A weather-beaten three-masted sailing ship was cutting through the boundless blue silk.
Its hull was a deep oak color, bleached pale by the sun.
Lara stood on the deck, leaning against the mast, lost in thought.
Hardly a cloud could be seen across the entire sky, and the sun was beating down viciously on her dark-silver armor — burning hot enough that Lara was finding it uncomfortable.
Not a single crew member was up on deck to sun himself with her.
Only the helmsman was still up on deck, keeping the ship on course — and even he was tucked away in the shade thrown by the canvas.
There weren’t any mercenaries on this ship; the crew all looked as if they’d come up out of piracy, so every one of them had a certain amount of fighting skill.
And, according to the captain, this shipping route didn’t have many monsters on it, and even pirates would, out of respect for him, rarely come looking for trouble with them.
With not much else to do, Lara had been assigned to stand watch on the deck.
Because of her previous experiences, she wasn’t all that eager to get close to the water.
The summer sun was painfully bright, and the sea breeze, hot and humid, was particularly draining.
Lara gazed off into the distance.
As far as her eyes could see, there was nothing but ocean, and more ocean.
Deep blue, indigo, layer upon layer spreading out to the horizon, meeting the equally boundless sky.
A few seagulls wheeled around the mast, every now and then diving down to skim across the glittering surface of the sea, hunting the flying fish stirred up by the ship’s passage.
Under the blazing summer sun, all Lara could do was mutter to herself, fending off the boredom of being alone.
“All right, all right — being sun-baked still beats running into other dangers, I guess.” “What, you already bored out of your mind?” The helmsman up at the bow, wearing nothing but a vest, heard Lara’s muttering and tried to strike up a conversation.
He fiddled with the wheel — there was nothing unusual on the course, and chatting with someone was at least more comfortable than stewing alone.
“Don’t go thinking this weather’s so bad.
You meet rain out at sea — now that’s real torture.” The helmsman rested one hand on the wheel and leaned back in his seat, turning his head to look at Lara.
The kerchief on his head flapped against his neck in the sea breeze.
“Looking at you, hauling around in a full suit of armor — when that happens, it’s really going to break your heart.” Of course Lara knew.
That was why she was constantly using gather water now to keep the armor from being corroded by the moisture.
Even though the long stretches of magic-use and sun exposure left her a little dazed, somewhere along the way she had begun to almost enjoy this monk-like, ascetic kind of life.
Putting pressure on her body let her mind relax.
In the blink of an eye, more than half the sea voyage had passed.
Along the way they’d only run into a monster a single time, but pirates had been surprisingly plentiful — some of them really did do exactly what the captain had said and just sailed right past their ship.
Of course there were also some with shorter tempers, but most of them were paper tigers: they looked all swaggering and intimidating, yet it was rare for any of them to last more than two exchanges against Lara.
There were also a few exceptions, though, and Lara’s way of dealing with them was to set a fire on the pirates’ ship.
The ones with real skill she let board; the rest — the moment they dared try to jump across — she just hammered down with Magic Missile straight into the sea, until the boarders found themselves outnumbered and surrounded.
Among those exceptions there was even one who claimed to be a seventh-rank mage, who tried to use that very same tactic against Lara — only, in the end, his skills weren’t up to it, and Lara doused the fire with a single water orb.
That was also Lara’s first proper magical battle.
A bright moon hung overhead; the water was calm, the waves were still.
Several long tables had been pushed together by the crew to form two enormous dining tables.
Spread across them was a feast of vegetables and meat from various land beasts — the best batch of fresh food the ship had in store.
“Come on, a toast!” The captain rested one hand on Lara’s armor, leaned in close to her, and chugged a great mouthful of beer in one go.
A wide, exhilarated grin bared his yellow-brown teeth to the air.
“A toast to our great hero, Brother Lara!” He really was a little worked up.
This voyage was probably going to net more than three of his previous trips combined — the hull had taken almost no damage, he hadn’t lost a single crew brother, and right now he had to count himself in luck for having found such a fine workhorse.
On the deck, merchants and crew were all mixed in together, savoring the last of the good food they’d have for a while.
After this, it would be nothing but hardtack and seafood.
Lara didn’t want to miss out either.
All she could do was lift the helmet just enough to leave a small gap, then pass food in through it bit by bit and savor it slowly, all the while taking care not to let anyone catch a glimpse of her face.
Over the course of more than twenty days together, the captain had of course come to know that Lara wasn’t exactly the talkative sort.
He didn’t really care, though — so long as she was bringing in profits, even a mute would do just fine.
“Brother Lara, you’ve got a hell of a hand for the craft.
I, Jack, am impressed.
Next time you ever want to head back south, you’re more than welcome to grace this ship again.” “WHOOO!!!” Lara’s silence didn’t dampen the crew’s mood at all — she was simply the excuse everyone had gathered around in the first place.
The captain pulled himself away from Lara and headed up front to drink with the crew until they couldn’t see straight.
But some of the merchants did come over to her, looking to strike up some kind of arrangement.
Take, for instance, the red-clad man in front of her now: hair faintly golden and curling, deep-blue eyes, a tall and graceful frame, and impeccable manners.
Following at his shoulder was another man, this one in black robes, “Good evening, Lady Lara.
There are a few things I’d like to discuss with you.
You may call me Haddo.” Placing his hat over his chest, Haddo gave a slight bow to convey his respect to Lara.
“And the gentleman beside me is Vedra — a third-rank mage.” “Lady Lara, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.” Vedra, too, bowed slightly.
He and Haddo struck up a rhythm together — and the way they had positioned themselves left no room for Lara to slip away.
She was effectively cornered.
“What was it you wanted?” Lara felt this was getting a bit delicate.
In Frieren’s world, a third-rank mage already counted as a kind of entry-level threshold; in the anime, basically every named character started from that rank.
Lara stopped eating, both hands straightening her helmet.
Even though she wasn’t exactly doing a great job of staying hidden, the fewer people who knew about her, the better — otherwise a single girl running around in a medieval-style world would simply be too dangerous.
‘Identify.’ ‘Vedra.
Human.
Age: 43.
Grip Strength: 46 kg.
Mana: 440.’ With no private space to speak in, 0083 had no choice but to relay the information silently inside Lara’s head.
The corner of Haddo’s mouth lifted.
Because Lara rarely struck up conversation with anyone, he had been forced to come over and seek her out himself; having this taciturn person actually respond to his pleasantries gave him a flicker of satisfaction — he found it gratifying.
“Allow me to introduce myself properly.
My name is Haddo Lavis Laya.
I hail from Sia, in the Central Nations — and I happen to be a marquess of the country in which the destination of this voyage, Olan, is located.” He casually picked a seat across from Lara and sat down.
With one hand he put his hat back on, and with the other he tidied his appearance.
Only once he was satisfied did he go on: “In the earlier battle with the pirates, I had the good fortune to witness Lady Lara in action.
Your razor-sharp swordsmanship and skilled use of magic moved me considerably.” Haddo leaned slightly forward, his tone carrying a certain eager confidence that brooked no objection: “At such a young age, with such ability — to be cooped up in this ship’s cabin as a temporary guard is far too great a waste of you.
My house is deeply rooted in Sia, and we are precisely in need of young talents of Lady Lara’s caliber to serve us.
Whether it be generous remuneration, or a broader stage on which to perform…” His words carried a tone of sheer matter-of-factness, as though what he were holding out were not so much an olive branch as a gift of fate that the other party ought, by all rights, to gladly accept.
A brief silence from within the armor — and then that muffled voice spoke again, calm as a windless sea, not a ripple in it: “My thanks for your high regard, Lord Haddo.” Lara’s form of address was very formal, distancing.
The helmet seemed to tilt slightly, as if shaking from side to side.
“Olan City is only a stopover on this trip of mine, not its end.
Your goodwill, my lord, I accept in spirit.” Her refusal was clear and direct, with no extraneous explanation, and she left herself no room to bend at all.
That cold, hard armor of hers, in this moment, had become the best shield for her stand-offish posture.
The smile on Haddo’s face dimmed slightly, but didn’t disappear; only the eager light at the back of his eyes cooled.
“Is that so?
Then it’s truly a pity.” His tone still kept its grace, but it now carried a barely perceptible note of regret, along with something deeper that he was weighing.
He stood up and motioned for Vedra to follow.
Vedra once more bowed slightly to Lara, then followed Haddo off the deck.
Amid the endless turning of sun and moon, the sailing ship at last reached the dock that belonged to it.
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