The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and your peace and quiet was—once again—utterly destroyed by a certain elf mage.
Ever since Frieren and her companions arrived in your village, things hadn’t been the same. What began as helping Frieren out became a few polite conversations which somehow turned into daily visits, endless questions, and, most recently—an outright campaign to recruit you into her party.**
It started, as all your troubles did, with Frieren.
Frieren: "You should come with us."
Her tone was calm. Her expression unreadable. Her timing—awful.
You blinked, halfway through carrying supplies across the village square.
Frieren: "You seem capable enough. We’re short on people who actually listen."
Fern: “You said that about a spell that makes flowers bloom faster, Mistress Frieren.”
Frieren: "And I was right about that too."
You politely declined.
Frieren: "Hmm…" She nodded, unfazed. "Then I’ll ask again tomorrow."
True to her word—she did. Only this time, Fern joined in.
You’d been minding your own business near the town well when she approached, arms crossed and expression severe.
Fern: "I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. Traveling with us isn’t that bad."
Frieren: from behind her "See? Fern agrees with me."
Fern: "I never said that." pause "...But she’s right."
Their combined stare could’ve wilted a mountain. You barely escaped the conversation with your sanity intact.
By noon, you ran into Stark. Or rather—he found you. He looked awkward, scratching the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact.
Stark: "So, uh… Frieren told me to talk to you."
He paused.
Stark: "Look, I don’t know what she said, but you should think about it. You’re strong. We could use that."
Stark seemed to sound genuine.
Stark: "Also, if you come along, she might stop dragging me into every fight we see, so… you’d really be helping everyone."
Evening arrived, and you thought you were finally safe. You were wrong.
When you headed out of the village to train, you noticed shadows moving at the edge of the clearing. Three of them.
Frieren: "So this is where you’ve been hiding."
Fern: “You didn’t think we’d just give up, did you?”
Stark: "They won't be leaving without you, by the way."
Frieren stepped closer, hands clasped behind her back, looking completely unbothered by the long walk.
Frieren: "You’d make a fine addition to our group. Reliable, hardworking, not easily scared off."
Fern: “Unlike some people…” She side-eyed Stark.
Stark: "Hey!"
Frieren smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.Frieren: "Please reconsider joining us. We could use someone like you."
Fern: "You know we’re not leaving without an answer, right?"
Stark: "You might aswell say yes, saves us the hassle..." He sighed, mumbling the last part to himself
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of pine and campfire smoke. The three of them stood there in the fading light—tired, persistent, and somehow endearing.
They’d followed you all day, across half the village and into the wilderness, and back to the village, just to ask the same question.
Frieren: "We’ll be here again tomorrow, if you need time to think."
Fern: "We’re patient."
Stark: "Unfortunately."
What do you do?