Sein and Frieren finally entered the room. The space was small, cramped, with a single window that looked out onto the street below. The walls were painted a dull yellow, cracked in places, stained by years of smoke and moisture. A wooden bed stood against one wall, its mattress thin and lumpy, the kind that promised a night of poor sleep and aching backs.
Sein sighed. He had hoped for two beds, or at least a sofa, or a pile of blankets that could be arranged into something resembling comfort. Instead, he saw a single bed and a small wooden chair. The floor was hard, the boards rough and uneven.
"At least I can use the mobile bed on the floor," he muttered. "Since she is not sleeping on the floor."
Frieren did not respond. She stood near the window, her back to him, her staff resting against the wall. Her posture was still, rigid, the posture of someone who was thinking very hard about something that troubled her.
Sein set down his bag and walked toward her. "What is bothering you?"
Frieren did not turn around. Her voice was quiet, measured, the voice of someone who had been turning a problem over in her mind for a long time.
"This 'Subaru' has defeated Rivale in a one to one battle." She paused. "And you are telling me she helped you when you were in trouble?"
Sein nodded. "Yes. I was stuck in a quicksand. She pulled me out. Did not even ask for thanks. Just walked away."
Frieren turned to face him. Her eyes were sharp, focused, studying his face as if looking for lies. "Why did you not speak of this sooner?"
Sein scratched the back of his head. "I was not sure if this Linie and Subaru were the same person or not. They look alike, but that does not mean they are the same. I did not want to suspect a harmless traveler without proof."
Frieren walked to the small table near the bed. She pulled out the poster of "Subaru" and laid it flat on the surface. Then she opened her briefcase, the leather worn and soft from years of use, and pulled out a quill.
Sein watched, confused. "Frieren? What are you doing?"
She did not answer. She dipped the quill in a small bottle of ink and leaned over the poster. Her hand moved quickly, precisely, adding lines to the image.
When she finished, she held up the poster. The sketch of Subaru now had horns. Two mid-sized horns, curving from the sides of her head, the same shape and size that Sein had seen on the demon in Frieren's descriptions.
Sein's eyes narrowed. His heart, which had been calm and steady, began to beat faster.
Frieren looked at him. "The Hero of Vorig City and Linie the demon are the same person. She is a demon, faking to be a human."
Sein shook his head. The words did not make sense. They did not fit with the woman who had pulled him from the quicksand, who had walked away without asking for anything, who had worn a turban and a smile and nothing else.
"It makes no sense for her to do that," he said. "Why would she go and kill a fellow demon? A demon of higher rank? Rivale was stronger than her, right? She should have run. She should have hidden. Instead, she fought him. Killed him. Saved the city."
Frieren was quiet for a moment. Her eyes were distant, focused on something only she could see. "It makes no sense," she agreed. "But in the past, I knew one demon who would do meaningless things anyway. The Demon King did not discriminate between demons and humans. He killed both. He did not care about loyalty or kinship or any of the things that matter to us, he only wanted to achieve his goal."
Sein's frustration grew. "I do not understand. Why would she help me if she were evil? She had no reason. She gained nothing."
Frieren looked at him. Her expression was unreadable, the same blank mask she wore when she was thinking about something unpleasant. "She made Stark sick to the point where he could not even open his eyes. That day, could have killed him. She chose not to. She chose to leave him alive, suffering, cursed with wounds that will not heal."
Sein's mouth opened, then closed. The memory of Stark lying on the bed, pale and still, came back to him. The wounds that would not close. The fever that would not break. The way his body seemed to be fighting itself, refusing to heal.
"A warrior is usually far more dangerous than a mage," Frieren continued. "But Linie managed to take down the strongest warrior in demonkind. The strongest. The one who had terrorized the north for centuries. She killed him in a battle so great that it scorched the mountain range and incinerated the forest." She paused. "Is that true? I do not know. It could be exaggeration. It could be a story that grew with the telling."
Sein slumped onto the chair. His legs felt weak, his head heavy. "What is her goal? What does she want?"
Frieren shook her head. "I do not know. But we should meet with the Lord of the City. We must let him know that he has sheltered a very dangerous demon."
Sein looked up at her. His face was pale, his eyes tired. "This has become a nightmare."
Frieren nodded. "It already is." She paused, her voice softening just slightly. "And it was your idea to join me."
She looked out of the window and saw the statue-under-work.
For a brief moment, Frieren considered if wiping Vorig out of the map would make her evil.
───✧───
It was very difficult for them to get the chance to meet the Lord of the city. The man was behind a wall of people, behind a wall of walls, behind a wall of other stuff, and so on. Secretaries and guards and advisors and assistants all stood between him and anyone who wanted to speak with him. Every time Sein thought they had gotten close, another layer appeared, another obstacle, another reason why they could not simply walk up and say hello.
Frieren had tried the direct approach. She had walked up to the gates of the manor, announced herself as a mage who had important information, and been politely but firmly turned away. She had tried again the next day, and the day after that, and each time the response was the same.
Sein had tried a different approach. He had asked around, talked to merchants and servants and soldiers, gathering information about the Lord's schedule and habits. But the Lord was elusive, a figure who appeared at public events and then vanished into the depths of his manor, surrounded by guards and advisors who made sure no one got too close.
However, they did find the commander of the troops. He was also the son of the Lord, which made him almost as important, and almost as difficult to reach. But luck was on their side for once. He happened to be passing through the street with some nobles, his red hair bright in the afternoon sun, his posture straight and commanding.
Sein stepped forward. He raised his hand in a friendly gesture, the kind of gesture that said I am not a threat, I just want to talk. "Excuse me," he said.
The young man stopped. His red hair, his face, his build, he looked too much like Stark. The same coloring. The same sharp features. The same way of standing with his weight on his back foot, ready to move. Sein felt a jolt of recognition, quickly suppressed.
The man looked at Sein, then at Frieren. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of wariness beneath it.
Before Sein could reply, Frieren stepped forward. Her staff tapped against the ground, and her silver hair caught the light. "I have something to say about the hero of the city. Subaru."
The man's eyes flickered. His expression did not change, but something in his posture shifted. He looked Frieren up and down, assessing her, weighing her words.
"Are you adventurers?" he asked. "Or news people?"
Frieren shook her head. "We are people who happen to know 'Subaru.' And what she did in the past."
The man studied her for a long moment. Then he turned to the nobles who accompanied him. "I will meet with them in the afternoon," he said. "Continue without me."
The nobles bowed and walked away, their voices low, their eyes curious.
The man, whose name was Wirt, led Sein and Frieren through the streets to a training ground. The space was open, surrounded by high walls that blocked the noise of the city. Soldiers practiced with swords and spears at the far end, their movements precise and controlled. At this distance, it was barely possible to hear another person speak.
Wirt stopped in the center of the training ground. "This is a safe place for secrets," he said. "No one will overhear us here."
Frieren did not pull back. She told him everything she knew. How Subaru was a fake name, how the real name was Linie, how she was a subordinate of Aura the Guillotine, a demon who had terrorized the northern lands. How she had nearly killed Frieren's vanguard, a young warrior named Stark, leaving him wounded and cursed with wounds that would not heal. How she had been a threat, a danger, a creature of deception and violence.
Wirt listened. His face was unreadable, his arms crossed. He did not interrupt. He did not ask questions. He simply listened, taking in every word.
When Frieren finished, he was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke.
"What do you want?"
Frieren blinked. "What I want?" She tilted her head, as if the question had not occurred to her. "I am saying you let a demon into your city and let it become a hero." She paused, studying his face. "Wait. You already knew it, did you not?"
Wirt did not deny it. "Maybe. It does not matter." His voice was flat, dismissive. "What happened to you? Subaru. Linie. Whatever you want to call her. She helped us. She killed Rivale. She saved my soldiers. She was kind to my brother." He shook his head. "I do not know why I should be concerned."
Frieren's voice was sharp. "She is a demon. That is why."
Wirt turned to walk away. "If that is all you have to say, then please stop wasting my time. Leave."
Frieren's eyes widened and she almost summoned her staff before Sein put his hand on her shoulder.
Wirt eyed her closely. "If that is all, you can leave,"
"Demons must die," Frieren said, her eyes almost red.
"Relax, elf, geez—" Sein whispered.
Wirt sighed. "You are blinded by your hatred,"
"And you're seduced by a demon, something that doesn't even have real emotions," Frieren replied coldly.
Wirt stared at her. "You have thirty seconds to leave this place before I arrest you."
Sein pulled the elf away.
Sein had taken three steps, pulling Frieren away when she spoke again. "You are making a big mistake."
Everyone in the training ground stopped. The soldiers, who had been practicing their drills, lowered their weapons and turned to look. The air grew heavy, the silence thick with confusion and tension.
Wirt looked at her eyes. His face was calm, but his eyes were hard. "Maybe," he said.
Then he turned and walked away.
Sein watched him go. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. The smoke curled upward, gray against the blue sky.
"Maybe I should start drinking," he said. "Smoking is not helping enough."
Frieren did not look at him. Her eyes were still fixed on the spot where Wirt had disappeared. "Dirty priest."
Sein's gaze shifted. "Well, at least I know where she is going."
Frieren blinked. "Huh?"
"Before we left, my brother told me that a traveler had said she was heading to the northernmost part of the continent."
Frieren's eyes narrowed. "Ende."
"But apparently she does not have the certificate of a first class mage to cross the northern plateau." Sein took another drag from his cigarette. "She is most probably going to take the exam."
Frieren closed her eyes for a second. Her hand rested on her chin, her fingers tapping against her jaw. She looked like she was in deep thought, turning over possibilities, weighing options.
Then she opened her eyes and looked at Sein with a dread smile. "Äußerst," she said. "Let us go."
"Sometimes," Frieren turned and walked toward the gate, her staff tapping against the ground, her silver hair catching the light. "I wish I wasn't the mage of the Hero's Party.
Sein followed, his cigarette burning low between his fingers. "Why?"
"No reason,"
Behind them, the training ground fell silent, the soldiers watching them leave with curious eyes.