Pov: Third-Person
Somewhere in Orario, in the western district of the city, a small girl wearing tattered clothes sat near an alleyway. In the alley, there was a makeshift tent, most likely the place where that girl lived.
Grrrr~~
As the girl looked at the people—just as ragged and worn-down as she was—passing by on the streets, her stomach began to growl.
"What should I do? I have no money and I couldn't find any work," the girl lamented as she stood up.
Her long purple hair swayed as a sudden strong wind hit her.
She sighed, her lifeless eyes full of despair drifting back toward the alley.
She entered the alley and walked up to the tent.
There was no real protection, yet no one had ever attacked her, even though she had been living there for months.
Ever since the man who had cared for her passed away a few months ago due to old age, she had been wandering through Orario's poorest areas. That man—the one who had raised her—had been an important member of a Familia.
He was a powerful mage who had taken her in after her parents died a few years earlier.
Now, the girl was only ten years old.
"Urgh…" she groaned from the pain in her stomach and lay down on the dirty blanket on the floor. Then she reached for a book hidden beneath it. "The person who wrote this was a genius. Even Heiter respected them greatly."
Fern smiled faintly and began reading the first page of the book again.
She had already lost count of how many times she had read it.
She had also lost count of how many times she had tried to replicate the things written inside.
But she had no talent.
She couldn't feel mana like Heiter could. She couldn't use magic.
"Maybe it's because I don't have one of those things they call a falna."
Heiter had one—Fern remembered seeing that mark on her "father's" back a few times. It was a beautiful symbol. But even though Heiter had often told her he was part of a Familia, he never once took Fern there.
Not even on his deathbed did he tell her which Familia he belonged to.
She never understood why.
But after his death, she had researched it.
She remembered every detail of that symbol, so it was easy to find out which Familia her "father" had belonged to.
She had discovered this months ago, but she never had the courage to go there.
"I can't take this anymore…"
A tear welled up in the corner of Fern's eye.
Her cold expression shifted; she was about to cry.
She wanted to cry, but she held it in.
"No." she told herself as she stood up. "I'm going there."
Determined, Fern left her tent, clutching her precious book tightly to her chest.
'But where exactly is the home of that Familia?'
####
*Months Earlier*
"Hey, Heiter, why do you like her so much?"
Sitting on a chair in front of Heiter, Fern asked.
In front of her was a bowl of hot soup and a plate full of food.
"Are you talking about Frieren?"
"Yes, her. You've never even met her, have you?"
Hearing Fern's question, Heiter closed his eyes and remembered the one time he had the honor of seeing Frieren's body in person.
He was one of the few humans who had been close to the elves.
However, by the time he had become "friends" with the elves, Frieren had already been asleep for a long time.
Everything he learned about Frieren came from stories told by the elves themselves.
"Even though I never met her, I heard many stories about her. It's a shame people don't study her story anymore these days."
As time passed, fewer and fewer people cared to learn about Frieren's existence.
They knew how important she was to the world, and most used her books to study, but they didn't know the details of her history or what she was truly like. Nobody cared.
"You've told me that before. How old were you when you lived in the elves' city again?"
"Seventeen."
"Wow, you were young."
"Yes…"
Heiter was now 112 years old. So much time had passed.
"Back then, the elves had already lost much of their strength, but they trusted me. To this day, I don't know why they trusted me…" Heiter smiled as he remembered Serie.
"But if Frieren was so important, why don't you show people? You should teach them about her. Aren't you famous?"
Fern's childish way of thinking warmed the old man's heart.
Heiter chuckled at her words. "I'm strong, but I'm far from famous. And I don't need to do that. I'm sure that soon…"
Frieren had already been asleep before Heiter was even born, and now he was close to death.
Heiter was certain of one thing…
'She will wake up someday and take control of the world just as she did in the past.'
He knew he wouldn't be alive when that happened, so he smiled bitterly.
"But you're right about one thing. That book really is incredible."
"You finally finished reading it?"
"Yes. I learned a lot, but I couldn't put it into practice. Why don't you help me, Heiter?"
"Help you?"
"You're a mage, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you should help me."
"I think it's better if I don't."
"Huh? Why?"
Heiter didn't answer.
He knew he was close to death and that he should teach Fern how to protect herself before he passed. She had no one else to care for her.
But he didn't have the time.
A few days after that conversation, Heiter collapsed.
After that, he could no longer get out of bed.
Every day, Fern sat at his bedside, holding one of the books written by Frieren. Even though there were many books, she always read the first one exclusively.
"Fern, you…"
Fern looked at him.
Heiter smiled at her and said, "You should look for—"
Before he could finish, Heiter choked.
After coughing several times, he went still.
Fern set the book down on her lap and stared at him for a few seconds. Heiter's eyes, still open, were lifeless.
Without shedding a tear, Fern stood up, hugged her book, and walked out of the house.
####
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Next Chapters: Chapter 30 - Nine More Elves. / Chapter 31 - Bloody Night. / Chapter 32 - Dual Conversion?