Hot Spot Sapling (3)

The clouds let fall a scattering of raindrops.

Rain marks slowly accumulated on the surface of the pebble.

It really wasn't moving at all.

The water drop girl poked at it with her finger, and when she got no response, she picked the round pebble up and flipped it over. The less-damp underside began to grow wet.

The pebble remained unresponsive.

Even like that, it won't move.

―It seems like pebbles just can't move, little brother.

The water drop girl pointed at me, then at the pebble, and made a motion of talking.

Ah, she wants me to try talking to it.

―Got it. Hey, Pebble. Doesn't the rain make you cold? Want me to move you into my shade?

I waited for an answer.

The pebble did absolutely nothing as the rain soaked it through.

―Yep, pebbles really can't move.

The water drop girl looked flabbergasted. As a being born to flow and evaporate, she simply couldn't comprehend a little brother who couldn't move. Then again, water drops couldn't speak either.

―Well, he's still family, so I'll take good care of him.

She tapped the pebble gently. A head bobbed, more or less.

That response was pretty lukewarm.

Still, she seemed quietly pleased with it, because once the rain stopped, she measured the pebble's size and began weaving blades of grass into a crown.

The finished grass crown was set atop the pebble. Leftover rainwater glittered on the woven leaves.

―Ta-daa! It's the Grass Crown Pebble!

The water drop girl clapped her hands—clap clap clap.

Then, seized by some amusing idea, she manipulated the damp soil to pile it into a sharp point. She packed it down tight into a sturdy spire, then lifted the pebble.

Rising into the air, the water drop girl placed the pebble on the tip of the spire. Her small hands balanced it with delicate care. When she let go, the pebble settled into place, teetering precariously.

Giggling, the girl circled around to admire it from every angle.

A trill of laughter rang out—kkearureuk.

Um, excuse me? Is it really okay to do that to your little brother? If he falls, won't he crack?

Then again, this was a being compressed from a plate-sized pebble plus a chunk of mana stone, so my worry was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠probably needless.

I fixed my gaze on the water drop.

―Playing around can be a good way to bond, but no pranks that are too dangerous. Understood? You and your little brother don't have the same level of experience.

The water drop didn't agree right away—she actually stopped to think about it. A tiny finger pointed at the spire, a gesture that seemed to ask, Is this much okay?

―Well, your brother is pretty sturdy, so I guess that level of play is probably fi—huh?

When I checked the spire's position, it had been gone for ages. The soil was somehow flat again, and only the crowned pebble sat there, abandoned and forlorn.

―Wha—? You got rid of it just now? I didn't mean you should watch my every move so closely. I'm just asking you two to understand each other and get along.

Apparently my nagging had really been too much.

The water drop girl panicked. She pointed at herself and at the spire, then crossed both arms into a giant X.

―You didn't get rid of it?

Then who did?

The water drop girl rebuilt the spire, set the pebble on top, and watched in silence.

For a while, nothing happened. Then, at some point, the spire sank down into the earth and was swallowed whole, flattening out in an instant. Only the crowned pebble remained, sitting alone.

―Don't tell me the culprit is...

The pebble was pointed at, quick as a flash.

I thought so too.

―Just like you're good at controlling water, it seems your little brother is good with earth.

Being a pebble, perhaps heights simply weren't to his taste.

―It's a relief, at least, that even if he can't move, he can express his opinion...

I stopped mid-sentence as something occurred to me.

He can express his opinions.

Then have we been being ignored this whole time?

Whoaaaa?

It seemed the new family member had a mind entirely of his own.

My roots pushed onward through the underground.

Soil was displaced, and a path was carved. Since the region was nothing but dirt, progress was fast.

But I had long since acquired the hard-won wisdom to worry rather than celebrate.

Isn't this area all loose soil? If I keep getting heavier, it'll compress and the ground will sink.

Like driving rebar into weak ground, I wedged columns of mana between the soil particles.

It would hold for now, but it was nothing more than a stopgap, and it didn't sit well with me.

Instead of patching up these weak zones one at a time as needed, it'd be much better to overhaul my entire root network with a unified construction project and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠make the whole thing solid.

Someday I'd have to bite the bullet and do a full-scale earthworks project all at once. Honestly, if I actually tried, I felt my mana reserves would fall quite short.

My roots reached the edge of my perception range.

Yoo-hoo. Either way, I'd expanded it all.

Having finished my labor, it was time for me to reward myself with a little rest.

And nothing beat touring my territory for relaxation.

I peeked into the chief's house. These days, my second-greatest interest after the pebble spirit was the chief's study.

I studied the books resting neatly on the shelf. Each page registered in my awareness, and the lines of text were read out to me. Losing myself in reading like this built up my vocabulary and filled my store of general knowledge. Reading is food for the soul, after all. And as a tree, reading books on tree care was an irony I genuinely savored.

Of course, I wasn't the only one looking at books.

"How is your condition?"

Village Chief Eldrin asked. Across from him sat an elf with a pale complexion.

"I'm feeling quite good, actually."

Good, is it? Your complexion really doesn't look good at all.

"It's a shame I can't have meat or soup, but I liked salad to begin with anyway. And that twisted, sluggish feeling in my body feels like it's cleared right out—it's quite livable now."

"Dried meat jerky counts as raw food, so you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠may have it. It isn't a cooked dish, after all."

The patient grimaced.

"I'm going to be force-fed jerky all winter long anyway, so I'd rather not start eating it already."

Eldrin wore a faint smile. The conversation was being calmly recorded.

"Seeing you take the future for granted, you really must be doing well."

"Oh? You're right. I don't feel like I'll die making it through this winter."

"Very good. You may go. Send in the next one."

The patient was on his way out when he leaned in and whispered.

"I saw the next guy secretly grilling meat, and he was even offering some around. Please give him a talking-to."

A short while later, the next elf came in, scowling.

"I went to all the trouble of skipping meat, and there's barely any effect to show for it. This is just a waste of time—let's quit this nonsense already."

"Oh dear."

The elf grumbled on.

"It's not like you're telling us to eat less, but you're prescribing this extreme remedy of total abstinence to people who are already in bad shape? Who on earth lives on raw greens and fruit alone, without even vegetable soup? This is unrealistic. Just give it up already, and we'll all simply die."

"Oh dear."

Eldrin pressed a hand to his forehead.

Being chief sure seems like a thankless job.

Still, the dietary reform was proving effective beyond doubt. Once word of the physical improvements spread by mouth, it swept through the village like a trend, and the number of people consulting the chief kept growing. There were those who couldn't quite give up grilled meat, but they too would gradually come to accept reality.

That said, with midwinter nearly upon us, forbidding soup did seem a bit cruel.

More than giving up meat, abstaining from soup in the dead of winter would be the real challenge.

Everyone was following it easily now while it was still fashionable, but wouldn't one cold snap throw the whole thing into disarray? There are plenty of people in this world who collapse after eating foods the doctor forbade the moment they start feeling better.

―Is it actually easy to get through midwinter without eating soup?

I asked Thermia, who had come by for the first time in a while while busying herself helping the chief.

"You're right, it is a burden for me too. Is there some alternative, I wonder?"

―You're fine. I overhauled your system with mana stones, so you're in healthy enough shape to endure an occasional bowl.

"Really? Thank you so much! You truly are Lord Tree!"

Thermia's face brightened. Then she folded her arms, deliberated hard, and put on a solemn expression.

"I believe the sick shouldn't throw tantrums about it. Everyone should just endure until spring. When it's cold, you can warm yourself by the fire, can't you?"

―Wha—? You can dismiss it that easily just because it isn't your problem?

The girl giggled—hihi.

"Anyway."

The topic took a subtle turn.

"Did you succeed in granting intelligence to nature?"

Thermia looked around warily.

―Yes. It's right there at your feet.

"Where?"

―See that pebble wearing the grass crown?

"Wow! It's adorable! What is this?"

Thermia picked up the crowned pebble.

"Is this it?"

―Yes.

She turned it over, examining it, and her expression gradually shifted to something ambiguous. The girl's head tilted.

"It's extremely cute. It's extremely clean and round, certainly. It's so cute and so perfectly round that I've never seen a pebble like this in my entire life."

Her brows drew together.

"But isn't it just... a pebble? If we're being generous, a mysterious pebble?"

I should argue back, but it's awfully hard to.

―Just as the world contains a mysterious, ordinary back-mountain sapling, surely it can contain a mysterious pebble too.

"Starting with the words 'mysterious, ordinary back-mountain sapling' is already a bit much, don't you think?"

The pebble rolled off on its own. It escaped her palm and dropped to the ground with a soft tap. The grass crown that came down with it fluttered in the air before settling squarely onto its head.

The Grass Crown Pebble basked in the touch of stable ground.

Whoa, it knows how to move. Impressive.

"You really did grant intelligence to nature!"

The girl's cheeks flushed pink. She crouched down and stroked the pebble gently.

"Want to be friends with me?"

No response came.

"I think he might be shy?"

―Maybe. Although since he doesn't even run away while you're petting him, I suspect he isn't shy at all.

Thermia straightened the rumpled grass crown and stood up.

"You see, over that slave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trader illegally abducting humans, we sent a pigeon to the Lord's Castle. It cost a fortune, mind you. We never learned the victims' identities because they kept them hidden to the very end, but apparently one of the abducted humans was the child of a noble family."

No wonder everyone hates slave traders. They have no fear. Or maybe it was just mutual bad luck.

"So a mage will be visiting the Lord's Castle as an escort. Lord Tree, have you ever seen a mage? I never have."

Thermia grew grave.

"At this rate, won't an enraged mage burn our village to ashes? 'Your diet consists only of jerky and grass—all of you must die.' No, wait. 'Your diet consists only of jerky, fruit, and grass—all of you must die.'"

Mages must not have a good reputation.

―I'm sure the chief will handle it.

And handle it he did, without any effort at all.

The human mage, who arrived in the blink of an eye, observed every basic courtesy.

"It's nothing fancy, but I've prepared a table where you might dine in comfort."

Chief Eldrin led him to a table set with painstaking care—a table to which every elf skilled in cooking had been drafted.

The old mage took his seat and smiled.

"Nothing fancy, you say? I know full well how difficult it is to prepare even this much out here in the backwoods. You've worked hard. Please convey my thanks to those who prepared it, in place of my saying it to them myself."

Thermia's worries seem to have been misplaced.

Having never seen a mage before, she'd probably feared the sheer mystique of the unknown itself.

"Though the one rescued is a child of a humble house, you have done a most commendable deed."

"Not at all. I merely did what needed doing."

"And how many souls in this world manage to do what needs doing, when it needs doing?"

The old man smiled and sipped his herb tea.

"Given my years, I'll be staying a few days, but I shall depart soon enough, so fret not. I'll see to my own meals as well."

The conversation concluded neatly, without a hint of conflict.

Peaceful, with nothing amiss. That was a good thing.

But when night fell, my impressions shifted somewhat.

The old mage prowled through the forest in the dead of night. You could hardly call his behavior a sleepless stroll—it was far too suspicious. He picked up perfectly ordinary boulders to inspect their undersides before setting them back, poked around beneath trees to study their roots, and even scooped up rotting fallen leaves to sniff them and hold them up to the moonlight.

Is this what mages are normally like? I can't tell whether he's peculiar or this is standard practice.

Suddenly, the mage's eyes caught on something unusual.

"So it wasn't mere ravings after all. How plausible this is."

What is?

The mage moved his arm. His robe billowed.

"Come forth."

A snake emerged from within the robe, its tongue flicking in the air.

The mage reached into his pouch.

A mana stone was drawn out.

"Search for something similar. If you find it, it will be a great boon to my lord."

The snake licked the mana stone.

It smacked its lips, then vanished beyond the undergrowth.

"A strategic resource whose existence no one knows of."

The old mage gazed up at the moon, then turned back the way he came.

Whoaaaa?

He really is an investigator.