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Fern watched the snow build up outside. The village plaza was crowded nonetheless, which made her squirm a little inside. Unless a certain elf mage asked her to run some errands or it was time for them to move, Fern thought she’d rather stay inside when it was cold. And just her luck, Frieren had not given her trivial assignments this time, giving her spare time to rest and sit around in their shared room at the inn, which overlooked the plaza if you looked through the window.
She had thought of picking up one of Frieren’s books at first, maybe use her free time productively and study one of Frieren’s less relevant spells that she loved collecting so much, but she realized reading was just going to make her sleepy, and she needed to be up early tomorrow morning. She didn’t want to take a nap now only for her to stay up the rest of the night. Her socked feet then took her to the small windowsill facilitated by the inn, and she had decided to watch the people outside instead.
Her breath accidentally fogged up the glass as she sighed, making the little shops and stands and people walking blurry for a little bit, just enough time for Fern to lose track of a little girl who was shopping with an older male figure for winter attires. It made her lose the smile she didn’t even realize she had, before she sat up straighter to wipe at the window, clearing the fog from it to help her see better.
The view outside wasn’t much, just white and gray all around, not lively in the slightest, but it was also quiet.
A glint of light from the plaza’s fountain caught her attention, and her eyes landed on a large axe sitting on the back of a young boy, hair red like embers, quite the contrast from the white snow.
“Stark-sama.”
Of course, he didn’t hear her. Not only was she in a building away from the plaza, sitting three stories above him, but he seemed to have a very serious discussion with someone–someone who seemed to blend into the white snow.
Frieren’s clothes, hair, and skin seemed to camouflage her from her surroundings. Fern had to admit she wouldn’t have caught sight of her had she not spotted Stark first. She seemed rather relaxed, but not tired or sleepy, her posture slightly leaned as she listened to Stark explain something inaudible to her. The pigtails on her head bobbed slightly, following the movements of her head as she nodded to Stark’s discussion. Her eyes were casted downwards, towards her boots and the cobbled plaza ground, and her hands were shoved somewhere in her coat pocket—she did get cold rather easily.
It was fairly strange to see Stark and Frieren discussing so seriously, especially where Stark was talking so much and Frieren was listening so much. The conversation seemed to be quite docile as well, since she hasn’t seen Stark cower in fear or receive a glare from Frieren. On the contrary, she even looked sympathetic, and gave a little bit of input as well, taking one hand out of her warm pockets to make small hand gestures in her message.
Fern knew Stark and Frieren would deny this if she ever told them, but she realized how much alike they were a while ago.
Stark was a clueless boy who couldn’t be bothered to go the extra mile. He’s also scared of a lot of things, quite paradoxical for warriors, but she and Frieren ignored it over the years they’ve been traveling together. Meanwhile, Frieren was a sleepy little elf mage who probably couldn't take care of herself had she been traveling alone. She overslept, she doesn’t take proper meals unless reminded, and might not leave a village for an entire year if she isn’t constantly reminded of their goal.
Yet without anyone needed to remind her, Fern is constantly reminded of her and her master’s contrast in age and in experience. Fern’s entire lifespan doesn’t even cover one-one hundredth of her master’s life, and the experiences she’s had most likely doesn’t even cover one-one thousandth of her master’s. Frieren herself was a part of the hero party who defeated the Demon King. She wasn’t destined for greatness, she already has done greatness, and Fern is constantly humbled and honored to be learning directly from her.
And Stark was still a warrior now, wasn’t he? Sure, he was still learning, and he made mistakes sometimes, but he was still a great help in combat especially when the idea of using magic seemed like too much effort. He was strong and he was compassionate and caring to everyone, in eccentric ways that Fern has yet to discover more of, but they’re unique, and very…well, Stark. He may be a little slow and clueless most of the time, but she had to admit it was what made him so admirable. Who was going to like a figure too perfect for anyone, a flawless hero with no faults and quirks of their own?
And looking at the two right now, made Fern feel just a tiny bit of warmth in her chest, despite the cold weather.
Stark was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck now, as if he had said something wrong or embarrassing, his face scrunched in an expression Fern couldn’t read clearly because the plaza was too far away. Frieren on the other hand was saying something to him, a small smile on her face as if she was understanding what Stark was saying, one of her hands on his shoulder. Her aquamarine eyes twinkled, as if she was encouraging or assuring him of something, like transferring courage through the gaze in her eyes alone.
From up here, Fern could see Stark lower his hand from his neck, resting it briefly on his wrist—which was a strange movement to make, before she realized that he was rubbing the material of the bracelet he was wearing.
She sighed again, the window before her fogging up once more. Her hands rose to wipe on the fog so she could see better, the cleaning done in a flash with the material of her sleeve—but just enough time for Fern to be reminded of the bracelet on her own wrist, the pattern of a certain flower.
Fern watched the plaza through the window again, her eyes darting around to find amber hair and scarlet coats, accompanied by a woman in all white, blending into the snow, but they were nowhere to be found, as if the two had simply disappeared into thin air, or was just a mirage Fern imagined inside her head—which was not at all that impossible, considering that Frieren listening so intently on Stark’s woes, and even giving him advice was something she herself believed was more unlikely than her master waking up at 6 AM without her help at all.
Her lips formed a small pout when she realized she lost them, choosing to lay her eyes on a nearby stall with glittering jewelry and accessories—something she recently realized she has been picking up interest on. The stall was rather close, giving her a chance to see the offered items without having to put on her coat, boots and actually step outside into the cold. A pair of hair ornaments were seen among the silver jewelry and she laughed to herself, imagining if her master would look any good in them, considering her hair was silvery enough already.
Her daydream came to a halt when the door handle clicked and the door creaked open, making Fern look away from the window for the first time in a while.
“Welcome back,” she smiled, finding both Frieren and Stark by the door.
The two looked cold, Stark’s nose red because he wasn’t hiding his face under a scarf like Frieren was. The latter took off her coat hastily and threw her scarf on the floor before diving headfirst into her bed, curling into a ball when she met the warm, fragrant blankets. She did hate the cold just as much as Fern did. Stark took a seat on the vanity chair and leaned his chin on his arm, propping his elbow on the small vanity.
Her smile widened just slightly, so it wasn’t just a mirage.
“Did you two find anything interesting?”
Frieren rolled a little in her bed, “This town is dead to me. Let’s look for another.”
“Just because we can’t find something to pick on or a spell to learn, doesn’t mean this place offers nothing, you know,” Stark chided. “Besides, it's cold. I know we should always be moving, but I’d rather not travel in this weather, it demotivates me.”
“When are you ever motivated, Stark-sama?”
“You’re so rude,” he pouted.
Fern sighed.
The room was quiet for a little bit, each to their own thoughts.
Fern could slightly hear the ruffle of fabric against something smooth. Stark was fidgeting with his bracelet again.
“That said,” he started, after a while, “I was thinking we could try some of this town’s traditional delicacies for dinner.”
Fern’s smile widened, but Frieren rolled in her bed and intervened before she could answer the offer.
“I’ll eat at the inn’s dinner. It’s too cold for that kind of activity,” she said, before propping herself up on her elbows and racing for a book atop her abandoned suitcase on the foot of her bed, “Besides, I’ve been here before. Himmel took me to try their food, while the weather was friendlier, obviously.”
Stark whined, “Shouldn’t you be our tour guide, then?”
“Reading,” she replied bluntly, opening a page towards the end.
He sighed, now eyeing Fern, “How about you?”
She pondered for a little, eyeing the windowsill she was just sitting on minutes ago. The idea of leaving their perfectly warm room in their inn was too much for her, but a tug on her chest did tell her to go.
“I’ll go,” she said.
Stark’s eyes lit up, as if she was giving him her entire world and not agreeing to have dinner with him in some random town, “Really?”
“Yeah,” Fern replied, walking over to their coat hanger, picking up Frieren’s garments from the floor before taking her own, “Are there any recommendations, Frieren-sama?”
Frieren hummed, eyes on her book, “Their apple pies are decent,” she said after a while, “The commodity here is cattle, so you should find a lot of beef and lamb.”
Fern secured her coat over her shoulders and put on her scarf, making sure she was warm. “Alright,” she said, “Shall we go, then?”
Stark shot up from his seat, nodding, “Let’s go.”
“We’ll be back in a little bit, Frieren-sama,” Fern called from the now open doorway, “We’ll bring back some apple pie too.”
“Okay, don’t talk to strangers, kids,” she said offhandedly, one hand waving while the other still held her book.
“Will do,” Stark replied, before shutting the door behind him.
Frieren could just hear the two chatting as they descended down the stairs of the inn to the first floor, their voices fading away and eventually disappearing into silence.
Frieren sighed.