Chapter Text
The room is large and dimly lit, and as she sits up Fern notices the slumped bodies of at least a dozen other people scattered around. She’s immediately wide awake, forcefully blinking away the drowsiness and rising to her feet.
“Stark? Mistress Frieren?” she calls out.
She can’t see her elven mentor, but she quickly spots Stark’s red jacket not far from her, so she runs over.
“Stark? Stark, wake up.” Fern shakes him roughly. He groans, but reluctantly rolls over and blinks awake.
“Fern?” his voice is rough, and once he’s more awake he squeaks out: “Where are we?”
The sound of their voices are uncomfortably loud in the quiet room, and several of the other people start to stir and sit up. Fern recognises most of them as mages from the First Class Mage exams.
“I’m not sure, but Mistress Frieren is missing,” she says urgently.
The short, older man that Fern recognises as Denken walks over, accompanied by two ladies she believes are called Ehre and Laufen. Nobody speaks yet as the others slowly trickle towards their spot in the room where they seem to be gathering. Übel stands close to Land (an interesting duo, she thinks), and Kanne and Lawine are managing to refrain from bickering which speaks to how seriously everyone is taking this situation. Genau and Methode are here too, and so is Sense, and Wirbel and Richter…? Then Fern belatedly notices Serie lurking at the back of the group, doing a good job at staying unnoticed despite her massive mana presence.
Was everyone involved with the First Class Mage Exam here? …but then why was Stark here? Fern scans the group again, spotting three more faces she hadn’t initially noticed: a very tired looking Sein, the Graf of Granat, and the elven monk called Kraft.
“The mana here is strange,” Sense says softly.
“Indeed, we have found ourselves in an interesting situation.” Denken strokes his beard.
“Mistress Frieren is missing.” Fern jumps in, voicing her worry. As far as she is concerned they can figure out the details after they’re sure everyone is safe.
“Scharf is not here either,” Wirbel adds.
“Does anyone know how we got here?” Graf Granat asks, crossing his arms.
Sein sighs, “I would like to know that too. One minute I’m on the road, and the next I’m asleep on the floor here, wherever here is.”
There are several people voicing their agreement and describing similar lines of events. They don’t remember anything between wherever they last were, and waking up here, and there seems to be no correlations at all!
Fern scowls, looking around the room once more. It’s still dimly lit by magic lamps along dark stone walls. The shape hasn’t changed: it’s very large and square, and there’s no visible doors or windows or alcoves of any kind. The only things in the room aside from the people are various types of chair. Benches, armchairs, reclining sofas. Enough seats for everyone.
There’s a piece of paper on the bench closest to her. She beelines for it, and everyone notices.
“What’s that?” Kanne asks timidly.
Fern unfolds the paper carefully, “A note…”
“Well read it aloud, why don’t you! Don’t leave us hanging!” Übel drawls.
“Right,” Fern clears her throat, “My dear guests, do not be alarmed. You are safe here. No harm shall befall you under my care, and I am no threat to your wellbeing. I apologise for the stress I will have caused by bringing you here without your say so and without due warning. Any companions you believe are missing are right where you left them, and they will remain so until your return. Time outside of this place has been frozen,”
”What?” Lawine interrupts incredulously. Everyone turns to look at her and she flushes. “Sorry! I mean— yippee, we’re not in danger— but, freezing time? Seriously? How powerful must you be to do that? Is that even possible?”
“At this point magic doesn’t surprise me anymore…” Stark mutters.
“Anything is possible with magic, my dear,” Denken says, ignoring Stark. “Mistress Serie, do you know of anything like this?” he turns towards her and several people startle when they notice the small yet intimidating elf lurking behind the group, obviously not having noticed her earlier.
Serie crosses her arms, shifting her weight on her heels. “No.” Fern can tell is frustrates her to admit that, but she can also see the gleam of intrigue in those golden eyes. “I have not encountered anything like this, though the existence of time-freezing magic is certainly not outside the realm of possibility. Continue to read, what else does it say.” It’s less of a request and more of a demand.
“You are here for a purpose. I shall not explain what, for I believe it best you decide for yourselves what that may be. However, I will tell you this: in this room I will project scenes of the future and past for your viewing. If you must have a way to describe it, call it illusion magic that facilitates the sharing of memories.”
Several people murmur curiously.
“The past and future? What an opportunity we are being afforded!” Denken’s eyes are wide.
“Memories?” Edel questions. “Who’s memories?”
Methode puts a hand on her hip, “I suppose we’ll be finding out.”
“I ask that you pay careful attention, and refrain from violence while here. Shortly, a door shall appear which leads to bed rooms, a lavatory, and kitchen. Your needs will be provided for during your stay here, as you will remain in this place until I have shown you all that I can. At that point you will be returned to precisely where and when you left. It is up to you what you decide to do with the things that you learn here. Fare well.” Fern pauses. “It is not signed.”
“How long are we going to be here?” Graf Granat questions, a serious look on his face. “Is time outside here truly frozen? If we are going to be here long enough to require living facilities, then if time is not frozen we will be losing days, potentially weeks.”
Fern imagines he must be concerned about his home, and distantly wonders if there’s anyone who could cover for his duties while he’s here— if time isn’t frozen. Goddess, if time isn’t frozen then what is Mistress Frieren doing? Fern dreads to think.
“We have no choice but to trust that is it,” Methode points out.
Stark just shrugs, “It’s not like we’re losing anything. We’re apparently not wasting any time, and we’re safe. Our mystery person is even being a good host!”
Looks are exchanged around the group.
“While that seems true, they may switch up on us at any point.” Wirbel says seriously.
Kanne frowns, “They seem so earnest though! Very apologetic. And it’s not like they set many rules! Just pay attention and no fighting, it’s easy enough!”
“The sooner we get this over with, I assume the sooner we get out of here,” Richter speaks up for the first time. He doesn’t sound enthused.
Fern makes up her mind. “Let’s just see what this is going to be about. If it turns out we’ve been deceived, then we can come up with a plan.” she says stalwartly.
“I assume we need to be seated for anything to begin.” Sense says, carefully settling into an armchair. “The furniture is all facing the same wall. Presumably where the… memories, will be projected.”
It’s a solid line of logic and no one can disagree, so everyone begins to follow her lead, choosing a seat and trying to get comfy. Serie, Graf Granat, and Denken grab the remaining armchairs, and everyone else is left to choose between wooden chairs, padded benches, and a handful of reclining sofas. Kanne and Lawine practically end up on top of each-other when they jump for the same cushioned bench, and Fern elects to stick nearby Stark, following him to a reclining sofa. Sein seems to decide to stay near them too, probably because he isn’t familiar with most of the people here, Fern realises.
She hears Land grumble under his breath when Übel picks a chair beside his, and find herself amused by his distinctly bothered expression.
Once everyone is seated, the wall they face begins to glow, and they are greeted with the sight of a wagon travelling up a stone road beneath a bright blue sky.