In the fourth year of living in Eiseberg, a month after Frieren's birthday—
Snow fell over the Imperial Capital.
As evening approached, street lamps cast their light upon thick layers of snow, dispelling the gloom that the fading daylight brought.
At the same time, it allowed Frieren, bundled up in a blanket, lying in the cozy living room warmed by a burning fireplace, to clearly see the snowflakes drifting outside the window.
Through the frosted glass, she quietly watched the snow-covered night in the Imperial Capital.
"Frieren, it's time to eat."
Agusheed spoke as he placed the last dish of stewed meat on the dining table.
He waited for a few seconds, and seeing that Frieren was still dawdling, he urged again:
"You have tomorrow and the day after off. If you want to watch the snow, you can enjoy it to your heart's content during the break."
"But right now, come here and eat properly."
(◍´꒳`◍)
Hearing she had days off, Frieren's ears perked up a bit. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the snowy scenery, bundled up tightly in her blanket, and shuffled over to the dining table.
"By the way, Agusheed, when is Flamme coming back?"
Frieren used her still-basic flight magic—which only allowed her to float up to five meters off the ground—to hop up onto the chair.
She looked at the empty seat beside Agusheed and asked.
A week ago, Flamme had mentioned discovering a new magic theory.
However, the theory was still incomplete and required testing with some rare, obscure magic spells.
So after notifying Agusheed and Frieren in advance, she had left to find Serie to borrow those spells.
To ensure maximum speed, she even took the Heavenly Dragon with her.
Because of that, Agusheed had been teaching Frieren magic theory lessons in the small house for the past few days.
"She's already on her way back. At most, three or four days."
Agusheed sensed the position of the Tracking Magic he left on the Heavenly Dragon, roughly calculated the distance, and answered.
"Mm... three or four days, huh..."
Frieren picked up her knife and fork, carefully placing a piece of stewed meat into her mouth.
The tender and juicy meat made her eyes squint with delight—a look that screamed "delicious beyond words."
"Why? Do you have something planned?"
Agusheed took a bite of the white bread he had baked himself.
Hmm—he had added too much sugar; it was a bit too sweet.
"Not really—"
Frieren shook her head, stabbing a piece of pork chop with her fork.
"I just wanted to discuss whether you could extend my break until Flamme gets back—"
Frieren chewed on the tender pork, slowly explaining:
"After all, those theory lessons you're teaching me are things Flamme already covered ages ago. I know them all by heart."
"No."
Agusheed refused without a second thought.
"Laziness becomes a habit."
"So cold-hearted! At least hesitate for a second... Now I'm going to cry for three days and three nights."
"You can cry, but you still have to go to class."
"…I hate you."
Muttering softly, Frieren gloomily reached for another plate of stewed meat.
"That one's mine. If you eat that too, it will really be a headache for me."
Agusheed looked at Frieren, who was trying to eat his share of the stew, and reminded her appropriately.
"Urusai!" (Shut up!)
Agusheed didn't bother arguing with the stubborn white-haired girl.
After all, he had dealt with far more troublesome kids before.
Solitär—that was the name, right?
Just as he was teaching Frieren because of Flamme, back then, it was because of His Majesty the Demon King's orders and requests that he had agreed to train that particular demon child.
Knock, knock, knock—
A gentle knocking pulled Agusheed out of his thoughts.
"Who would it be at this hour?"
Frieren glanced at Agusheed.
"I don't know."
He replied while getting up and walking toward the door.
Click—
The wooden door creaked open.
Standing before Agusheed were four Court Mages, blood still lingering on their lips.
Their robes were riddled with holes and tears, not to mention the visible wounds that had yet to heal.
Of the four, the one standing furthest to the right was in the worst condition.
His left sleeve hung empty, swaying gently in the winter wind. No words were needed to understand the severity of the battle he had endured.
Frieren turned her head for a glance and was visibly shocked.
These were four Court Mages, the elite among the Empire's magicians—
It was unimaginable what kind of enemy could have wounded them so severely.
Agusheed was just as surprised since he recognized them.
He had seen them many times during Flamme's lectures.
Even the weakest among them was no less powerful than Frieren.
What on earth had they encountered to be reduced to such a state?
A Demon General?
"Mr. Agusheed, is Flamme home?"
Upon seeing the door open and Agusheed standing there, the leader of the four stepped forward, voice trembling with urgency.
But in their hopeful gaze, Agusheed slowly shook his head.
"Flamme is not here. She left about a week ago for some matters."
Disappointment—Agusheed could clearly see the look of utter disappointment that filled their eyes after he spoke.
"When will she be back?"
The only woman among them bit her lip and asked, not willing to give up.
"At the earliest… three days."
Hearing Agusheed's response, their spirits sank further.
"How could this be…"
"Of all times…"
Even though the response was utterly disheartening, the leader of the group quickly composed himself and bowed politely to Agusheed:
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Agusheed."
The other three followed suit, giving a courteous nod to their teacher's husband to express their apologies.
After this, they slowly backed away, ready to turn and leave—
But Agusheed's voice stopped them in their tracks.
"Wait."
They froze in place.
"You, come here."
He pointed to the far-right Court Mage—the one missing an arm—and signaled him to step forward.
"Me?"
Amidst the confused looks of his companions, the mage, using his remaining right hand, pointed to himself.
"Come here."
Although puzzled by Agusheed's intentions, the one-armed mage obediently walked up to him.
"Sir, is there something—"
Before he could finish his question, Agusheed placed his hand firmly on the mage's left shoulder.
Swish—
A bright white light appeared out of nowhere, illuminating the snowy night.
Under the astonished gaze of Frieren and the four Court Mages—
A brand-new arm filled the empty sleeve, stretching it out as if it had always been there.
"Avoid strenuous exercise for now. In about a month and a half, this arm will fully adapt to you."
"And then—"
Agusheed patted the mage on the shoulder, his expression as calm as still water as he looked at the group.
"Tell me what happened and who gave you these injuries."