Chapter 24 – Then Let Me Ask You
Half a month had passed since the village chief's funeral.
The heavy air of mourning had finally lifted, and life in the little village was returning to its usual rhythm.
Yet that morning, four villagers came knocking on Elias's door.
From what fragments of memory he still bothered to retain, Elias vaguely recalled them as the village's farmer, blacksmith, hunter, and merchant.
As for their actual names—he had never found such things worth remembering.
Even so, out of the "politeness" he had practiced for the past eight years, he invited them in, waved a hand, and used a simple spell to pour four cups of steaming tea.
"So," he began mildly, "what business brings you all to my door?"
The four exchanged nervous glances, silently debating who would speak first.
Finally, the farmer took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Lord Elias, we come here today as representatives of the village. Since the former village chief passed away half a month ago, his position has remained vacant, and—"
"No."
Elias set his cup down with a soft clink.
His cold, impassive tone was answer enough.
"I'm merely a passing traveler who happened to linger in this village for eight short years."
"Managing a settlement is tedious and dull—I have no interest in such things. Helping out now and then is already the limit of my patience."
"Honestly," he added with a dry laugh, "after eight years I still don't even remember your names. Would you really entrust your village to someone like that?"
The four villagers froze, uncertain how to respond.
After a long pause, the farmer cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice trembling slightly.
"Ah, no, Lord Elias… We weren't asking you."
"…Oh?" Elias arched a brow.
The farmer nodded, bowing his head. "We were hoping to ask… Lady Frieren."
Elias: (-ι_-)
"I see."
Without another word, he stood, snapped his fingers—
[Forget what you just heard]
—and quietly left the room.
Moments later, the creak of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Frieren poked her head out, blinking.
"Hmm? Do we have guests?"
In the living room, the four men sat in a daze, staring blankly into space.
Frieren tilted her head. "Let's see… you're Farmer Dorian, Blacksmith Franz, Hunter Colt, and Merchant Augustine, right?"
She frowned. "What's wrong with all of you?"
Her voice startled them back to reality. They all jumped to their feet and bowed deeply.
"Lady Frieren! We were just… speaking with Lord Elias!"
"Talking?" Frieren walked in, looking genuinely puzzled.
"Elias? Voluntarily talking to someone? That's a first."
She squinted curiously. "So, what were you all talking about?"
The four men looked at each other, scratching their heads.
"Uh…"
"What were we talking about again…?"
Finally, the farmer broke the silence with renewed determination.
"Anyway! Lady Frieren, we come here today on behalf of all the villagers—to convey everyone's wish!"
Frieren clapped her hands, eyes sparkling.
"Oh, great! It's been ages since my last request—I was getting bored! What do you need help with this time?"
The four straightened their backs, bowed once more, and declared in unison:
"We, the villagers, would like to ask Lady Frieren to serve as our next village chief!"
–––
"…I must decline."
Her tone was firm, her words clear.
Everyone in the room froze—including Elias, who was out in the garden pretending to trim the hedges while secretly eavesdropping with a Listening Spell.
For a brief moment, even he felt a flicker of surprise.
Heh… how unexpected.
The meddlesome little elf who always stuck her nose into everyone's business—turning down an offer of responsibility?
That was a first.
Now this, he thought, I have to hear.
Inside, Frieren continued, her voice calm but resolute.
"I do love this village, and I care deeply for everyone here. But as a mage, there are still more important things I must do."
"My teacher is still fighting the demons in the North. As her disciple, it's my duty to prepare myself for that day."
"As for a new village chief…" she smiled playfully, "why not have the four of you take turns? You're already the village's chosen representatives, after all."
And so, under Frieren's suggestion, the Rotating Village Chief System was officially established.
–––
That night at dinner, Elias watched Frieren across the table with an expression far too complicated for his usual stoic face.
Frieren bit into a crispy pork cutlet, savoring it with satisfaction—until she noticed his gaze.
She paused mid-bite, sighed, and frowned.
"Hey, Elias. What's with that look?"
"If you've got something to say, just say it."
Elias swirled his wine glass lazily, taking a slow sip before answering.
"I was just… surprised," he admitted, smiling faintly.
"To think that the mischievous little elf could act so serious and responsible."
Frieren blinked, then smirked.
"Heh. Then let me ask you…"
"…You didn't actually think I'd stay here forever, did you?"
Then...Frieren's eyes widened like saucers.
(ꐦÒ‸Ó)
"You were eavesdropping on me?!"
Elias didn't even flinch. "You read my diary. I'd say that makes us even."
Frieren puffed her cheeks in outrage. "Hmph! I can't believe it. Turns out you're not just some glorified garbage picker and errand boy after all. Should I be impressed?"
Elias smirked. "You could try."
"Humph!" She crossed her arms, chin tilted high in defiance.
"I'll have you know, I'm the disciple of the great Archmage Flamme! Just like her, I'll one day become a bearer of the Holy Emblem of Sacred Court!"
"Is that so?" Elias swirled his wine lazily. "Then, allow me to offer my congratulations in advance?"
"No need!"
Frieren shot him a glare from beneath her snowy bangs.
"By the way, Elias, didn't you take the Sacred Staff Selection Exam eight years ago—and fail?"
"I don't need blessings from a failure!"
Elias's lip curled in a cold smile.
"You should know better than anyone, Frieren. Serie isn't someone you can take lightly."
Frieren: «(･ω･)»
"But… but I'm cute. Doesn't that count for something?"
"Who knows?"
Elias looked away deliberately, his tone low and ominous.
"Serie decides everything by what she calls intuition."
"Your cuteness might be your winning card—or your downfall."
"They say her intuition… has never been wrong."
Frieren's shoulders trembled. "Uuuh… That sounds terrifying…"
"You don't have to worry yet," Elias said calmly.
"Before you even get the chance to meet her, you'll need to pass the three trials set by the Archmages themselves."
"Each one more difficult than the last."
He glanced at her pointedly.
"And you—who couldn't even remember a single trait of bird-type monsters—should probably stop dreaming about the Sacred Staff altogether."
Frieren froze. Then slowly, her lips curled into a mischievous smile.
"So that's how it is, huh… you're underestimating me again."
Without warning, she snatched a pork cutlet from her plate, took an enormous bite, and chewed with exaggerated vigor. After swallowing, she wiped her lips, straightened up, and spoke with uncharacteristic resolve.
"Monsters classified as avian-type must first possess avian traits," she began, her tone suddenly crisp and scholarly.
"They're faster and more cunning than normal beasts, capable of concealing their mana and attacking from blind spots. They rarely act alone—except when breeding—and prefer coordinated assaults."
She paused dramatically, her golden eyes flashing.
"And, of course…"
Frieren grinned proudly. "They can fly."
Elias stared at her, expression flat and unreadable. Not a hint of amusement.
"Frieren," he said evenly, "then let me ask you one thing."
"What color was the Stormbird we encountered in the valley near the warrior's village?"
Frieren blinked. «(･ω･)»
"Uh… p-purple?"
Elias closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"…Hopeless."