Chapter 71 – Flamme's Fangirl
After guiding the three of them into the banquet hall, Butler Pierre vanished without a trace.
Less than twenty seconds later, he reappeared in the master's chamber on the second floor, leaning close to whisper into a man's ear.
"General, Elias has arrived. Not just him—also that one…"
"—Is that so?"
The man sounded mildly surprised, an image of blood-soaked orange hair flashing through his mind.
"I thought neither she nor her teacher cared for occasions like this."
"The arrival of the Valkyrie of the battlefield… this should stir quite a reaction among the guests."
Indeed.
The moment the three entered the banquet hall and merged into the crowd, they could feel it—subtle, converging gazes from all directions.
Almost without exception, the guests' eyes settled on Flamme's striking hair.
Elias understood this feeling all too well. Eight years ago, it had been that very color that etched the name Flamme into his memory.
He sent a teasing thought through their mental link.
"Flamme, compared to me—the one who crippled Erwin—you're more like tonight's true centerpiece."
"And whose fault is that?" Flamme replied irritably.
"Look at what you're wearing."
"Elias, your pitch-black formalwear is so understated it practically disappears."
"I wore it to highlight you."
"Hah!" Flamme laughed. "Elias, after a few years of mundane village life, even your lying skills have gotten worse."
"My sincerest apologies."
Between them, Frieren remained blissfully oblivious, gazing around in awe.
"What a huge, gorgeous banquet hall!"
"It's even bigger than Lady Serie's palace!"
She craned her neck all the way up to the towering dome, where lights flowed like a river of stars—brilliant and endless.
But the moment a servant carrying a tray of apple pies passed by, her attention snapped away instantly.
Her small hand shot out on instinct.
"Wait, Frieren."
Flamme gently caught her eager hand and pulled her back.
"Not yet. You have to wait until General Theodore officially announces the opening."
"Tch… what a hassle."
Frieren pouted, rubbing her cheek in disappointment.
"I thought we were just here to eat and drink."
Just then—
A hand holding a pie extended toward her.
"If you're hungry, go ahead and eat."
Frieren's eyes lit up instantly as she looked up at the god who had bestowed food upon her.
Except—there wasn't just one.
There were three of them.
From left to right, three noble young ladies in red, blue, and yellow dresses bent toward her, smiling kindly.
"Go on, take it," said one of them. "We're all daughters of high-ranking military officials. No one will say anything."
"Th-Thank you!!"
Frieren snatched the pie and devoured it in front of them without the slightest hint of restraint.
Flamme shook her head helplessly and stepped forward, addressing the three young ladies.
"My apologies. My disciple hadn't eaten anything today—sorry for the trouble."
"N-No, not at all!"
The girl in the red dress suddenly rushed forward and clasped Flamme's hand tightly.
"To meet the great mage Flamme here—it's an honor beyond words!"
"My name is Zannie! Lady Flamme, please guide me in the future!"
Before Flamme could respond, the girl in blue seized her other hand.
"I'm Yuna! Lady Flamme, I'm one of your most devoted fans!"
The girl in yellow refused to be left out, practically clinging to Flamme's arm.
"Lady Flamme! I've heard your battlefield stories countless times!"
"Oh—and I'm Camilla! Please remember my name!"
Flamme maintained a strained smile, awkwardly chatting with them until she finally managed to send them on their way.
Then a teasing voice rose behind her.
"Lady Flamme~ My name is Elias~ I admire you sooo much~"
Flamme: (ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
"Elias, I must admit—while your lying skills have declined, your mastery of sarcasm has reached new heights."
"—Thank you kindly~"
Elias gave a shallow bow.
"I was simply moved by the sight of three innocent young ladies."
"—Innocent?"
Flamme lowered her gaze and chuckled softly.
"Elias, you must have noticed. Those three are barely twenty, yet the magic they emit far exceeds that of their peers."
"True," Elias replied calmly.
"But at the same age, they were nowhere near you."
He recalled the past with faint amusement.
"After all, when twenty-year-old Flamme first met me, she greeted me with rapid-fire magic—not a warm apple pie."
Flamme ground her teeth inwardly.
That infuriating bastard—he was still holding a grudge over their first meeting eight years ago.
Wasn't he supposed to have a bad memory?!
"Elias, if you remember the selection eight years ago, then you should remember those three as well."
"Oh?"
"They were there too?"
Flamme wasn't surprised by his reaction.
If Elias didn't remember Julie, there was no way he'd remember three teenage girls.
"Eight years ago, the three of them participated together in the Staff of Sanctity (Holy Emblem) selection."
"By sticking together—and relying heavily on powerful magical artifacts—they barely passed the first three trials."
"They were too young and too dependent on external tools, so my teacher Serie dismissed them with a convenient excuse."
"Eight years later, their magic has grown considerably. They should be able to stand on their own now."
"With luck, five years from now, they might finally succeed."
"Understood! Lady Flamme!"
Elias: (⌓‿⌓)
"Zannie. Yuna. Camilla."
"I, Elias, shall remember these names."
"At the next Staff of Sanctity selection in five years, I promise to personally help your three little fangirls—"
"—get eliminated in the first round."
Flamme: (≖_≖'')
"Very well, Elias."
"Then I shall personally help you—"
"—be declared unqualified by Lady Serie once again."
Elias: (''≖_≖)
"I was joking, Flamme."
"I wasn't."
As the two traded barbs back and forth, Frieren finished her pie.
At that moment, a bell rang from the tower above.
A beam of starlight descended from the dome, illuminating the spacious balcony on the second floor.
The entire hall fell silent, all eyes turning toward the light.
As the doors to the master's chamber slowly opened, a towering man stepped forward.
A broad beard. A large nose. Hair magically groomed—yet still unruly.
A long scar slashed diagonally across his right eye, a relic of the battlefield.
He wore a deep crimson military uniform, his chest adorned with countless medals—proof of his achievements.
Elias didn't need to guess.
This was General Cole Theodore—Supreme Commander of the United Army, the highest authority on the battlefield, hailed as the greatest strategist of the human front.
At the same time, Elias sensed it clearly—
An immense, surging flow of magic radiated from Theodore's body, completely unrestrained.
Within this entire estate, aside from Flamme and himself, no one possessed greater power than this general.
And yet—
In a place Elias could not see…
A shadow in the void stood silently before a golden cage, patiently awaiting his arrival.
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