Chapter 41 (41) Never Thought I’d See You Again, Linie: 02

 Frieren continued to pack her belongings in the small cabin at the edge of the village. The room was dim, lit only by a single oil lamp that flickered whenever the wind found its way through the cracks in the walls. She moved with quiet efficiency, folding clothes, checking her pouches, counting the small vials and herbs she had gathered over the past few days. Every item went into her bag with purpose. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was forgotten.

She was cataloging the things she had and the things she would need just in case. The list in her head grew longer as she worked. Food. Water. Spare cloth for bandages. A small knife for cutting rope or wood or anything else that might get in her way. The essentials. Nothing more. Traveling light had kept her alive for centuries. She saw no reason to change now.

A knock came at the door.

She paused, her hand hovering over a small pouch of dried herbs. The knock was not loud, but it was firm, the kind of knock that expected an answer. She set the pouch down and straightened her back.

"Come in," she said.

The door creaked open, and Sein stepped inside. The young priest leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between concern and frustration. He did not say anything at first. He just stood there, watching her pack, his eyes following her hands as they moved from item to item.

Frieren did not stop. She continued her task, folding a spare tunic and placing it carefully into her bag.

Sein finally spoke. "Are you seriously going alone?"

Frieren did not look up. "Yes," she said. Her voice was calm, matter of fact, as if the answer was obvious.

Sein pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step into the room. "You should not go now," he said. "Going alone would be dangerous. Nobody is willing to go with you at this hour. Maybe you should wait for Stark, or until the weather improves, or until we have a better idea of what we are actually dealing with."

Frieren shook her head. She tied the strap of her bag and pulled it tight. "I have to go as soon as possible," she said. "After what happened yesterday, I am afraid of what might happen next."

Sein blinked. He stared at her for a long moment, his mouth slightly open, as if he had just heard something that did not make sense. "Afraid?" he repeated. "You are the mage who defeated the Demon King alongside Himmel's party. You have fought creatures that would make grown soldiers weep. You have seen things that would break the minds of lesser adventurers. What are you afraid of?"

Frieren stopped packing. She looked at him, and for a moment, her expression softened. Just a little. Just enough for Sein to notice.

"Of something inevitable," she said. "And I must eliminate it before it can escalate."

Sein frowned. "You are being too paranoid. You should stay here with Stark. He needs people around him. He needs someone to watch over him in case his condition changes."

Frieren turned back to her bag. "I cannot. I let Fern down, and I must do what needs to be done."

Sein threw his hands up. "You are so adamant." He shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. "Annoying brat."

Frieren looked at him again, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I am older than you, you thirty something brat."

Sein's eye twitched. "I am not thirty something. I am twenty seven."

Frieren tilted her head, as if doing the math in her head. "That is still over a millennia younger than me."

Sein sighed. The sound was long and heavy, the sigh of a man who had run out of arguments and was now running on pure stubbornness. "That is not the point," he said. "You are acting like a child. Running off on your own without telling anyone where you are going or when you will be back."

Frieren shook her head slowly. "No, Sein. It is because I have seen so much that I am acting like this. You do not understand. You cannot understand. You have not watched the people you care about grow old and die while you stay the same. You have not made mistakes that cost lives and then had to live with those mistakes for decades."

Sein fell silent. He looked at the floor, then at the wall, then back at Frieren.

"So there is nothing I can do to stop you," he said.

Frieren did not answer. She just kept packing.

Sein reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it with a small spark of magic, the tip glowing orange in the dim light. He took a long drag, let the smoke curl out of his nostrils, and nodded to himself.

"I see," he said. "Well, then you are not going alone."

Frieren paused. She looked back at him, her hand still resting on her bag. "What?"

Sein shrugged. "I am coming with you, elf."

Frieren stared at him. Her expression was blank, but there was something behind her eyes, something that looked almost like confusion. "Why? You said yourself that Stark needs you. You are the only one who can monitor his condition properly. If something happens to him while you are gone, you will never forgive yourself."

Sein took another drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. "You need me more than he does," he said. "I am more useful than you think."

Frieren looked at him as if he were some brat who had just announced he was going to stay up past his bedtime. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed together. "No," she said.

Sein did not flinch. He did not argue. He did not raise his voice. He simply turned toward the door, his cigarette still burning between his fingers.

"I was not asking," he said.

He walked out and shut the door behind him. The wood creaked, the latch clicked, and then there was silence.

Frieren stood there, alone in the dim light of the cabin, her bag half packed, her thoughts scattered. She stared at the door for a long time, waiting for it to open again, waiting for Sein to come back and say he was joking. But the door stayed closed.

She let out a long breath and ran a hand through her silver hair.

"Kids these days," she muttered.

She shook her head and went back to packing. But her movements were slower now, less certain. She kept glancing at the door, as if expecting Sein to change his mind, to come back and admit that he was not serious, that he was just being dramatic.

The door did not open.

Frieren sighed again, louder this time. She had traveled alone for most of her life. She had crossed mountains and deserts and frozen wastelands without a single companion. She did not need a priest following her around, asking questions, getting in the way, slowing her down.

But Sein was not wrong. Not entirely. The road ahead was dangerous, and having someone to watch her back, someone who could heal her if she got hurt, someone who could offer a second pair of eyes when the darkness closed in, that was not nothing.

She tied the last strap on her bag and lifted it onto her shoulder. The weight felt familiar, comforting. She had carried this bag across half the continent. It had seen more of the world than most humans ever would.

She looked around the cabin one last time. The bed where she had slept. The chair where she had sat. The table where she had eaten meals with people she barely knew but had somehow come to trust.

She walked to the door, placed her hand on the latch, and paused.

"Twenty seven," she said quietly. "He is twenty seven. I am not calling him a brat."

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