Chapter 15:
Kratos:
Kratos had traveled with the group in this world long enough to understand that this was one of those locations who’s sole purpose was to serve food to strangers… An odd, sort of trade, a man hunted and brought food to his own table, or was part of the nobility and had servants that did such things.
The way things worked here was… different. Coin in exchange for food for the masses, with people dedicating the whole of their skills to cooking.
By the location, the furniture, the state of the building, well maintained, fresh paint; he understood that this place was intended to serve those of the Aristoi.
And this one here; who’s hair had long since greyed and yet sat with his back straight, eyes sharp, dressed in fine clothing with a servant that had brought them here was exactly such a man.
Frieren marched forward her hands brushing the twin tails of her hair off of her shoulders as she took a seat across from the man, Fern following behind her. There were many tables, but they were only large enough to fit four.
With a gesture from the man, the tables and chairs floated up, just an inch or so off the ground, arranging themselves closer to Frieren and the Greymane. Enough seats for all present to listen to the conversation that would take place.
“Well aint that somethin; rare for humans to use magic so easily.” He heard Sindri mutter to Brock just a few feet to his left.
“Who cares. I’m starvin and it smells like these people know what they’re doin in that kitchen.” The Blue Dwarf began to waddle forward, moving to take a seat, Sindri following behind him. They took the ‘farthest’ table and Kratos saw Stark and, the priest, quietly follow behind them, leaving the last table for Kratos, Atreus and Mimir.
“Allow me to thank you for accepting my invitation.” The man said; The God of war felt his frustration rise at the fact that he could just barely understand the words, needing to infer and deduce what was being said by tone and the snips of words he did understand.
Even so, the old aristoi was addressing Frieren directly. “I understand that you and Mistress Serie do not have the most amicable relationship.”
“I wouldn’t say that we’re enemies;” The elf shook her head. “But we do not typically get along overmuch, no.”
Fern’s look was curious- “Why?” -but then immediately looked startled. “Oh, excuse me!”
“Philosophical difference mostly.” Frieren answered, pulling free the parchment that Kratos understood was the notice that detailed what food could be served here, beginning to read it over. “While Serie is undoubtedly powerful, we don’t agree on Magic’s ultimate purpose, or what those practicing magic should do with their knowledge and power.”
Kratos did not understand the words, and so he looked to Atreus, sitting beside him, asking with just eye contact that his son explain.
His son hesitated. “It’s…”
“She’s explainin’ why she and the newcomer’s Master don't get along, don’t worry Brother, we’ll tell you when the conversation turns.” Mimir whispered from his place still on Kratos’ belt, dangling off the edge of the seat. The Head seemed to be straining to listen.
“Mistress Serie is the greatest practitioner of Magic within the known world.” The old man said, sipping on what Kratos assumed to be tea. “She is unused to others disagreeing with her. I apologize on her behalf.”
“Thank you, but no need.” Frieren shook her head. “And that isn’t what you’ve come here to discuss.”
The old man nodded “No, it is not.”
Now his eyes turned to Kratos and Atreus. Taking a moment to look over to the other Table at Brok and Sindri.
Then; the old man turned his seat, so he could address them more directly.
“Firstly-” The old man cleared his throat. “Would you be kind enough to allow me to speak to all parties?”
“Think he’s talkin about me.” Kratos heard Mimir whisper just under his breath, barely loud enough for him and Atreus to hear.
“I can sense the odd flow of Mana. Please, let our conversation be an honest one.”
“Brother.” This time, Mimir’s voice was firm, and so, Kratos reached behind him, pulling the head free of the belt and placing him atop the table.
The God of War noted the barest flicker of surprise pass through the old man’s eyes before he mastered himself once again, peering closer his gaze was now a calculating one, much like Frieren herself when she’d first examined Mimir.
Then, the old man cleared his throat “My Mistress sensed your arrival, and the recent happenings that have occurred as a result of your presence. You are why I am here now.”
“He says his Mistress, the mage Serie has known about us since we arrived-” Mimir explained, just as Fern spoke up.
Kratos’ eyes narrowed. “And he only shows himself now?”
“But- Mr. Kratos, Atreus and Mimir have been traveling with us for months now.”
“Three Months, and twenty seven days precisely.” The old man turned to look at Frieren even as he addressed Fern’s outburst. “I’m sure you can deduce why we kept our distance.”
Frieren nodded. “No doubt Serie understood-” Her eyes passed towards the Pale God. “Mr. Kratos is dangerous.”
“Correct.”
“Father isn’t-” Atreus hesitated. And to Kratos’ confusion, he heard Brok chortle as Sindri cleared his throat in a way to cover up a laugh.
Were they saying another joke he wasn’t privy to? This hardly seemed like the time.
His son cringed. “Err… well…”
“Aye, I wouldn’t even try to say it with a straight face either.” Mimir cut in. “It’s more accurate to say; None of us mean any harm ser. We’re actually simply trying to find our way home.”
“We’ll get-cha home.” Brok declared loudly. “Just gotta give us a bit to figure it out!”
Just then the doors behind them opened and a small cavalcade of servers marched out, Kratos could spy crab, lobsters, oysters, broiled fish and shrimp. There were side dishes filled with sauces, oils and… olives. The sights and smells instantly reminded him of Greece
“Oh wow!” Stark gasped, wide eyed at the approaching line of food.
“Well shit I aint ever seen half this stuff but it smells good.” Brok chuckled, plucking a fork and knife from its place on the table.
“Please, partake.” The old man nodded. “I’m interested in learning about your world.”
—
“Ya cant hog em all ya bone white fucker!”
Kratos grunted using his own body to physically shield the bowl of olives from the Dwarf’s grabby hands.
They’d eaten enough. These were the last olives and he would savor them.
There was leftover food, some crab, and a handful of those confectionaries he’d heard were called ‘Crab cakes’ but the lot of them had eaten and practically torn through the veritable feast the grey-beard had paid for.
Brok would have to content himself with those.
Not. His. Olives.
As of now, it was Sindri, Frieren, Fern and Atreus that were seated with the old man, Kratos listened with one ear, Mimir translating for him quietly.
“I see, and this realm travel is something available to all of the dwarves in your land?” The old man asked gently. Sindri, nibbling on a Crabcake on a tiny plate resting on his hand, shook his head as he hastily chewed and swallowed.
“Oh no, only a few who know the Ygdrasil, and Magic and know enough about the Aesir and Vanir to bypass some of the locks and protections they have on the path.” The fussy dwarf seemed to pause in order to think. “In fact we probably would never have found this place if we hadn’t followed the trail left by our friends.”
Frieren, with something she’d ordered called a ‘Sundae’ she was currently sharing with Fern mumbled out an answer, some of the sundae still in her mouth. “You sound as though you’re worried that others from their homeland might arrive.”
“Mistress.” Fern chastised. “Not with your mouth full. You look a mess.”
“Mistress Serie has concerns, frankly, I share in many of them.” The old man said, sipping calmly on what was left of his tea.
It was Atreus who answered, and Kratos hated that his son had to speak for him. “We don't want to cause any trouble.”
The old Aristoi nodded “For what it is worth; I believe you, but life very rarely follows our intentions young man.”
The sun had long since set, and with a ringing bell, Kratos and the others realized the late hour. Midnight, or close to it.
The old man stood. “I apologize for imposing upon your time for so long. I will report my findings to Mistress Serie. I hope you might indulge me and let us speak again tomorrow before you continue on your journey.”
Frieren nodded. “Of course.” She stuffed another mouthful of her ‘Sundae’ into her mouth. “Fern, let's finish so we might find an inn.”
“Yes Mistress.”
—
Frieren:
The search for an inn was fortuitous, it gave her a good excuse to split off from the others, She, Fern, Sein and Atreus could each manipulate mana. If they found an inn that could house them for a good price, a few flickers of fluctuating mana would signal the others.
A decent enough method.
Going off alone had been a bit harder, Fern didn’t trust her spending habits when she was alone.
But she was able to manage; likely because Fern was in a good mood after the strawberry Sundae.
As such, she climbed the steps of the town, higher and higher, until she stood nearly at the foot of the cliffside light house, the rust red bricks overlooking the glittering sea, the smell of salt and the sound of crashing waves reaching her, a picture of peace in the world of the night as the moon shone down on her from on high with pale light.
“It’s very unlike you to act in such an indirect way.”
“Hello to you too Frieren.” Serie’s voice was much as Frieren remembered it. Aloof, with a tinge of cold amusement along its edges. The Great Mage sat upon the edge of the retaining wall, one foot dangling off the side as she looked down at the ocean below.
The older elf let out a sound, something not unlike a huff of laughter. “You’re not wrong in that observation.”
Frieren stepped forward, standing just a few feet beside Serie, her chest barely reaching the height of the wall as she joined her. “Why?”
For a moment Serie was quiet, then she sighed, as though explaining something tiresome. “The First class mages look to me for leadership, but in truth, Lernen and others should be the ones in such a position.”
That was unlike her too. Perhaps she’d finally grown up a bit. “Hm.”
Serie must have sensed her judgement, because she tossed Frieren an irritated look over her shoulder, glaring at her before turning her gaze back to the ocean below. “Do you realize what he is? He and the boy?”
Frieren shook her head. “I can’t say that I do.” She was curious of course, but Mimir had said it wasn’t his secret to tell. They would tell her when they wished to tell her, she could wait. It hadn’t been that long after all.
Serie snorted. “No… I suppose even for our kind such knowledge is lost. You likely weren’t even born to hear that tale.”
Tale? Now wasn’t that curious.
Serie cast her eyes up, towards the heavens. And when her voice came it sounded almost… wistful? “He’s… different than what I expected.”
Expected. “Is this regarding your spell of foresight?”
It was a well kept secret that Serie could gaze far far into the future of the world, of men and things that would happen to her, or because of her. It gave her quite the edge..And a bit of arrogance. Though even Frieren would admit that arrogance wasn’t unfounded.
But the Great mage shook her head. “No. I could not see him, or his son with that magic, not until they appeared here. I imagine until they leave, it’ll be all I can see.”
Is that why she was acting so out of character? Had Kratos and Atreus’ mere presence thrown her off so much?
Serie once again shook her head. Seeming to pull herself back to the present. “I will go over Lernen’s findings when he arrives. We, along with the other first class mages will try to expedite them a way home. Make your way to Auberst; I imagine that by the time you arrive given your…” She tossed Frieren a knowing, irritated look. “-slow and steady pace, we’ll have made headway.”
She seemed eager to have them gone. “You’re not curious? About their magic?” This time, she kept the judgement, the shock out of her voice. She had believed that Serie would be even more ecstatic than she’d been to delve into the mysteries of these new practices. For all they disagreed. Both of them had dedicated their live to magic in all its forms.
This time, Serie’s scoff was a sound born entirely of bitterness. “Of course I am. But my responsibility must outweigh my curiosity, no matter how tempting novelty is in this instance.”
The sea breeze blew, catching their hair in its gentle pull, blonde and pale silver locks brushed across their respective faces as Serie spoke, her words barely above a whisper.
“The Ghost cannot remain in this world.”
She was curious, but held her silence as Serie stood, standing atop the wall.
“Goodnight Frieren.”
The Great mage began to walk, her steps barely there, her body dissolving into wisps of smoke not even bothering to hear if Frieren responded before she vanished into the night her body becoming shards of moonlight.
—
The next day
“Now Mistress, Apologize to Mr. Lernen.”
She was still sleepy.
“It’s too early for this.” She mumbled miserably.
“It’s almost two hours past noon.” She heard Sindri mutter somewhere behind them.
“Brok seems to agree with her.” Atreus answered back.
The blue Dwarf was snoring, quite loudly, inside the Blue ox drawn wagon.
Frieren wished she could join him!
“It is quite alright.” The First class Mage said with a calm nod. “I have sent my preliminary findings to Mistress Serie-”
“Huh? How’d you do that?” Stark asked.
In response, Lernen produced a clay mocking bird, the tiny creature looked almost lifelike as it flapped its wings and hopped around the mage’s arm and shoulder.
“One of these carried my message.” He explained easily, a single finger touching the creature to return it to being an inanimate statue. “I do, however, have one request.”
“Please, to make up for the inconvenience; just ask.” Fern promised.
The First class Mage bowed in gratitude. “There is something I wish to do. It will take me no longer than two weeks. But for that time, I would request that you permit me to accompany you. I will leave for Auberst once my task is concluded.”
That made Frieren perk up, her tiredness vanishing
What an interesting request.
Them butterflies are flappin them wings hard now :3The conversation with Serie was fun and no, there was no foreshadowing or hidden clues in there whatsoever. No need to go back and re-read it at all. As for what Lernen wants? Well; I'll let you guys guess that, next chapter I need to double check, but I'm pretty sure we're finding a certain plant monster for fun times.I'll catch you all next week.And hey, go and check out the first two chapters of the original work that were posted today too :)