In the springtime, the Elf Forest was in full bloom.
The master and apprentice, having traveled from afar, arrived just in time for the flower season. Petals occasionally drifted in the wind, forming a tapestry of vibrant colors atop their carriage.
A fragrant aroma filled the air, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of bees—a scene brimming with life.
As soon as they entered the town's vicinity, Frieren's ride smoothed out. The journey had been mostly on dirt roads; even the so-called main thoroughfares connecting nations were in terrible condition, making for a bumpy, jarring trip.
It's good to be home.
A smile touched the silver-haired girl's lips. She couldn't help but tap her hands on her knees, her body swaying left and right with the rhythm of the horse's hooves.
"So, you're surprisingly the homesick type, Master?"
Flamme slowed the carriage's pace. In truth, she too was enjoying the spring forest; everything felt so vibrant and full of energy.
"No, having a permanent residence doesn't matter much to me. I'm just happy to return from afar and see how different the Elf Town looks. It's only been a month, hasn't it? And yet there are already several new large buildings."
"Well, there are many mages here. While we can't compare to the Magic City in terms of sheer numbers, our ratio of mages in the population is probably the second highest, surpassed only by the demons."
"It's the highest. Demons aren't people. Sooner or later, I'll destroy them and drive them back to savagery."
"True. Their so-called homes and culture are just a civilization-mimicking show they put on in the Northern Ruins... it's quite creepy."
"Let's not talk about such unpleasant things. Look who's here to greet us."
"Hey!"
In the distance, they could see Miliardel waving a wine bottle, occasionally jumping up and down. Her face was bright and radiant, like the morning sun of a summer day.
Beside her stood the Water Mirror Demon, carrying a basket filled with various kinds of wine, still exuding the air of a faithful guardian.
Other elves were at the gate to greet them as well. After all, this trip was Frieren's longest since her journey to the Labyrinth Kingdom. They hadn't seen her for some time, so it was only natural to welcome her home.
Flamme brought the carriage to a stop.
Frieren leaped down and said with a smile, "You calculated our arrival time, didn't you?"
"Of course. I knew from the records of your passage through the cities along the way. That's why I've already prepared breakfast."
Tracking the two of them in the central region was simple for Miliardel. As the banks and merchant guilds expanded, an intelligence network was gradually established, bringing in a flood of information daily—especially concerning the person she cared about most.
"Welcome back to you too, Flamme."
"It's been a long time, Sister Adele." The red-haired girl looked around in amazement and murmured, "So much has changed, I almost don't recognize the place."
As far as the eye could see, there were buildings four or five stories tall, and just like in the Magic City, towering water towers had been erected, standing majestically on the horizon. The roads had also been renovated and widened, making the ride incredibly smooth.
Furthermore, a new district was visibly under construction according to a plan, promising future growth in both area and population.
A major economic town was on the rise, one that might one day rival the Magic City itself.
"This is all my pride and joy."
"You designed it?"
"The planning, at least. I left the specific details to the architects. In any case, the Elf Town will continue to grow and will eventually reach the scale of a city."
Miliardel pointed into the distance, where more elven children could be seen playing and roughhousing in the streets.
Her and Frieren's goal was the stable development of their race. It seemed they had already laid a healthy foundation. All that remained was to let time do its work, and their numbers would slowly increase. After all, the elves' social structure was far stronger than that of the demons; once their population began to grow, it would not be easily shaken.
As they were chatting, an elven mage approached to greet them:
"We heard that you had a sparring match with Serie, Frieren, and that it was a close fight."
"That's right! Master even won the final hand-to-hand brawl."
"The result isn't very meaningful. Neither of us used our truly powerful magic, and we excluded curses. It was just a friendly match."
Despite her words, the atmosphere grew even more enthusiastic, as Frieren herself hadn't denied having a slight edge.
"Regardless, the title of the strongest in the fight against the demons still belongs to the elven race."
"A passing of the torch, you could say."
"Come to think of it, Frieren was born after Serie became famous, right? Many years have passed. Our new generation of powerhouses has matured. When it comes to top-tier quality, we're not losing to the demons."
"They are only forcibly united by the brute strength of the Demon King alone. He's just a lunatic leader with no real skill in ruling."
"Speaking of which, it's been a long time since I've seen the monk, Mr. Kraft. He's very strong too. I wonder if he's dead or just traveling somewhere on the continent."
"If we elves weren't so scattered, how could the demons have ever stood a chance?"
Everyone began to discuss animatedly.
If one thought about it carefully, the elven race actually had no shortage of top-tier powerhouses; in fact, they had a numerical advantage at the highest echelons. However, most of them paid no mind to their own kin, living detached from society. From Serie's perspective, many who had been missing for so long could be considered dead.
No wonder the demons dared to attack.
Now, however, a sense of unity and centripetal force was growing within the elven race.
Especially with Frieren thwarting the demons' plots time and time again, they were now forced to believe: an anomaly had emerged among the elves.
She possessed a strong sense of kinship and protected her people, which in turn influenced everyone else to change.
"I almost forgot. Before I left, Serie asked me to pass on a message: she said she'll come back to our elven village for a visit later..."
"She still calls it a village. She probably has no idea how much it has changed."
Hearing this, the elves' faces lit up with pleasant surprise, and they all nodded to express their welcome. In truth, Serie was of such a senior generation among her people that few who held grudges against her back then were still around; time had long since smoothed over those conflicts.
Frieren thought to herself silently that after so many years, Serie's awkwardness should have faded. In the future, when she arrived at the village of her memories, she would only be left to marvel at how much had changed.
"Alright, let's not stand around chatting at the gate. Come on, let's go eat."
An excited Miliardel linked arms with the master and apprentice, one on each side, and the smell of alcohol washed over them.
A familiar scent.
At her enthusiastic invitation, some other elven mages joined them. The dining location was set in the cafeteria of the bank's headquarters. The spread was dazzling and aromatic, and most importantly, there was a large quantity of wine.
The town, which already boasted a massive brewery, had no shortage of fine wine, much to her liking.
"Flamme, what were you doing during your time at the Association?"
Although Miliardel's tone was casual, her expression was one of admiration, as if she was certain the girl had already accomplished great things.
"Mostly training and handling documents, or helping out as a teaching assistant. But that was all easy. The more tiring part was when President Serie instructed me in magic and often sought me out for combat training..."
Meanwhile, Frieren, who had heard this all before, was performing routine maintenance on the Water Mirror Demon.
A few moments later.
Flamme recounted her experiences over the past few months at the headquarters of the Continental Magic Association in full detail, including descriptions of the organization's curriculum, key personnel, and operational departments.
Clearly, her time had not been wasted; she had gained a thorough understanding of more than half the organization.
If not for the tasks assigned by Serie, it would have been difficult to learn so much. Most importantly, the hands-on, practical experience could only be cultivated through such assignments.
The President certainly cherished talent.
Miliardel, who also frequently mentored her own subordinates, felt a sense of kinship. She immediately realized that Serie intended to entrust Flamme with great responsibilities in the future, or at least to have the young girl accumulate prestige and experience as quickly as possible for later use.
"To be held in such high regard by the Founder of Magic herself, you must not only have talent, but your conduct must also be excellent."
"Are you talking about the one who's so busy debugging she can't even be bothered to take a bite of food?"
Having just finished her maintenance, Frieren, who had been called out, rolled her eyes at her mischievous friend and spoke:
"You should know the contents of the agreement by now, right? The Empire intends to invest in the Association. Serie suggested that you also invest funds to counterbalance it, but I declined at the time. I said you would likely make the Association too profit-oriented, which would be inconvenient. What do you think?"
"That's true. My funds would be seen as a signal, and it would be troublesome if all the nobles rushed in with their own financial offensives."
"I was right not to agree."
"Exactly. We can't take risks for such petty profits."
A nearby human attendant's mouth twitched. He hadn't expected such a massive deal to be decided in just a few words. The "petty profit" his boss Miliardel spoke of was worth a fortune, and this was a prime opportunity to invest in the Association at the President's invitation. Yet Frieren had rejected it on the spot, and then stated it so bluntly. And Miliardel wasn't offended at all; in fact, she seemed to approve, showing their perfect understanding of one another.
Financial dealings often create conflict, but the elves cared little for such things. To them, the most precious thing was always time, of which they had a great abundance.
For two friends as close as them, this was a trivial matter.
"I just had a gut feeling that you shouldn't invest directly; so that was the reason. But we can't ignore it either. We must counter the influence of the Empire's funding. Are there any other ways?"
"You need to be more flexible. Who said the money has to be given to the Association? Giving it to the Magic City is the same thing."
"It can be done like that?!"
"Of course it works. It's the same principle as us building up the headquarters' base of operations. Since Serie needs money, we should just give it to her. I have more than I know what to do with anyway."
"Of course you have a lot saved up. You only spend bonds, not cash."
"Don't worry, the Association is family. For our own people, it'll definitely be real gold and silver."
"So, you mainly use debt to invest elsewhere? I don't know much about it, but that seems very risky. What happens if you can't cover your cash flow?"
"Then I'll just rob Peter to pay Paul."
Miliardel casually downed a bottle, her cheeks flushing red as she giggled foolishly. Her bold heart seemed completely unconcerned with the vast economic operations entangled behind her. Indeed, only such a person could manage wealth without being constantly on edge.
The solutions she came up with surely went beyond merely patching up holes.
Frieren suspected that if pushed, Miliardel might even ask her to go fight the demons and plunder them, since the fallen northern territories held vast amounts of gold and jewels that those creatures never spent.
From what Frieren knew of her childhood friend, the drunken elf was fundamentally audacious, with a bizarre way of thinking.
"I've delivered the message. The rest is up to you."
"By the way, are there any other tasks you need my help with?"
This multi-party gambit had proven the elves' influence, so Miliardel was quite proactive. She believed they should press their advantage and continue to invest their chips to further solidify their dominant position.
Although the Empire had returned defeated, it had sounded a warning bell. Once you have power, you can no longer remain on the sidelines; you must seize the opportunity to enter the game.
Magic was somewhat distant from the common people, but the money she controlled permeated every aspect of society. If she didn't create an intricate, deeply rooted network now, it would be difficult to handle the attacks of future competitors.
Flamme, who had been listening quietly all this time, took out a stack of planning documents.
"The President hopes that the Association can establish a branch beyond the Labyrinth Kingdom, setting down roots in the southern region. It will primarily be Master's responsibility... which actually means it's my responsibility."
The silver-haired girl nodded.
It was well known that she would soon be entering a slumber to rest, so she had no choice but to entrust this to her only direct disciple. Moreover, Serie also intended to cultivate Flamme's talents; such a capable individual couldn't be left idle. She needed to be developed in all areas, forged into a hexagonal warrior.
Miliardel took the plans and glanced over them, seeing only a budget black hole—an investment with absolutely no consideration for returns.
Unless the surrounding nations also agreed and offered their support.
That would require lobbying, which would also cost money, but theoretically, it would be cheaper than a direct investment...
After a few thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant, she agreed, "Leave the fundraising to me. Flamme, you just need to oversee the Northwind Fortress branch and manage it well."
"Can you do it?"
"Everyone has their specialty. Let Adele handle the money."
Most people would balk at a project like establishing a southern branch for the Magic Association, but this pair of childhood friends was actually looking forward to it. They had plenty of time to see it through; only elves would dare to commit to a plan that could easily span a hundred years.
A branch in the central region was indeed an excellent choice. They might as well use it to open up a new territory while the demonic threat loomed—an opportunity that might not come again.
Since both her elders had given their assurances, Flamme had nothing left to worry about.
Had anyone from the headquarters given her the same guarantee, she would have remained wary, wondering if there was a catch to such a daunting task.
But she trusted her sister and her master.
No one in the elven race valued long-term planning more than these two. Their gaze was fixed on a much more distant future, a sight that humans could not see in their entire lifetimes... unless she herself worked harder to accelerate the process.
"Don't worry. I will definitely see to it that a branch of the Association appears in the south."
"Good, then it's decided." Frieren made the final call. "I'll rest in town for a while longer, and I'll take the opportunity to visit the branch. After that, I will enter my slumber."
Afterwards, the three of them said no more and began to feast.
The master and apprentice had been traveling nonstop and hadn't eaten well, so they greatly welcomed this banquet. The feeling of a full stomach was blissful.
Besides, there were always subtle differences in taste between regions; the flavor of home was still the best.
As for Miliardel, she ate a few bites before drinking heartily. With so much good news today, it was worth celebrating with a grand drink.
New investment points would invigorate the bank. Money sitting idle was meaningless; it had to flow to exert influence.
In the past, she had been more cautious without reliable targets, but now, the clear cooperation with the Association was reassuring.
"Cheers!"
The short-haired elf, drinking to her heart's content, raised her bottle high. Seeing this, Frieren and Flamme exchanged a smile before raising their own cups to gently clink against her bottle.
The crisp clinking sound was a declaration of their return.
_____
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