Fairy Tail: The Faint Smile in Earthland

Date: Year X785 — Early November

Location: Magnolia — Guild Hall

The first frost of the season shimmered atop Magnolia's rooftops, turning the town into a quiet quilt of pale morning light. With harvest festivals behind them, the streets shifted into winter preparations—stalls hawked jars of pickled root vegetables and woolen scarves, merchants argued over heating stones and salted meats, and the air held that sharp promise of coming snow.

Inside Fairy Tail's guild hall, the usual bright noise had dulled to a focused murmur. The atmosphere felt like a breath held too long. Supply routes, barely stabilized after Voldane's siege, still trembled under each new rumor. Macao's careful diplomacy and half-whispered deals had kept Magnolia afloat—for now.

But nobody believed the danger was gone.

Macao sat at his worn desk, a sealed envelope in his hands. The crimson wax bore the Council's crest, deep and official. He broke it with a slow, deliberate motion.

Wakaba leaned in, pipe unlit for once. Reedus hovered nearby, his frown deepening. Warren's voice crackled softly from a lacrima crystal at the table's edge.

"Council dispatch?" Warren asked.

Macao nodded, eyes flicking across the parchment. "Official commission," he said, the words tasting like ash.

"Eight-month field assignment," he read aloud. "Rotating diplomatic escort and investigative oversight. Southern and western Fiore."

Kinana approached, brows knit tight. "Where exactly?"

Macao spread the parchment across the table, smoothing it with a palm. "Starts in the western mining belts, then south through Marchwood, down along the coast. It's thorough. Very thorough."

Wakaba's jaw twitched. "Conveniently thorough."

Reedus let out a quiet grunt. "They want her gone. Out of Magnolia. Out of reach."

Warren's voice sharpened through the crystal. "Or right under their thumb."

Macao nodded slowly, shoulders dropping as if he'd aged a decade in a heartbeat. "They're testing her. Or cornering her. Maybe both."

Southern Outskirts — Teresa's Estate

Outside, frost dusted the tall grasses, each blade shimmering like a thousand tiny daggers under the pale morning sky. Teresa stood unmoving, silver eyes reflecting the cold light. Her armor remained hidden away, but her awareness pulsed outward — a quiet, relentless sweep of the land.

The rogue signatures she once felt had mostly receded, their silence a testament to her earlier strike. But quiet didn't mean peace.

Behind her, familiar footsteps approached — steady, unhurried.

Macao appeared, the Council envelope in hand. He held it out without a word.

Teresa accepted it, her fingers brushing over the embossed seal. She read the contents slowly, as though savoring every carefully chosen lie.

"They call it an opportunity," she murmured. "But it's a test."

Macao folded his arms, gaze fixed on her. "They want to see how you function without Fairy Tail at your back."

"And they buy themselves breathing room," she added, eyes drifting toward the pale horizon. "Eight months of quiet for them to maneuver. Or so they think."

"You don't have to take it," Macao said quietly.

Her gaze remained distant, almost wistful. "It gives me access."

"To what?"

"Territories the Council rarely audits. The hidden strands of smaller guild networks. Dark guild echoes Voldane left behind."

A small pause.

"His web didn't stop at our border."

She handed the letter back to Macao.

"I accept."

Macao's sigh felt like it carried the entire hall's weight. "Gone through winter. Likely into spring."

"I'll report. And if Magnolia calls, I return."

A faint, fleeting smile crossed her lips — there and gone.

"Magnolia is still my anchor."

That Evening — Guild Hall

Word spread like ink in water.

"Eight months?" Reedus repeated, voice flat. "That's not a commission. That's a leash."

Kinana set down a tray of tea, her movements careful and quiet. "It's the Council. They don't offer anything without strings."

Romeo, perched at the edge of a bench, looked up with wide, worried eyes. "She'll be safe, right?"

Macao's answering smile was small but honest. "Safer than most."

Kinana added, her voice soft but firm, "She knows their games better than they do."

Reedus snorted. "Which is exactly why they fear her."

Macao nodded, staring into the middle distance. "They want her gone, but not invisible. Contained, but indispensable."

Wakaba finally lit his pipe, smoke curling slowly around his head like a watchful spirit. "She won't just survive this. She'll learn more than they ever meant her to."

"And she'll bring us information we wouldn't dare touch," Macao said, his voice quiet but edged with a dangerous sort of hope.

Still, the hall felt heavier than before. Eight months could swallow whole lives.

Several Days Later — Crocus

The Council Tower felt colder than usual. Its polished stone reflected every footstep, every shallow breath.

Teresa stood before the high table, posture straight, expression a careful stillness that might have been mistaken for serenity.

Org's voice cut through the air.

"Lady Teresa of Fairy Tail. The Council recognizes your cooperation in this delicate operation. Your presence alone is a stabilizing factor in volatile regions."

She inclined her head. Neither submissive nor defiant — simply present. "I accept the terms as written."

Beside Org, Warrod watched her carefully, his face unreadable.

Org continued, voice crisp and sharp enough to draw blood. "You will submit weekly reports. Deviation from assigned routes or priorities will be noted. Council jurisdiction supersedes all local guild commands."

Teresa's tone didn't flicker. "Understood."

They exchanged parchments. Seals pressed deep into wax. Papers passed briskly, as though everyone wished to finish before the room itself grew colder.

In the corridor outside, Warrod caught up to her.

"You see what they're truly asking," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Yes."

"They want to dilute your presence. Spread you thin."

"They want," she echoed. "But this gives me sight into corners they'd rather I never see."

A small, sad curve touched Warrod's lips. "Don't mistake courtesy for protection. The Council gambles with lives they don't intend to lose themselves."

"I never forget," Teresa replied, already turning away.

That Night — Teresa's Estate

Beneath a sky dusted with cold stars, Teresa moved through her silent preparations.

Her armor floated briefly in front of her, each piece checked with methodical care before vanishing back into Requip space. The Claymore gleamed as she turned it once in her hands — heavy, certain, unchanged.

Her pack was sparse: survival gear, encoded lacrima, a folded map inked with new, winding routes.

Beyond the trees, Magnolia glimmered faintly — a distant hearth light against the frost-edged dark.

She paused, eyes softening.

"I will return," she whispered, the promise small but immovable.

Then she stepped forward, into the hush of the night, and the next chapter began to unfold in her quiet wake.

Far South — Voldane's Encampment

Deep in the echoing stone chambers of his encampment, Voldane bent over fresh reports, his lieutenants waiting like shadows at the edges.

"The Valkyrie departs," one said, almost reverently. "Council-sanctioned rotation. Eight months."

Voldane's mouth curled into a slow smile, predatory and sure.

"Good," he murmured. "The blade leaves the threshold. While she runs the Council's errands, we rebuild."

His finger traced the red-thread routes across the map, tapping at old, half-forgotten junctions.

"Patience."

Around him, new plans slithered into life. Messages passed, networks flickered back awake, and distant contacts sparked to attention.

But Voldane misread the board.

He thought she had left it behind.

In truth, she had only shifted the game — and chosen a new battlefield on her terms.