The last of the sunlight caught the cracked archway as they emerged, turning the stone amber before it faded. Percia stepped out first into the cooling air carrying the first chill of nightfall.
All the while, she felt two pairs of eyes boring into her back.
Fern's was quiet, thoughtful, the kind of look that came with trying to solve a particularly stubborn equation.
Stark's was louder. Wide, a little horrified, a little fascinated — the expression of someone who had just witnessed something ancient and personal and wasn't sure what to do with it.
Their consensus was obvious.
Percia stopped at the edge of the stone steps leading down the hillside. She sighed long and slow.
She was getting tired of all these looks.
"You're judging me," she said flatly.
Fern blinked. "We're not—"
"You are." Percia's voice remained cool, but there was a faint weariness beneath it. "I can feel it."
She turned her head just enough to catch their figure out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't entirely sure why she was explaining herself to two children.
"By human standards," she said, "imagine a woman in her thirties being followed by a teenager. Persistent. Curious. Trailing after her for years, asking endless questions, wanting to be near." A pause. "Wanting more, eventually."
Stark's face moved from curious to openly horrified in the span of a heartbeat.
"…That sounds super awkward."
Fern's cheeks flushed pink, finding sudden interest in her boots.
"True," Percia said. "But, elves do not age the same way. Forty years for her was barely more than childhood's end. For me it was a long walk through familiar woods." She paused. "And as all walks come to an end, I left. That's all there is to it."
Frieren, who had been walking a few paces behind, finally spoke.
"She's right," she said simply. "I was young. And she was kind enough not to treat me like a child."
Stark rubbed the back of his neck, ears still red. "Still… sounds like the kind of thing that'd get you arrested in a human village."
Fern elbowed him. Hard.
Frieren tilted her head at Stark. "Humans move so quickly. You fall in love in weeks. You marry in months. You grow old and die before a sapling grows into a tree. Of course it seems strange to you."
Percia drew her cloak tighter against the evening chill.
"The road forks ahead," she said, nodding toward the darkening treeline below. "One path leads to the nearest human settlement. The other deeper into the mountains."
She started down the steps without waiting.
Frieren couldn't help but smile.
"She's still running," Frieren observed, almost fondly. "But she's slower about it now."
---
The path wound downward through sparse pines, the last of the dusk bleeding out between the branches. Percia moved without sound on the soft earth. The air carried woodsmoke from somewhere below — the village, probably, fires being lit for the evening.
Three sets of footsteps followed.
Percia didn't stop walking.
"I'm surprised you're pursuing me," she said, carrying clearly in the quiet. "Have you no pride? I leave for a millennium and the moment we meet again you immediately—"
"We're headed the same way." Frieren's reply came without hesitation. A small pause. "If anything, you're the one being strange. A human village? That's not like you."
Percia slowed and turned to face them.
The group was about twenty paces back — Fern and Stark side by side, Frieren lagging behind them, hands clasped behind her back, mirth dancing in her eyes.
Percia sighed before gesturing for them to come closer.
Fern and Stark hurried to close the distance, falling into step a respectful few feet away. Frieren, however, lingered back, still separating her from the others.
"Hmph." She looked away. "You think I'll just walk beside you after that."
Percia reached back and took hold of Frieren's sleeve.
"It's inefficient to carry on a conversation twenty paces away," Percia said dryly. "Come here."
Frieren's mouth curved — just barely — before she closed the gap in a few unhurried steps. She stopped beside Percia, standing unnecessarily close.
"So? Why the human village?" Frieren asked as they resumed walking.
Percia kept her gaze on the path ahead.
"I need to restock supplies. Ink. Parchment. A few rare herbs that don't grow in the deep wilds anymore. Nothing exciting." She paused. "After that I'm headed to Äußerst. To visit Serie. Her birthday is soon."
Frieren glanced up with genuine surprise, "You know Serie?"
Percia blinked slowly, as though the question were mildly confusing. "We're childhood friends."
Fern stared at her. "You're friends with the Living Grimoire."
"Is that what they call her now?"
Stark scratched his cheek. "Yeah. She's kind of a big deal."
Percia snorted, "She's always been dramatic."
"You never mentioned that before." Frieren tilted her head.
"I never mentioned a lot of things," Percia replied evenly. "You never asked."
Stark seized the opening. "Anyway — we're headed there too, actually. Fern and Frieren are sitting the First Class Mage Exam. Since we're going the same way—" He shrugged, trying to be casual. "Maybe we travel together? For a while?"
Percia didn't answer immediately.
The village lights were visible now in the valley below — small, warm points in the growing dark, fires lit against the coming night.
Frieren glanced sideways at her. "It would be easier than pretending we're not there as we trail after you. After all, there is only one main road going to Äußerst."
Percia couldn't help but chuckle. "Fine. We'll do it your way."
She didn't look at Frieren.
But she didn't pull away when their shoulders brushed again, either
---
The inn was modest — timber beams darkened by hearth smoke, a low ceiling that made Stark duck under the doorway, the warm smell of bread drifting from the kitchen. A few locals glanced up from their mugs as the group came in.
They took a corner table near the fire. Stark dropped into his chair with a groan, axe propped against the wall.
"I'm so hungry." Stark slumped in his chair. "What can we even afford? That roasted boar smells incredible."
Fern pursed her lips. "...I'm not sure we have enough for that." She sent a sharp look at Frieren, who studied the table with great interest. "Someone spent the last of our funds on a potion."
"Huh? What potion?"
"Forget it. We're having potato stew."
Stark recoiled. "But I'm a warrior. My master always said to eat proper protein after a hard fight—"
"I know what he said. We can't afford it."
Percia reached into her cloak, produced a coin pouch, and held it out to the barmaid passing nearby. "Roasted boar. Stew and bread as well. Keep the change."
"Of course! Right away."
Fern's head snapped toward Percia. Stark followed a half-second behind.
Fern smacked Stark's arm—hard—then stood, bowed deeply toward Percia, once, twice, three times in quick succession.
"I'm so sorry, he didn't mean to impose — we'll pay you back, I promise—"
"It's no problem." A faint, almost imperceptible shrug. "It would be rather concerning if I've lived for eight thousand years and was still broke."
Stark's mouth hung open mid-protest. Fern froze mid-bow. Even the crackle of the fire seemed to quiet.
Frieren — who had been folding her napkin into precise squares — went still. Her small hands stopped moving.
She leaned toward Percia. "...I thought you were four thousand."
Percia looked at her. "Why did you think that?"
"You told me once that you'd met the Goddess. The Mythical Era was around four thousand years ago."
Frieren tilted her head. "You told me once. Long ago. That you met the Goddess. The Mythical Era occured around four thousand years ago.
Percia considered this. She picked up a piece of bread that a barmaid had brought earlier, chewing it thoughtfully.
"Ah... I suppose there was the Forgotten Era in between the Mythical and Unified Empire Eras. Records of it were… scrubbed. It was a while back; I'm not surprised you haven't heard about it."
She resumed eating, calm as though she'd noted the weather.
The silence stretched.
Fern stared. Stark stared. Frieren's expression was quieter than theirs — more thoughtful, green eyes tracing Percia's face as though seeing it differently.
Stark's eyes twitched. "What."
Percia didn't look up from her plate. "Don't tell anyone I told you that though... I'm not supposed to be talking about that era. At most you'll be labeled as a lunatic."
The barmaid returned, arms full — roast boar, stew, fresh bread still warm from the oven. The platters landed on the table with soft thuds.
Percia was the only one who reached for a fork.
The others remained still.
Frieren recovered first. She picked up her spoon, stirred her stew once, and murmured — almost to herself:
"You never told me that."
"You never asked."
Stark let out a long, shaky breath and finally grabbed a hunk of bread. "Right. Okay. You're eight thousand years old. There is a forgotten era extending many millennia. Cool. Totally normal. I'm just gonna… eat now."