Village Back-Mountain Sapling (1)
All the autumn leaves had fallen.
The forest bared its bare branches.
But that didn't mean it looked desolate.
When the snow came, the clouds descended and perched on the branches. They weren't green leaves or tinted foliage, but snow blossoms bloomed across the forest all the same.
What a truly beautiful sight. Though I suppose there's no helping the hint of chill in the air. Not loneliness—more like the weight of snow piled on my branches, maybe.
I shook my branches. Evergreen leaves that stayed green even in winter shook loose, and clumps of snow tumbled down.
Below, the Pebble Girl, who had been sleeping leaned against my roots, was buried in the snow.
—Waaah? Sorry, are you okay?
I waited, but no answer came.
When I peered into the snowbank, the Pebble Girl was simply continuing her sleep.
She's a rock, so does it really matter? If anything, from a stone's point of view, being covered in snow means the cold wind can't get to her—isn't it actually warmer that way?
But apparently it wasn't entirely without impact.
A small hand stirred and gave a light tap to the grass-leaf crown on her head. The wilting crown of leaves regained its vitality, as fresh and green as if it had just been made.
And then the girl went back to sleep.
So she does prefer the quiet after all. I'll respect her taste and leave her alone.
I turned my gaze elsewhere.
There stood the Water Drop Girl on a rock—or to be precise, frozen stiff solid in a bizarre pose with both arms and both legs spread wide.
To anyone who didn't know better, she was simply an ice statue.
It perplexed me every time I saw it, but there was nothing actually wrong with her. Talk to her and she'd turn back into perfectly fine water and glance around.
Apparently mimicking an ice statue is fun for her. It is a rare pastime only available in winter, I suppose.
Three intelligent beings, and not a single word of conversation passed—a peaceful stretch of time flowed by.
But not everywhere was peaceful.
"Isn't this a bit excessive? Sending over a hundred people in such a short span of time—what are we supposed to do with them all?"
"Reinforcing the village's numbers for bandit suppression after the winter, you say? Not a bad arrangement. They're providing food as well? Fine. It's flour, so it's a struggle to eat it raw, but they didn't know that, so I understand the sentiment. My question is, why are they sending so many?"
"Exactly! And of all things, flour—half of it isn't even proper food anymore! It's like they're telling us to starve to death or die of sickness!"
The chief's house was bustling with people. It wasn't a village meeting—it was a gathering of elders, only the authoritative and important figures of the village.
"The village has barely a hundred people as it is! If they send another hundred, how are we supposed to manage... Do you have something to say?"
The elf who had been raising her voice in anger turned around.
In the corner seat, Thermia had her hand thrust up in the air. Though she seemed bewildered as to why she was sitting here in the first place, tense and on edge, she apparently wanted her say regardless.
As every eye turned to her, the girl steeled herself and spoke.
"On my way to settle in this village, I heard a number of things. I was told that the local lord intends to raise a rebellion when the time is ripe. When that happens, public order will deteriorate and the rear regions could fall into chaos—so I imagine the lord is selecting certain villages to shore up stability in advance."
Her gesture pointed toward Eldrin, who sat with his eyes closed and arms crossed.
"The village chief, after all, once made his name as a mercenary. It was his reputation that drew me to this village in the first place."
As she spoke, her nerves seemed to loosen, and Thermia continued in a calmer voice.
"Elves wandering the roads are highly likely to turn to banditry, so gathering them into the elf village ahead of time and using them to manage order instead—that could well be the plan."
Suddenly, the chief opened his eyes and clapped slowly.
"That's my read on it as well. Everyone, calm down and think rationally. What's the situation in the storehouses?"
"By our estimates, we'll have to eat the flour to make it through the winter. But we tried eating it raw all day yesterday, and it's simply not fit to eat."
"You actually ate it raw?"
"We mixed it into water too, but as a daily meal... haha."
Someone slammed their palm down on the table.
"Chief! We all know you intend to push the raw diet for the whole village. But how are we supposed to get through winter on nothing but flour stirred into cold water? At the very least we need to be drinking hot soup."
"That's right! If we have to eat, we should at least be roasting meat too. I've felt no real difference from the raw diet myself, frankly."
So it really is hard to skip soup in winter.
Thermia, with ash dumped all over her finished meal of an argument, looked on the verge of tears. She worked hard to keep her expression composed, but it showed through completely.
Eldrin deliberated, then spoke.
"Those who wish to hasten their own death may go ahead and do so. That much we shall leave to their freedom. But at the village level, let us gather as much food as we can."
The elders' meeting came to a close.
Once everyone had left, only a deflated Thermia remained in the yard, slumped over. She stayed like that for a while, then trudged off in my direction, leaving snow footprints along the forest path.
"I'm ba—waaah! What the—why are you frozen?!"
Thermia startled badly at the sight of the Water Drop Girl's statue.
A flicker of mischief passed through the Water Drop Girl for a moment.
Then, apparently deciding that pranks weren't something you played on a friend who'd lost her parents, she promptly turned back into water. The Water Drop Girl waved her small hands and giggled.
"Oh, what the heck, that scared me. So she freezes if she gets too cold, huh."
Thermia clutched her chest in relief.
—Water freezes and melts, boils and cools. It's the natural way of things.
Reassured, the girl recounted what had happened at the elders' meeting.
"...So the dietary reform probably won't get anywhere. There's no way people can hold out on flour alone. And even if the village starts stockpiling food now, hunting in a winter forest has its clear limits."
The girl grew gloomy.
—This time the deadline was just too tight. If we do better starting next year, won't that be enough?
"You're right. Distribute the dried meat mainly to those in poor health, and restart everything else from next year—that's the sensible path."
Wah? The words come pouring right out of her, don't they.
"The chief never said it outright, but he must have thought this far before deciding the village would gather food together. If the results fall short of expectations, most everyone will be run down from eating poorly, yet the reason and justification to funnel dried meat to a select few in danger will already exist in people's minds. If he'd simply said 'hand it over now,' the outcome would have been the same, but the mood in the village would have turned far worse."
She worked all of that out on her way over here?
"I just... I just feel bad, that's all."
Thermia lowered her head.
"I'm sorry for whining."
Her voice was drained of spirit.
"I know it takes time. I know it won't be solved overnight. But..."
Her fists clenched tight.
Her mother's death, unable to become the past, flowed on into the present.
When winter passes and spring comes, we can start again. But what happens when spring arrives and some other reason crops up? What will she say then?
The seasons show her no spring, and the future sits locked in a long, dark cave. Unable to escape, the girl has no choice but to believe that one day a light will appear.
If you insist on calling that impatient, restless urgency "whining," then perhaps it is whining.
The girl seemed about to say something, then closed her mouth.
"Sorry. I should go. This isn't the time for moping—I need to go hunt at least one more animal."
Her snow footprints were pressed down a second time.
You know, I happen to think people are allowed to whine.
Her steps stopped.
Nature is not so hasty as to show change over the span of ages in which even mountains and rivers hold their shape. And yet nature allowed a part of itself to be born with such an impatient, hurried temperament—doesn't nature bear some responsibility for that?
The girl turned back.
So I think a little whining is permitted. Who knows—nature may feel its responsibility and answer.
Suddenly, a snowbank heaved.
The Pebble Girl rose groggily from beneath the snow. She gave Thermia an annoyed look, then glanced sideways at the day's companion who kept sending her divine power.
The Pebble Girl heaved a resigned sigh. A small hand plucked a single leaf from her grass-leaf crown, and the leaf was tossed into the snowy field.
Some will call nature's answer a coincidence.
The snowy field rippled. Something that would one day happen arrived ahead of schedule. The snow melted, and seeds awakened. Sprouts broke through and formed stems, stems became flowers.
The Yellow Flower Field burst into full bloom.
And some will call it a miracle. But me—
The scent of flowers rode the wind. The girl's golden hair streamed in the breeze.
—This is what I want to say.
The flower field withered, and fruit formed.
—This world truly is beautiful, after all.
The girl gazed at the scene, dazed.
—Isn't it?
In place of an answer, tears fell.
The sound of crying rang out.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Water Drop Girl glared down at the ground at her feet.
Then she stretched out both hands and poured her energy into the soil. The earth grew moist. It soaked and soaked, and a single sprout popped up.
The Water Drop Girl's face brightened instantly.
Soon after, she reached both hands toward the sprout with a grave expression. Scowling furiously, twisting her whole body, she channeled power into the little plant.
The sprout trembled and shook.
Before long it grew, bloomed into a flower, and bore fruit.
Wiping her brow, the Water Drop Girl clapped her hands in delight. She picked the fruit, then turned to her friend with a bright face.
Thermia, her cheeks flushed pink, was half-swimming her way through the field of fruit, wandering about.
The Water Drop Girl watched the bountiful field of fruit for a while. Then she looked back and forth between it and the single fruit in her own hand. The fruit wiggled about playfully in her palm.
What's the matter?
The Water Drop Girl flinched, arranged her face into a smile, and shook her head as if to say it was nothing. The fruit was tucked away beneath a leaf, hidden as if in shame.
"I ran the numbers, and as shameless as it feels, I'm going to have to ask the Pebble Girl a few more times. She's already asleep, mind you."
She's not fond of conversation, so it's just a matter of spacing out your requests over time. Difficult, but doable.
"I'll try to get close to her."
Thermia fell deep into thought.
"If food gets solved this easily, we'll end up with a problem the chief never prepared for."
Such as?
Thermia glanced sideways at me. She deliberated, checked my reaction, then came closer and stood up straight.
"Ahem. Lord Tree."
The girl lifted her chin and declared with full confidence.
"If you're already helping, then help some more!"
Waaah?
"You won't have to bother again later, and I come out ahead as is."
Then she slipped in a sly addition.
"Though I come out ahead more!"
The girl snickered.
She's right, though. You do come out ahead.
I chuckled for a moment, then asked:
—What is it you want?
The girl spoke seriously, setting her playfulness aside.
"Around a hundred people have arrived so far, and more are being sent even now—the numbers will only keep growing. Which means more newcomers will start challenging the village's authority, too."
A serious matter had emerged.
"The chief made his name as a mercenary, but there hasn't been enough time for his wisdom to earn the same recognition. Think about it—if a retired mercenary suddenly demands that everyone eat their food raw, who's going to listen? He's telling people to skip soup in this freezing winter."
She has a point.
"But we can't give the newcomers special treatment either. If they fail to assimilate and form their own faction, the conflict will only grow. Do we really want to split the village in two down the line?"
No, we don't.
"Ideally, a village leadership splits into a wisdom side and a strength side—that makes everything run more smoothly. Since that split doesn't exist here, an extra assimilation process is needed instead."
Huh. She's actually convincing.
"And that is why."
Thermia pointed straight at me with both hands.
"I'd like you to play the role of a Sacred Tree. As the spiritual pillar of the village."
—The role of a Sacred Tree...? What on earth is that?
"I know perfectly well that you pride yourself on being just a Village Back-Mountain Sapling. I could certainly keep introducing you as nothing more than a mysterious sapling on the back hill."
She continued.
"But sometimes a lie is necessary, isn't it? When a newcomer argues back about why they have to eat raw, we can just say that the Sacred Tree of our village has so commanded it—and suddenly we barely need to persuade anyone at all."
Hmm, I see...
"The elves arriving here are all coming on the lord's orders, right? Which means privately, they'll be wondering why this village of all places. And in that moment—"
Thermia pointed at me again.
"—you tell them: the great powers' designs are beyond us, but surely the lord knew there was a Sacred Tree here and sent us anyway. And if that Sacred Tree commands us to eat raw, we'd best stop arguing and obey. How does that sound?"
That does seem far better than the chief simply strong-arming everyone into the raw diet.
"No elf who lays eyes on a Sacred Tree will refuse to accept it. And even if one did, he'd think to himself that the lord wouldn't have sent him here for nothing—so he'd better fall in line."
—So the idea is to quietly borrow the lord's authority.
"Exactly!"
Wah, that's a clever plan.
—So I just have to act the part of a Sacred Tree?
"You just need to be one! I'll handle all the arrangements, so come along!"
So it's a play. Fun.
It was a deception, true—but once the newcomers assimilated into the village, they'd learn the truth anyway, so it wasn't a bad deed.
—I'll do it. Is there anything I need to prepare?
"I'll take care of the preparations. You just have to follow me!"
After much talk and a visit to go see the Pebble Girl, the girl gathered up the fruits to serve as evidence and headed back to the village.
Once the chief came, inspected the fruit field, and paid me his lengthy greetings, the village meeting proceeded with remarkable speed. It didn't take long for a decision to be reached.
Thermia arrived with a female elf I didn't know.
"We've decided to gather the newcomers and present you to them. But leaving you in your natural state seems lacking for someone meant to be the heart of the village—it looks like you'll need some dressing up. So I brought along someone I know."
Her hand indicated the elf.
The elf bowed her head demurely in greeting.
"A pleasure to meet you. I've heard a great deal from Thermia. I do mostly sewing, though I also hunt from time to time—my name is Velesa. I wove some fabric for you as insulation. Was it comfortable enough to wear?"
Ah, so this is her.
—Thanks to it, I've been keeping warm.
Even in the depths of winter, thanks to the insulating cloth wrapped round and round my trunk, I felt only the faintest chill. Left on my own, I might well have suffered frost damage.
Thermia came closer and whispered.
"Velesa, in my opinion, makes the finest clothes in the world. And now someone like that is going to adorn your branches, Lord Tree."
Having heard everything, Velesa grew embarrassed.
"What is this child saying. It's not quite that much—I'm simply the best in the village. I'll take your measurements, so please hold still."
The dimensions of my trunk and branches were slowly confirmed.
"But there's something more important than this."
—Which is?
Thermia's gesture pointed straight at me.
"Your speech! The most important person here lacks dignity!"
Waaah?
"You're tree-like enough, I suppose, but right now you're just... a tree. Not a dignified one, anyway."
Am I not?
A sheet of paper was drawn from her pocket.
"I stayed up all night writing out a few lines for you. I'll read them, so please repeat after me."
Wah, she stayed up a whole night for this. Making me full theatrical lines on top of everything—my heart is fluttering.
Just how magnificent could these lines be?
Thermia cleared her throat loudly.
Her expression turned grave, and her gesture sliced through the air.
"O lowly creature that walks on two legs, how insignificant you are~."
Waaah?
"Now, now—repeat after me."
The girl's gesture swept through the air once more.
"O pitiful creature, how insignificant you are~."
Is... is that right...?
In my opinion, Thermia has no talent whatsoever for playwriting.