Frieren walked through the gate. Sein followed, stuffing the papers back into his pocket.
The city spread out before them, streets and buildings and people moving in every direction. The architecture was different from the cities they had passed before, more focused on defense than comfort. Thick walls, narrow windows, gates within gates. Everywhere Sein looked, he saw evidence of a people who had spent generations preparing for war.
Frieren began to explain as they walked. "The Orden family runs this city. They have done so for generations. It is a city of formidable warriors, known throughout the north for their skill and their courage."
Sein nodded. He had heard the name before, though he could not remember where.
"However," Frieren continued, "I have heard that they have been at constant battles with demons for ages. The fighting never truly stops. It only pauses, briefly, before starting again."
She looked around at the streets, at the people, at the banners that hung from every building. "I think that if there is a greater demon leading the demons in this region, theoretically, Linie could also be here. It would be a logical destination for someone who needs protection and direction."
Sein frowned. "But it looks like there is a ceasefire. Or maybe the humans have won a battle. The environment is good. Festive, almost."
Frieren nodded. "My experience says that this peace will last a few weeks. Maybe less. But it is good enough for us. We do not need to stay long. Just long enough to rest and gather information."
She pointed ahead. "Ah. An inn. Let us get rooms for us.". She paused, looking at the people working to erect a Statute. Looked slender, in a dress. Maybe a martyr of the war?
Sein looked at the building she was pointing at. It was modest, three stories tall, with a wooden sign that swung in the breeze. The windows were open, and the sound of voices drifted out, conversation and laughter and the clink of glasses.
He sighed. "Fine. But I am not sharing a room with you."
Frieren did not respond. She was already walking toward the door.
They went to the inn reception. The room was small, with a wooden counter that had been polished smooth by years of use. A bell sat on the counter, next to a vase of flowers that had seen better days. The walls were covered in paintings of landscapes and hunting scenes, the colors faded, the details blurred.
Sein stepped up to the counter and rang the bell. A woman appeared from a back room, wiping her hands on a cloth. She had gray hair pulled back in a bun and sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"We need two rooms," Sein said.
The woman shook her head. "We only have one available."
Sein's face fell. "One? Only one?"
"The celebration has brought many visitors. Every inn in the city is full. You are lucky to find even one."
Sein turned to Frieren. His expression was firm, his arms crossed. "I am not staying in the same room as you."
Frieren raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"Because you snore. You sleep talk. You throw tantrums in the middle of the night. Last time we shared a room, I woke up to find you sitting on the windowsill, arguing with a bird about the meaning of a spell."
Frieren's eye twitched. "That bird started it."
Sein threw his hands up. "See? This is what I am talking about."
Frieren looked at the innkeeper, then back at Sein. Her voice was calm, measured, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "You smell of weed. All the time. It clings to your clothes, your hair, your skin. I have no desire to share a room with a smoker."
Sein's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "That is... that is different."
"How?"
"Because smoking is a choice. Snoring is a medical condition."
Frieren stared at him. He stared back.
The innkeeper watched them with an expression of deep amusement. "Oh my," she said. "You two seem close."
"We are not!" They replied in unison. Frieren's voice was flat, emotionless, a simple statement of fact. Sein's voice was loud, defensive, the shout of someone who had been accused of something embarrassing.
The innkeeper nodded slowly. "Of course. Of course."
Frieren turned back to the woman. "Why are there no rooms available? The city does not look full. The streets are busy, but not that busy."
The woman smiled. "It is because of the celebration. People have been coming from all over the region to see it. Travelers, merchants, nobles, even scholars. Everyone wants to be part of the festivities."
"Celebration for what?" Sein asked. "Is it the ceasefire?"
The woman's smile faded, replaced by a look of mild confusion. "Ceasefire? No, dear. It is for the victory."
"Victory?" Frieren's voice was sharp, interested. "What battle?"
The woman laughed. "No battle, dear. The war. We won the war. Have you been living under a rock?"
Frieren and Sein exchanged glances. "We did live under a rock last night," Frieren said, her tone matter of fact. "But that is not the question. You won the war?"
The innkeeper nodded, her expression proud. "Of course. Thanks to our glorious warriors and the hero. The young Lord led the army, and the hero defeated their strongest fighter."
"That is... great." Frieren paused, choosing her words carefully. "How did they win the war? It has been active for decades. Everyone I have spoken to said it could continue for generations."
The woman leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They did the unthinkable. They killed Rivale."
Frieren's eyes narrowed. The name seemed to strike her like a physical blow, though her expression barely changed. "How do you know that name?"
The woman blinked. "Haha, silly. Everyone knows Rivale. The Bloody God of War. Demonkind's strongest. He has been terrorizing the northern lands for centuries. Every warrior who faced him died. Every army that opposed him was crushed." She paused, her expression growing serious. "Until now."
Frieren's voice was quiet. "...and who killed him?"
The woman's face lit up. "It was a young mage. She fought him in a battle so great that it scorched the mountain range and incinerated the forest. The soldiers who saw it said the sky turned red and the ground shook like the world was ending."
"A mage?" Frieren's brow furrowed. "But Vorig is a city of warriors. I did not know you had such capable mages."
The woman waved her hand. "She was not from around here. She and her companion were traveling, heading north. The young Lord hired them to fight for us. Best decision he ever made, if you ask me."
Frieren leaned forward. "Do you have a name?"
"Of course." The woman's voice was bright, cheerful. "Miss Subaru. Her companion is Miss Übel. I have a poster, one moment."
She bent down behind the counter and rummaged through a stack of papers. After a few moments, she emerged with a printed sheet, the ink still fresh, the edges slightly curled.
"It was made by a local artist," she said, holding it up. "We have been selling them to tourists. The hero of Vorig."
Frieren looked at the poster. Her eyes widened.
The sketch showed a young woman. Short hair, twin tails. Dark dress with frills. A turban wrapped around her head. The same face. The same eyes. The same build...
Sein peered over Frieren's shoulder. His face broke into a grin. "Phew. I knew it. I almost thought she was the demon because they looked exactly the same."
Frieren turned to stare at him.
Sein continued, oblivious. "Frieren, I have seen her. She helped me get up from a quicksand. I told you about that, did I not? She wore the exact same dress you described. The same hair. The same eyes. I had not told you about that encounter because I was not sure if she was a human either. But now I know she and Linie are two different people. Heh."
Frieren stared at him for a long moment. Her expression was unreadable, frozen, as if she was processing information that did not fit into her understanding of the world.
Then she whispered something. Her lips moved, but the sound was too soft for Sein or the innkeeper to hear.
"Did you say something?" the woman asked.
Frieren straightened. Her face returned to its usual calm. "Nothing. We will take the room."
"Hey." Sein's voice was sharp. "I am not sharing a room with you. I meant what I said."
Frieren turned and walked toward the stairs. "Come with me, Sein."
She did not look back. Her staff tapped against the wooden floor, steady and measured, each step carrying her further from the counter.
Sein hesitated. He looked at the innkeeper, who shrugged. He looked at the poster still lying on the counter, at the face of the woman who had pulled him from the quicksand, at the turban that hid her horns.
Then he sighed and followed Frieren up the stairs.
The innkeeper watched them go, shaking her head. "Couples," she muttered. "Always fighting."