"Frieren? Why is she here looking for me? And how does she even know my name?"
A series of question marks popped up in Garlan's mind, causing his brain to temporarily stall. He was genuinely stunned by this sudden encounter. While he had entertained the thought of meeting her eventually, the timing was uncanny. Has her journey already brought her this far north?
"Oho... Frieren...? Isn't she the elf mage from the Hero's party? Garlan, you really are famous! Even big shots like her come seeking you out."
Glenn, though swaying with drink, reacted to the name. He raised his mug in a wobbly salute toward her.
"How should I know...?" Garlan muttered, his mind sharpening as he analyzed her intent.
The older men by the door, having heard Frieren's inquiry, looked around before locking their gaze on Garlan's table. "There, that's Garlan," one drunk pointed lazily before diving back into his cups, not even recognizing the legendary mage.
The tavern was a cacophony of voices. No one noticed her, likely because she spent every waking moment suppressing her mana and minimizing her presence—the very technique that earned her the moniker "Frieren the Slayer."
"A truly excellent mage... hic..." Glenn belched, looking past Garlan. "Her presence is so faint. If I didn't see her with my eyes, I wouldn't even know she walked past me."
Garlan agreed. Looking at her, he felt almost no mana reaction. Under Flamme's tutelage, she had become a master of deception, hiding her power until the moment it was needed to bury her enemies. She had lived up to every word of Flamme's legacy.
"You are Garlan?" she asked, walking up and giving him a thorough once-over.
"That's me," Garlan replied, keeping his tone level and respectful. Internally, he was a mess of nerves. It felt like meeting a celebrity in real life—a surreal "offline fan meet" moment. "How can I help you, Lady Frieren?"
"You know me?" Frieren tilted her head slightly.
"It's hard not to know the mage of the Hero's party. You're the heroes who defeated the Demon King, after all," Garlan said with a wry smile.
"Is that so? I suppose," she replied simply, seemingly indifferent to the monumental feat. "I'm looking to buy some Foxtail Grass. I'm researching a grimoire, and the incantations require it as a catalyst. I've searched the whole city, but you bought the last of the local stock."
She pointed to the sack on the table. Garlan had intended to use it for "buff" potions—a sort of alchemical shortcut to boost his training. He wanted to see if "science" could supplement his warrior path, a route not many had documented.
"Well... I can sell you a little. I was planning on using it for my own training elixirs."
Calling them 'cultivation potions' makes me feel like I'm in a different genre entirely, Garlan thought.
"Oh, right. You are a pharmacist," Frieren said, her lips curving into a tiny, triumphant smirk. "The name 'Pharmacist Garlan' is quite well-known in Rohguri. It was hard not to hear about you."
She's hundreds of years older than Lia, yet she acts more like a child, Garlan mused.
"Haha! Our boy Garlan is a local legend!" Glenn roared from behind, two empty barrels now lying on their sides. A small golden stream of leftover ale trickled from the table's edge.
"Hey! You drank mine too?! And don't get this hammered! Don't tell me I have to carry you home again!"
Glenn was completely out of it, meaning Garlan did, in fact, have to drag him home. Carrying a 190-pound man across half the city and tossing him onto a bed left Garlan panting.
"Good grief, old man. You promised to buy the drinks, and I end up doing the heavy lifting." Garlan grumbled as he pulled off Glenn's boots, only to get a reflexive, drunken kick to the chest. "Fine, be that way! You did that on purpose!"
He walked out of the house, clutching his chest and grumbling to himself.
"Why do you smell... like that?" Frieren, who had been waiting outside, pinched her nose and took two steps back.
Garlan's heart broke. Does everyone have to be this mean to me today? "Ask the guy inside," he muttered.
"I'll buy half your Foxtail Grass... mm... how about forty copper coins?"
"Forty-five."
"Forty-one..."
Garlan stared at her. He knew she was frugal, but seeing her haggle over coppers in person was something else. "I need to make some profit, you know. You're the one who came to me."
"Mmm..." Frieren went back into deep thought.
Garlan sighed. He didn't want to stand in the street haggling all night. Besides, this was his idol. "Fine, forty-one it is. This day is officially cursed."
Between the "free" drinks turning into labor and his medicine stock being cut in half, he felt thoroughly defeated.
"Oh! You're a good person," Frieren said, her face brightening with surprise.
Don't give me the 'good person' card... Garlan thought. It seemed her long travels had drained her coffers more than expected. If she had the budget, she wouldn't be fighting over a single copper.
As she inspected the herbs, Garlan watched her, wondering what she'd do next.
___
There's a few advance chapters on my P@treon
Usually upload 2 Chapters a day in there, except Saturday and Sunday
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