned to mimic his Master’s form with nothing but a glance had been a fearsome foe. Yes, she lacked the true strength to ever equal his Master, but she had still managed to imitate him closely enough with observation and demonic abilities alone. But Professor Jeritza?

He felt worse. As if he was barely holding something back in an effort not to outright kill Stark then and there. And Stark had no idea if it was his own paranoia or if this man would legit murder him in combat just to test his skills. Would this Academy, holy ground no less, actually allow that? Then again, maybe the motto of the school was “Learn the teachings of the Goddess, or we’ll send you to meet her.”

But, a missed side swing from Stark proved to be a mistake.

Again, he inwardly cursed, as his body language automatically kicked in and made an attack as if he held his axe, much wider in scope, as opposed to the smaller and slimer katana, which in turn, ended with Jeritza “stabbing” Stark right across the abdomen, making the young man cry out in a gasp as all the air was knocked out him and he was sent flying through the arena and onto the concrete walls, outright shattering a part of them upon impact.

“One hit from Professor Jeritza!” the proctor called out, already about to declare the match over since, well, nobody was getting up from that, but…

“Stark!” Fern cried out, edging closer to the edge, her hands on the rail, the fear evident. That had been way too strong a hit for mere practice. Her glare then shifted to Jeritza, who seemed utterly… disappointed that his hit had connected, “Hey! This is not supposed to be a real battle!”

Jeritza merely took a glace at her, and frowned, “…Oh? The other new Professor. The Mage. I wonder… would you last longer than this one?”

“Last longer?” Fern asked, but not out of confusion, but almost as if… insulted. All the students grew quiet, as they had not expected the other new Professor to call Professor Jeritza out like that. This seemed like it was going to turn into a real fight, but before any could say anything, Fern added, “While I may call out your unprofessionalism, do you believe such a meager attack can knock Mister… I mean, Stark out?”

“F-Fern, please…” Stark voiced up, standing up from the rubble, making a lot of students gasp at how he was not only still even conscious, but able to stand and retake a stance, “Don’t edge the crazy man further, I think he likes it…” he said, barely out of breath, and bleeding a bit from a busted lip. But, just noticing how Jeritza had been looking at Fern, for once, his tone came out a lot… rougher than he intended, “Hey… coworker, eyes on me.”

“Sloppy as his form is, I’ll admit he can take a hit,” Felix noted, arms still crossed against his chest, “Reminds me of you boar, just more pleasant, even if that’s quite the low bar.”

“I will always find your praise, be it for me or anyone else, to be hard to grasp Felix,” Dimitri just noted, since he knew his childhood friend well enough. Or well, not friend, per say, not anymore. Not after Duscur and everything else.

“Forget all that! As impressed as I am by our new Assistant Combat Instructor, like, you all heard how worried Professor Fern sounded no?” Sylvain, priorities clearly elsewhere, asked the two, “You think they’re; you know? Like, dude has red hair and good looks, like yours truly, so maybe that’s her type and she would consider –”

Sylvain wasn’t even able to finish that line of thought before he felt his arm get twisted by some unholy force and he was almost made to kiss the railing when he got held into one hell of a chokehold. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“I’m kidding Ingrid!”

Ingrid, having walked over to where her class was since, despite herself, the fight had turned rather interesting (although, if you asked her, she was there to keep Sylvain in check, not because she was actually excited to see how this fight would unfold), “Do not disrespect our new Professors. Whatever their personal lives are, it is none of your concern. And worse, if they are together, again, none of your concern, you are so not attempting to destroy their relationship or so help me what Professor Jeritza did will look like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you.”

“Noted,” a pained Sylvain just replied, “Now, please, mercy, before that arm bends in a way it shouldn’t.”

As Ingrid sighed and let go of Sylvain, since threaten as much as she would, she would never actually hurt him (not that much anyways), she, alongside everyone else, turned their focus back to the duel. It was here Edelgard approached Fern, who had her glare fixated upon Jeritza.

“Professor Jeritza is well known for how brutal he can be in combat,” Edelgard offered, “Which, yes, when he is doing missions alongside the Knights for the Church, is a blessing I suppose, but he seems to have a hard time turning that… off when it comes to sparring. He’s… gentler with us students, I would say, but not by that much. I could maybe count less than a dozen or so students who would even be able to hold their own against him in one-on-one combat even if he’s holding back. But… Professor Fern, you are officially now of his same rank while within these walls. If you wish to stop this battle, you can, and if he complains, you will have my support.”

Fern just looked on for a moment, her eyes never leaving Jeritza, but she just gripped the metal railings harder, “…I appreciate it, really. But… I know Stark,” was all she said, which made Edelgard give her a… curious look, before Fern then turned to Stark, “He’s just a bully Stark! Stop holding back! He clearly isn’t! He wants you to prove yourself, show them the strength of a man even demons fear!”

As her cry echoed through the arena, which made all students give pause, since, wait, what? What did their new Professor mean by that? Stark sighed, and took a deeper breath, before he steeled himself. “Right, right… We’re doing this for Frieren. And to help her, I need this job.”

Jeritza was about to respond, but one moment Stark was right in his sights, the next, he had vanished. ‘What?’ was all Jeritza could think before he saw Stark’s shadow above him, blocking out the sun, and to the gasps of the students, looked up in time to see Stark motioning a rather serious downswing onto him. He managed to block it, making both wooden swords give out a loud cracking noise as they both almost shattered upon impact, which made Jeritza’s eyes widen. Stark then landed, flipped over, and took a wide back swing, which forced Jeritza to block it as well. He then smirked, ‘I see… You too are still holding back. This is the real you. Interesting… You are now using this toy as if it were your axe. Relentless motions that, were this real steel and were it to connect, would stain this whole arena in blood. Noteworthy, but still lacking. You are strong, but predictable. You do turns so I will not see which hand you will swing your sword with, but it matters not. Right or left, as soon as I see which arm moves first, I already know how to block, and this time, I will knock you out… Be thankful she is watching…’

And Stark made the same move again, this time with his left arm moving first, which Jeritza effortlessly countered. “How useless –” he began, but… wait? Instead of the wooden sword, Jeritza’s didn’t parry anything. Rather, Stark had hit Jeritza’s own wrist with his, stopping his hand and keeping his sword aimed away. Jeritza’s eyes widened. ‘He did it on purpose. He pretended to be predictable just to allow him to…’ was all he could think before, with Jeritza wide open, Stark used his right hand to do a massive side swing that connected with Jeritza’s side, making the man let out a grunt at the hit, which echoed throughout.

“O-One point for Professor Stark…” the utterly baffled proctor called out. This guy had managed to hit Jeritza?

A loud whistle was heard at that, as while most students were utterly dumbfounded, Claude was very impressed, “Again, see? Our dear new Assistant Combat Professor is quite the talented dude. When I say he helped save Your Royal Highnesses and my collective behinds, I do quite mean it.”

“It is rare to see such an earnest looking guy actually turn out to be such a badass,” Hilda added, her eyes on the scene, “Since, well, excluding maybe Dimitri or obviously my brother, you don’t much get that combination around Fódlan.”

“Hey now, come on, what about yours truly?” Claude asked, giving the pinkette a little smirk.

“I said nice and badass,” Hilda shot back, offering an equal smirk, “Not deceitful and cowardly.”

“Ouch.”

But, back on the arena, Stark felt a chill. Yes, he had hit Jeritza, rather hard at that. Yes, he knew the man had felt it. But the coldness that ran up his spine at that moment was… something else. And he looked up.

And the sheer slasher smile on Jeritza’s face was utterly unholy, and he realized his situation.

Jeritza still had his weapon held up high, and that hit, had made it so he felt no longer the need to hold back. So he freed his hand from Stark’s own wrist, and swung down on him, with so much force that Stark could swear the very wind was being pushed away violently. And it was here, with Stark’s own sword still placed near Jeritza’s ribs, that he realized he was too close to dodge his attack, and his sword positioned to awkwardly to properly block the attack.

And wooden sword or not, with that much force, aimed right at his face. Not, not his face…

‘I’m going to lose an eye…’

He couldn’t even think it, and before he could even contemplate his world being blinded by half, Jeritza’s blade struck down relentlessly, and smashed itself pass Stark and onto the ground, creating a massive crater.

The crowd of students all gasped, some cried out.

The proctor looked on, utterly drained of all color.

Fern’s cry didn’t even come out, as before she could do anything, she saw it.

Stark just stood there… unharmed.

Jeritza just stared, his “sword” now just the handle. He glared at it, before he saw, at the very end of the arena, where the hourglass had been set, all that remained was a smoking crater, the hourglass and the surrounding area utterly blown up. Then he turned his eyes upwards, as slowly, so did everyone else…

“Time’s up,” Frieren softly noted, her staff on hand, having cast a spell so quickly nobody even notice her activating it, much less it flying past Jeritza and Stark, shattering the former’s blade into pieces, and then, conveniently, blowing up the hourglass since Jeritza was certain that the three minutes had not passed at all. But, even he, just one look at Frieren, made him… just nod. “Good,” she added, utterly unfazed, “That was a decent fight from you both. I suspect you have no further objections about Professor Stark’s upcoming involvement in your classes, correct… Professor Jeritza?”

He shook his head, “None.”

“Very well,” Frieren added, before she turned to Stark, and her tone almost instantly changed into a more casual one. Almost motherly, “Congratulations on your new position. I’m proud, as I’m sure Eisen would be.”

“…t-thanks,” was all Stark could say, his left eye twitching.

Fern just looked on, breathing a sigh of relief at her Master’s prowess, but one thing was made clear, ‘It’s not just the students…’ she realized, ‘But even the staff here is dangerous and unpredictable. This must have been Master Flamme’s warnings to Mistress Frieren. I cannot let my guard down at this place. Something about everything just feels… dangerous, and I can’t quite decipher what exactly it is about this Academy that makes me so uneasy…’

But Fern’s concerns were slowly drowned out by the cheering of the excited students, as Jeritza just glared, first at Frieren, then at Fern, then finally at Stark, whose knees gave in and he just sat on the ground, utterly about to freak out but holding out strong because a lot of people were watching. But for the students, it had been a masterful display, even if several of them, especially the more magically inclined, couldn’t keep their eyes off Frieren, wondering just who this woman was and what that spell had even been…

Especially Lysithea, who had her eyes laser focused on the elf woman… ‘I! Want! That! Spell!!!’

-0-

“O-Ouch!” Stark squirmed as Fern, back at her room, just poked him on the abdomen.

“See? You’re bruised. Let me tend to that.”

“It’s not a big deal…” he tried, but relented when she pouted at him. Frieren just looked at the two, and despite her usual difficulty at understanding human emotions, since they always seemed to her overly expressive and unnecessarily dramatic, she had grown to learn how to read these two rather well. She could see the concern in Fern’s eyes, or the hesitation in Stark’s. She could also see the way the tip of Fern’s ears turned pink the moment Stark took off his shirt so she could “tend” to him, and how she tried to play it off but shifting her gaze away from his toned body.

It was adorable, Frieren would note, and as Fern tended to Stark, she took one glimpse at her ring, now adorning her finger, and gave a soft smile, ‘If I manage to summon you once more, and it really is you, I can’t wait to present these two to you. They’ll adore you Himmel, as you will them. Your legacy lives on in them, and we must do everything we can to protect them… come what may…’

But the night passed.

They each slept, with the worries of the future heavy on their minds.

And the next day they all wished the other well on what would be their official first day of the next year for them.

Frieren was to head towards where the Knights gathered, and officially meet them and see if they needed her services.

Stark was to head back to meet up with Professor Jeritza, hopefully this time without the need to fight the guy, and see what the actual classes looked like.

And Fern was headed towards the Black Eagles’ classroom, which, as she walked through the corner, took a turn, and headed to the first classroom to her right, adorned by the Empire’s banner, she was quickly greeted by her new students’ eager anticipation at having a First-Class Mage as their new Professor.

“So she did choose us after all!” Caspar announced excitedly, as pretty much the main group of the class quickly all surrounded a very nervous Fern on the first day of her new teaching job (seriously Mistress Frieren, why?!), “Well, I take back my earlier doubts. She’s clearly a brilliant teacher if she could so easily tell we’re no doubt the best class!”

“The fact that you doubted our esteemed Professor in the first place is in itself a very un-noble thing to do Caspar,” Ferdinand reprimanded, his smile then turned towards Fern, “Fret not, I Ferdinand von Aegir will be ever-present to ensure your new duties are not impeached by the rowdiness of this bunch.”

“Hmph, as if you’re expertise could be of any use to our new Professor,” Hubert said with a scoff, “If anything, please stop running your mouth and allow Lady Edelgard to be the one to speak on behalf of the class.”

“What was that?” Ferdinand shot back, turning towards an utterly unbothered Hubert, “Perhaps my words were not clear enough for one such as you Hubert, but my intentions are noble. My role is to offer guidance, much as is the role of our Professor. Something you would understand if your place of residence was anywhere else other than Edelgard’s colon.”

“…You care to try and say that again?” a now venomous tone escaped Hubert’s lips, “If you are so much as attempting to insult Lady Edelgard –”

“No, just you.”

“I feel that this class could end up with one less student soon.”

“Enough, both of you!” Edelgard commanded, firmly, and both the dark mage and the young knight glared at each other, but relented, since not only would pushing it any further could make Edelgard legitimately angry, but it could also make Professor Fern either uncomfortable (which worried Ferdinand), or a problem (which concerned Hubert), “We of the Black Eagle house have a level of reputation to uphold, and I will not allow us to make our new Professor regret her choice of leading us.”

‘…A little late for that…’ Fern inwardly noted, but smiled nonetheless, “I… thank you Edelgard. As I do all of you. It is a new experience for us all, but I hope we can work together to properly do this in a way that it is beneficial to everyone in this room.”

“And I do like her already,” Dorothea quickly chimed in with a smile, “See Ferdie? No need for such bravado. Perhaps a little less nobility and a little bit more humility, hmm?”

“W-Why are you singling me out?!” an aghast Ferdinand cried out.

“So much screaming will make it so hard to sleep now…” a yawning Linhardt noted, “Do you also share the other professors’ less than stellar opinion on mid-class napping by any chance Professor Fern?”

“Mid-class… huh?” Fern just asked, confused.

“Ignore him, all he wants to do is sleep,” Caspar waved off, “Instead, let’s go to the battle arena! I want to fight the new Combat Instructor! Your friend was so badass against Professor Jeritza.”

“W-What? No! We’re not going outside… are we?” a very nervous Bernadetta asked, already shaking in place over the thought of having to leave her safety zone.

“I do not believe that to be the case,” Petra noted, “Mistaken I could be, but usually a first class is done within classroom, yes?”

“I… yes, as far as the curriculum I have been handed goes, most of these early classes are meant to be taught within this classroom,” Fern replied, nodding, although… “But there was one at the end of the month which described a trip of some sort. Perhaps that’s what you are alluding to. I would need to verify with Lady Rhea about that.”

“Oh, you must mean the Monthly Mission each class does for the Church,” Edelgard was quick to explain, as Fern looked on, and pretty much the whole class nodded. Great, they all knew of it while she, the Professor, did not. Excellent first impressions. Then again, Edelgard did not seem to mind explaining it to her, “Each month each class is sent out to complete a mission to assist the Church and help out the nobles or commoners alike, give or take. The missions vary greatly, but it is meant as a show of solidarity between the Church and the Three Nations, as well as a way to teach us how to both lead and follow instructions in the real world and not just through books. Unorthodox as it may sound, as even I had my doubts at first, I can see the merit of first-hand experience if, for example, in my case, I am expected to someday lead my Empire as Emperor.”

“I see, that does sound practical, in a way,” Fern noted, nodding. Maybe her whole hesitation with Garreg Mach and Edelgard in particular had been paranoia and nothing more. This girl seemed genuinely sweet and helpful, even if a little stern and very professional, “I do wonder what this month’s mission will be then.”

“Most likely murdering the bandits that attacked Dimitri, Claude, and myself.”

“…Pardon?”

-0-

In a seemingly abandoned fortress, not far from Garreg Mach but very well hidden thanks to the very condensed forest that surrounded it and the unkept roads meant to reach it, a group of individuals all gathered around. Their numbers were many, and they all seemed to chant in an ancient tongue, and speak of things she couldn’t understand. She had attempted to cry out. To beg. To offer money, terrain, favors, anything. But they wouldn’t even address her. She had tried to break the steel bars of her cell until her hands bled, as her magic had been sealed off. She had cried until she had no voice left.

How long had she been in here?

Months? A Year?

All Monica von Ochs knew was she was going to be killed, and while at first she cried in the hopes any of them would show some mercy and save her, now she just cried in the hopes any of them would show some mercy and just kill her.

“You look sad.”

Monica almost jumped, as she had been in her cell, alone, when just suddenly another woman just seemed to appear inside the cell with her. She looked up, as she was on the floor, while this woman stood, towering over her, with eyes of a predator, and she was the prey. Was… Could this even be called a woman?

“Don’t cry little Monica, it may ruin your pretty face, and I need that,” Kronya told her, her tone dripping in mockery. Monica seemed to grow pale, as this scantly dressed woman, with skin and eyes that most certainly did not resemble a human’s, just leaned down, and gently, caressed the side of her face, “There, there… It’ll be over soon. I’ve been given the go-ahead. So, after I’m done with one more work, I will come back and take your body.”

“…Take my…?” she couldn’t even say it.

“Yes, and it is what it sounds like, in more ways than one,” Kronya replied, all smiles, truly enjoying the terror in Monica’s eyes, “And it will hurt. Imagine me… invading you most intimately,” she began, trailing her fingers down Monica’s chest and down to her abdomen, “And nesting myself deep within you. Then using this very body, your face, your voice, everything that makes you… you, as my own. And I wish, truly, I could say it won’t hurt. Or that I will be merciful and kill you first, but I am not liar. It will hurt like hell, and I do need you alive for the entire process as I eat you from the inside out. So… please, don’t cry… because I want to savor every little last scream you can make once I return my precious, precious little toy…”

Then Kronya leaned in and gave Monica a forced kiss on the lips, biting down so hard it drew blood, which made Monica gasp and push her away, but instead, she pushed nothing, as Kronya had already vanished in a flash of blinding light, leaving only a sobbing Monica behind.

“O-Oh Goddess…!” a sobbing Monica cried out, even if she didn’t even believe in the Goddess, she felt she had no one else to even turn to, “P-Please… someone, anyone…! Help m-me…”

And she tried her best to force her magic to materialize, to send any type of message…

But like always, nothing happened…

And all that was left were the echoes of her cries for her impending death…

…

…all the while, unbeknownst to Monica, or anyone else, Frieren’s ring began to glow…

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Hope Springs Eternal…