"To be so stingy over a few coppers... tell me, are you... actually broke right now?"
"Eh!?" Frieren made a face as if she had been physically startled. "How disgusting..."
"Huh???"
"Do you use [Mind-Reading Magic]? How could you understand me so well?"
"You don't exactly need high-level spells to figure that out," Garlan sighed. "Does everyone in this world make it their mission to be this hurtful to me?"
"I've heard people say that about me quite often..." Frieren replied vaguely.
Garlan felt a heavy blow to his spirit. Over the course of a single day, his heart had been battered and bruised until it was practically a sieve.
"Anyway, thanks for the Foxtail Grass. Oh, by the way... do you have any Dark Dragon Horns?"
"Why would anyone buy something like that from a neighborhood pharmacist...?"
"Fair point."
She carefully tucked the purchased herbs into her suitcase and turned to leave.
"Wait."
"Mmm?" Frieren looked back, her expression unreadable. "Do you actually have Dark Dragon Horns at your house?"
"No... I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in being a tutor. You know, taking on an apprentice? Teaching some magic..."
This was Garlan's sudden spark of inspiration. Since Lia was an elf, having Frieren—a fellow elf—teach her seemed like a stroke of genius. Besides, he felt bad about constantly relying on Denken. Every morning, Denken was up early, diligently teaching Lia theory and technique. Even though Garlan had practically swindled him into it, the old mage wasn't slacking at all. Denken was that kind of person: responsible, persistent, and relentless once he set a goal. But that was exactly why he looked so tired all the time.
"No."
"Eh? So decisive? Why?" Garlan was stunned. She hadn't even paused to consider the payment.
"Because it sounds like a lot of trouble. I only have a little less than five years before I return to the Empire. And I don't want to take an apprentice."
Frieren remained expressionless.
"Less than five years? That's ages from now! Not even a few months?"
Garlan struggled to wrap his head around elven time perception. Five years? By then, Reed would probably have a full head of gray hair and his kids would be running around shouting for their dad.
"Five years? That goes by very quickly," Frieren said, holding two fingers up to measure a tiny gap in the air. "It's like the blink of an eye. My journey with Himmel and the others was very short, and that was ten years..."
Garlan stared at her, his mind racing.
He realized then that the Frieren standing before him wasn't the same person she would become after Himmel's eventual passing. She hadn't yet experienced the event that would truly change her life—the one that would make her realize just how fleeting human life really is. To an elf, human lifespans are like morning dew: beautiful, but gone in an instant.
The future Frieren would learn to care for her companions with a clumsy, earnest love. But for now, her heart was still a fortress that millennia of partings hadn't managed to unlock. It would take the death of a Hero to make her want to understand others.
I really did make a stupid request, Garlan thought.
"Besides," Frieren added, "training a mage requires a massive investment of heart and soul. Even if I agreed for a few months, it wouldn't do much good. You should find another talented mage at the Magic Association."
"Yeah, I understand." Garlan gave her a direct, honest smile.
Frieren didn't say anything more. She turned and walked away, suitcase in hand.
"Safe travels, Lady Frieren!"
"Mm." Her voice drifted back on the wind.
Garlan watched her go. A person's worldview only changes through bone-deep experience; a parent's lecture is never as effective as a single, unforgettable moment of personal pain.
Frieren, I hope the next time I see you, things will be different.
"Garlan is late again today... wait! Eww! Why do you and your clothes smell so bad?!"
Lia had intended to lunge at him when he walked through the door, but she stopped halfway as the cocktail of sweaty feet and drunken vomit hit her nose. "Did you fall into a latrine? I'm sorry, Garlan, I shouldn't have judged you..."
"Hey! Don't let your imagination go there! I was just dealing with Glenn's legendary foot odor..."
Garlan gritted his teeth. That idiot Glenn had ruined his reputation. It turns out when Glenn bragged about his "lucky boots he'd worn for years in battle," he meant he actually hadn't changed them for years.
"Garlan." Denken emerged from the kitchen, holding a bowl of washed mushrooms. "I'm not much of a cook. In the Empire, the chefs always brought me my meals. I'm afraid dinner is up to you."
"But can't Lia cook? Can't she handle it?"
"Eeeh—but I'm so tired today!" Lia slumped onto the rug like a boneless doll. "I practiced all day; I have zero energy left. And I have to read History of Magic tonight. It would be bad if I fell asleep while reading."
She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. Garlan smacked his forehead in resignation. How did I end up bringing home such a handful? If I didn't come back, were they just not going to eat?
"Fine, I guess it's just my lucky day... no, my lucky century."
He let out a long sigh and headed into the kitchen, followed by Lia's cheers.
As the wood fire began to glow and he started prepping the ingredients, Garlan realized he had grown strangely accustomed to this. The days of being a solitary wanderer felt like a lifetime ago. He had once thought he was destined to live on the fringes of this world, never knowing a normal life.
But a quiet life wasn't as hard to find as he had imagined. In fact, if he had to go back to being alone now, he'd probably find it hard to adjust.
I guess I've changed, too...
___
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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