"Cheers!"
The hero's party clinks cups and downs their drinks. Heiter, predictably, but Himmel and Eisen too, drain their first round in a flash. Why do adventurers love alcohol? I barely get drunk, so it's lost on me. All I know is this banquet will be a hassle.
"Nothing beats a drink after a journey."
"You drank yesterday."
"And the day before."
"What's that?"
Heiter plays dumb, clearly tipsy from the trip. Probably useless most days—once a week, he's said. Better than that elf's oversleeping, maybe. Himmel's just as cheery, not just from the drink—he loves traveling. Such a child. Eisen's the only sane one, though useless here.
"Don't get too loud. You'll wake Linie."
I sip my drink and warn them. Linie's upstairs, finally asleep after their arrival kept her up. Waking her would ruin everything.
"My apologies… You've really taken to motherhood, haven't you, Aura?"
"I'm not a mother."
"Heiter, come on."
"Sinful man…"
Heiter's teasing gets my usual retort. "Mother" used to irk me, but not anymore. Self-acceptance or habit? Himmel and Eisen, knowing the context, are exasperated, but Heiter's deliberate. Such a sleazy priest.
"Still, gathering like this reminds me of old travels…"
"I'm not Frieren."
"Whoops, my bad. Maybe I'm drunk already."
"…What's wrong, Himmel?"
"Just… old wounds."
Heiter keeps joking, equating me with that elf—an insult. I snap back, then realize I've said this before. Himmel flinches, hit by a stray shot. His fault. But—
(He's doing it on purpose.)
Heiter's deliberate, always mentioning that elf. Probably warning Himmel—and Eisen—not to mix us up. Annoying. Why bother? Humans are fools, and I'm dragged into it.
"So? Any leads on that elf?"
"Not a clue."
"She's a shut-in, so I'm worried."
"Party mom, huh?"
I bring up the elf, but the replies are useless. Heiter, the group's "mom," frets, probably picturing Frieren bribed with candy like Linie. She's still missing. Maybe she won't show until that meteor promise—if she remembers it.
"Where is she, anyway?"
"Probably stuck in a mimic in some dungeon."
"Likely."
"What is that elf?"
The more I hear, the more absurd Frieren seems. The Slayer, a millennium-old mage, master of deception… yet a fool who'd fall for a mimic. Her antics are exhausting. I thought they were lying, but no—they'd pick better lies.
"Reminds me of Himmel making statues, annoying Frieren."
"And teaching her poses."
"My handsome poses are burned into her mind."
"Did you guys really defeat the Demon King?"
I'm so fed up, I question their victory. Their strength is monstrous—I've felt it—but their idiocy matches. Himmel's posing now. "Handsome" is like malice to me: incomprehensible. He's definitely not it.
"Handsome, huh? Getting tough at your age."
"What? You're an old man, but I'm still handsome."
"Thirty-five soon, Himmel. We're old men."
"What about Eisen?"
"Dandy, obviously. Mature coolness."
"Flattering."
"Ugh… I'm fine. My heart's handsome."
"Good for you."
I brush off Himmel's self-assurance. "Old man" means aged, so he's claiming youth. Pointless—his human lifespan's a third gone. Eisen's "dandy" is a compliment, and he's pleased.
They keep chattering about nonsense, clearly enjoying it. Probably did this on their trip too. I'm stuck with them. Why did I befriend Himmel? Regretting it, the banquet drags on.
"Ugh… I'm not an old man…"
Midnight. The table's a mess of food scraps and empty bottles. I dread cleaning, but worse is Himmel, passed out drunk, face-down.
"He's muttering. 'Old man' really got to him."
"Narcissist's denial. He knows deep down. I'll hear his confession later."
"Just whining. Eisen, toss him in the study."
"Got it. Won't wake Linie."
"Impressive, you two."
I order Eisen to move him. He hoists Himmel one-handed, routine-like. Linie's asleep, so the study's sofa will do. Heiter watches, impressed. Help out, maybe?
"So? What's this about, you two?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Heiter, about to drink again, and Eisen, back from dumping Himmel, face my question. Heiter plays dumb; Eisen glances at him, unfazed despite drinking. Dwarf resilience? Anyway—
"Don't play dumb. Same trick as before. Think I'm an idiot?"
"How rude. Eisen's here this time. Totally different."
"Just more accomplices."
"Worse crime, Heiter."
I call out their scheme. It's identical—getting Himmel drunk. Eisen's in on it now. Worse than before.
"You win, Aura. You're not the same as when we met. I'll be honest, like Linie."
"Confess, you mean."
"Exactly."
"Hey, I'm a priest! Keep it down."
Heiter surrenders, hands up, but he's unrepentant—amused, even. A priest like this? The world's doomed. Eisen agrees, betraying his accomplice. Heiter's unfazed. Slippery guy.
"There are two reasons. First, I worried if the migratory bird returned to its nest."
"Migratory bird?"
"Himmel. He never stays put. I was concerned he's settling here. Seems I worried for nothing."
"Why not ask us directly?"
"Some things you can't see that way. Especially with you two."
"Sinful pair."
So not a debate, but still cryptic. Himmel's a migratory bird, restless. True—he stayed here a year, unusual for him. They planned to check on him. Just say so. Pointless antics. From stray pet to bird now—annoying.
"Second's another migratory bird. The main issue."
"What?"
It's not over—another bird. What now?
"Frieren."
"She's a migratory bird too?"
"Worse than Himmel. No nest, no clue where she is. Kindred spirits, maybe."
"Himmel turned the shut-in Frieren into this."
"So I'm caught up in nonsense."
Sighing, I prop my cheek. Frieren's a migratory bird too. Obvious they're alike. Shut-in or not, Himmel probably charmed her. Their restless natures make meeting hard. Maybe why Eisen said she'd never be a mother. Irrelevant to me.
"Not true. You suggested it, Aura."
"What?"
"You told me to let you know if we found Frieren's whereabouts."
"…You found her?"
Not irrelevant, apparently. I'd forgotten my own request. They remembered. Sharp guys.
"No, but an event in the capital might be a lead."
"What's this?"
Not her nest, but a letter. I read it as told.
"Continental Magic Association's founding ceremony…?"
Far from what I expected, incomprehensible.
"Yes. A new mage organization's ceremony is soon in the capital. Central Countries' mages are invited."
"So? You're not a mage."
"Not true. I use the Goddess's magic."
I glare at Heiter's smugness. Talkative pest. A mage organization? Humans do weird things. I can't grasp its purpose—or Heiter's.
"We got off track. Rumor is an elf's founding it."
The point clarifies with one word.
"Elf…?"
Only one elf mage fits. Leading human mages? Unmatched fame, surpassing the hero's party mage. But—
"Not her."
"Agreed."
"What's with that trust?"
They instantly deny it. Who's this elf they trust so much? Not Frieren, they say. Must be true.
"But many mages will gather. Merchants too. She might show for rare grimoires or artifacts."
"Total mimic bait."
"Perfect trap."
Their plan: lure Frieren to the event. Just say so. They're mocking me. Damn priest. A mimic-level trap, but effective for her. Maybe I should enslave some mimics for the day.
"Got it. But what about Himmel? He might dodge if you mention Frieren."
True problem: Himmel might make excuses if told. He wants to find her but won't admit it. Fool. Do these two have to drag her back? But—
"No worries. That's why we're here. If you go, he'll follow."
"Probably."
"What do you take me for?"
They planned for this. What am I to them? Mimic bait for Himmel. Can't deny it—foolish. Keep Frieren's part quiet, say I'm after grimoires, and he'll tag along. Demon-level manipulation.
"Fine. But we're not invited. Can we go?"
"No issue. We're the hero's party. This invite's for Frieren, but they didn't know where to send it, so it came to me. Let's use it."
"You're awful."
"Scheming priest."
Never make an enemy of this priest. My idea originally, so I'll go along. Issue is whether Frieren knows. It's been rumored among mages, but she might not hear, holed up somewhere. Nothing we can do.
"Almost forgot. Who's this elf? You've investigated, right?"
"You're sharp. No wonder Himmel's whipped."
"Say more, and I'll strip your booze of alcohol."
"Hahaha, spare me!"
Alcohol's his weakness. I press him. He's investigated—of course. Ten years with them taught me that. Resigned, Heiter reveals the elf.
"Her name's Serie. A legendary mage, said to have lived since mythic times."
A great mage, forgotten even by demons, called a living grimoire.
By the way, the next morning, two hungover undead emerge, roused by Linie's wake-up call.
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