"Speaking of which," Takson asked, his eyes drifting to the woven basket hanging from the elf girl's arm, "what are you actually doing out here?"
"Gathering materials," Frieren replied, her voice airy and calm. She crouched down near the gnarled roots of a massive tree, her fingers deftly separating a specific type of weed from the undergrowth. "I want to try out a few interesting experiments when I get back."
"Do you need some help?"
Frieren paused, holding a sprig of blue leaves up to the light. "Hmm. I don't strictly need it. But if you want to help, I won't stop you."
She didn't mind the company. To Frieren, time was a river that flowed slowly; spending a few hours with strangers was hardly a waste.
"Great!"
Takson didn't hesitate. He rolled up the sleeves of his cleric's robe, revealing his thick, corded muscles, and knelt beside her. He reached out to grab a handful of the same blue weeds she was holding.
"Stop."
Frieren's voice was quiet but firm. Takson froze.
"Do you know how to tell the difference between the medicinal Blue-Vein Grass and the Poison-Barb Weed?" she asked, looking at him with deadpan eyes.
"Ahaha... no, I don't," Takson admitted, scratching his cheek awkwardly.
Frieren's eyelashes lowered slightly, a look of mild exasperation crossing her face. He's eager, but he's clumsy, she thought. Still, his intentions were good. She couldn't fault him for trying to be helpful.
"If you don't know, you'll just fill my basket with junk," she said simply. "I'll teach you. Pay attention."
"Yes! Thank you very much!"
….
I found a large, protruding root a few meters away and sat down. I watched the interaction between my apprentice and the elf in silence.
I had no intention of joining them. My initial, blunt conversation with Frieren hadn't been a calculated move; it was simply my nature. I had come to the Elven Village for one reason: to see Frieren.
I wanted to observe the mage who would one day stand at the pinnacle of magical history.
Currently, she appeared... green. Inexperienced. She was talented, certainly, but she lacked the weight of tragedy that defined the Frieren in my records.
It made sense. At this point in the timeline, the Great Massacre of the Elves had not yet occurred.
According to my data, a powerful demon, a seer with the ability to peer into the future, would soon orchestrate the destruction of the elven race. Within a few years, perhaps a decade, demons would descend upon this forest. The elves would be slaughtered, driven to the brink of extinction. Frieren would be the sole survivor of this village.
Regarding this demon seer... I wasn't concerned about him detecting me.
My battle with Serie had provided me with a crucial baseline. I now understood the power ceiling of this world. Even if this demon foresaw my interference, I was confident in my ability to counter his magic. I possessed the data on "counter-magic" that I had extracted from Serie herself.
Therefore, I had made my decision.
The destruction of the elves was a major historical event. And I was going to stop it.
I looked down at my hand. A small, golden sphere materialized there, spinning silently. It was the compressed form of the spell I had used in the valley. A plan was already forming in my processors.
….
"Phew."
Takson wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. There was no sweat there, his physical conditioning was far too high for a little gardening to tire him out, but the gesture was a habit.
It had been a long time. Perhaps three or four hours had passed since they started.
Thanks to Takson's diligent, if initially clumsy, assistance, Frieren's basket was now overflowing with various herbs, roots, and strange glowing mushrooms.
"You learn fast," Frieren commented, testing the weight of the basket. A small, friendly smile graced her lips. "Thank you."
She meant it. While she had plenty of time, having an extra pair of hands had cut the gathering time in half. It was efficient. And Frieren appreciated efficiency, in her own lazy way.
"Don't mention it!" Takson beamed, his smile bright and sunny. "I learned a lot about plants today. I should be the one thanking you."
Standing at his full height of nearly 1.9 meters, with his massive muscles and giant axe, his cheerful, innocent smile gave him the appearance of a gentle giant.
Frieren looked at him for a moment, then lowered her head, seemingly deep in thought.
"Earlier," she began, "you said you two wanted to visit the village, right?"
"Yeah," Takson nodded. "But you said we needed the chief's permission to enter. And we don't know the chief."
" That is how it works, usually."
Takson watched the silver-haired elf. She was clearly considering something.
Wait a minute, he thought. Teacher knew her name. Teacher came all this way specifically to find her. And now, this girl seems to be warming up to us.
His teacher's mysterious knowledge was paying off again.
"Well," Frieren said, looking up at him. "I can take you to see him. If I vouch for you, he might let you in."
That settles it, Takson thought. He knew his teacher rarely showed interest in anyone unless they were significant. Her blunt question earlier, "Query: Are you Frieren?", had been a dead giveaway. He knew Stell had a hidden agenda for coming here, and he trusted her completely. If she wanted to see this village, there was a good reason.
"So, how do we get the chief to agree?" he asked.
"Do you want to see the village that badly?" Frieren countered, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
Takson faltered. Truthfully? Not really. His childhood curiosity about elves had been thoroughly dismantled by Stell's unromantic lecture on their physiology.
They were just people with long ears and long lives. But he knew Stell wanted to go, and that was enough for him.
Fortunately, Frieren didn't seem to care about their underlying motives. She looked at Takson's honest face, remembered his help with the herbs, and shrugged.
She was young, by elven standards, and hadn't yet developed the deep-seated wariness of outsiders that plagued her elders.
….
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