Village Back-Mountain Sapling (3)
If you peer into the dew clinging to a leaf, the sky glimmers back at you.
It wasn't a sky of unbroken blue. Soft, puffy white clouds drifted past, each showing off its own peculiar shape.
—Ooh, that one looks like a pigeon cloud!
The Water Drop Girl studied the sky. Spotted one, apparently—she giggled and pointed with her finger. I can't see the sky myself, not enough range for that, but judging by the angle she found it pretty well.
Lv.2
My Divinity had gone up, but nothing about my daily life changed. I can pour out my divine will a bit more strongly now, but beyond that I have no idea what else it does. A good thing is a good thing, I suppose.
Looking out over the forest, I spotted Thermia trudging toward me with her mana shovel in hand. She'd stopped by to pay her respects alongside every new settler, so this visit must be about something else.
"Hello! And hello to you too, Water Drop!"
—Hi there.
Thermia poked around at the snowdrifts nearby.
"You know how every settler I've brought to greet you has had to wash up first, every single time?"
—Well, that's the protocol, yes?
"You probably didn't notice, Lord Tree, but a few times they didn't wash properly before the greeting and we had to push the date back."
—That does sound like a hassle.
"So I was thinking of making a small lake nearby for quick wash-ups. Once someone's stood before you, they can't exactly muster the audacity to ask why they need to bathe—but expecting that much courtesy from every newcomer might be asking a lot."
Thermia prodded the snowdrifts one by one with the mana shovel. Suddenly, a metallic clank rang out and the shovel jolted against something.
"There you are!"
Thermia snickered and swept the shovel through the snow. The drift cleared away, revealing the soundly sleeping Pebble Girl. Her crown of grass leaves was still as fresh and green as ever.
"You're hiding from me just because I visit that often?"
Pebble Girl raised a hand, clutching a rock. Her sleepy, freshly-woken face twisted into an expression of pure exasperation.
She reacts like this every time, and yet Thermia just keeps coming. Honestly, impressive.
Still, seeing as Pebble Girl never actually goes so far as to resist, maybe—despite all the scowling—she doesn't entirely mind the company.
Pebble Girl went limp in Thermia's palm like a bundle of laundry. Her whole face said: everything is a bother, and why am I hanging here, and so on and so forth.
Or maybe not? Maybe she's just given up entirely...?
"Come on, Water Drop, let's go! We'll be back!"
—Mm-hm.
Thermia glanced back along the path she'd come, then started digging into the ground. It was the practiced motion of someone who'd once hunted wolves with a shovel.
"Now that I've been handed real responsibilities, I'm realizing how little I actually know. I did a background investigation on some settlers recently, with an elf who studied in the city, you see?"
The two spirits settled onto a rock to watch.
"But this elf kept talking like the things I didn't know were just common sense, so I asked about them. And she explained everything with this smug little look, like she'd expected me not to know?"
Her lips pursed into a pout.
"It was so frustrating—like she thought I was an idiot. Anyway, I need to study. I've only been reading the books my parents left behind, and they're mostly about hunting, so my knowledge has these big holes in it."
Her eyes burned with scholarly zeal.
Ooh, that's a great mindset.
She sits in on the village elders' meetings too, so it feels like the village is actively backing her. If she builds a solid foundation now, it'll pay off enormously later.
"So, here's the thing."
Thermia cast a sly glance at the Water Drop Girl. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Want to go rob our village chief's study?"
Wha—what?
"He's only ever let me read the tree-care manuals, but if I borrow something else and put it back, no one would ever know."
Um, excuse me? Shouldn't that be the kind of proposal you don't make to a friend?
Water Drop squealed with delight, her head bobbing up and down at top speed.
"Then let's finish this first and go steal some books!"
They're close, in the worst possible way.
Thermia shoveled a thin layer of soil to mark out the lake's footprint, then turned to Pebble Girl.
Pebble Girl gave a lazy half-wave. A pit gouged itself open, and stone lined the bottom.
Water Drop, watching, stretched out both hands like it was her turn now.
But Pebble Girl was faster, sweeping her hand onward. Groundwater burst up from the earth—hot spring water, brimming with warmth.
"Whoa!"
Thermia gasped, cheeks flushing as she chattered on excitedly.
"I was only thinking a lake! You made it a hot spring, with the pre-visit bath in mind! Thank you so, so much!"
She threw her arms around Pebble Girl in a mighty hug. Pebble Girl shoved her off, thoroughly annoyed.
Water Drop, hands still raised in the air, quietly lowered them. She smiled along with the moment, clapped her hands politely, and went back to sitting on her rock.
My gaze lingered on the two of them—Thermia chattering away, Pebble Girl radiating inconvenience.
How should I put this.
Water Drop is doing her best to hide it, but she seems to have some complicated feelings about her little sister. Jealousy, you might say. Her brilliant younger sibling keeps stealing her friends.
It can't be helped, really. For humans trying to live their lives, solids are simply more useful than liquids.
Since she's hiding it herself, prying it out of her would be too cruel. All I can do is wait and cheer her heart on as it grows.
"All done! Now let's go steal the books!"
Oh, would it kill you to announce that with a little less pep?
Having sent Pebble Girl home, the two of them headed for the chief's house. They peeked in the windows, then snuck into the study.
I mean, I'm pretty sure the chief just told her to go find whatever she liked in there and read it. She'd probably face zero consequences even if Eldrin caught her mid-heist from the next room over.
"Thanks to your help, the backlog of settler interviews finished right on schedule."
"There was hardly a literate man in that mud-walled hovel, so I merely did what was needed. Good timing, too. Without a capable man such as myself, it would have been utter chaos."
The male elf was singing his own praises.
He's a bit arrogant, sure, but personally I'm grateful to him.
When one word from me had everyone dropping to their knees in that mortifying scene, he was the one who broke the tension by asking a question all on his own.
And it was the classic question, too: and who might you be? It let me introduce myself smoothly. Granted, when I answered, he also knelt, which left me with complicated feelings—but regardless, he was a great help.
The male elf glanced down at his cup.
Only dried tea leaves bobbed listlessly in cold, unboiled water.
"Chief, do you truly believe this raw diet will work? The absurd notion that changing what we eat could keep us from dying young?"
Chief Eldrin looked into his own cup, watched the floating leaves for a moment, and downed it in one go. The empty cup touched the table.
"We don't ask questions. We practice."
The male elf kept staring at his leaf-flecked swill.
"And the results?"
A faint smile crossed Eldrin's face.
"You've been at it a few days now. How does the body feel?"
"...Lighter in the gut, I suppose."
"Everyone says the same."
The male elf gave an awkward laugh, then drained his tea and set the cup down hard.
"I'll be staying in this village for a while."
Their eyes met.
"I've no use for fools spouting nonsense where I'm lodging, so I'll be teaching the villagers their letters. I don't expect anyone to join me—but don't you dare get in my way."
Eldrin considered this for a moment.
"If that is your wish, I'll raise it at the village council. There are empty houses; if you'd like, the village will support you."
"...Are you actually being reasonable?"
"Where is it written that we must refuse the service of a learned man?"
The male elf averted his eyes, seemingly embarrassed, then rose quietly from his seat.
"Take it however you like. I'm a busy man—I'll be off."
"Mm."
Well now—everyone's about to get busy with their studies over a work-free winter. That's a healthy development.
Though the girl with the highest scholarly zeal of them all is currently fleeing the scene of a successful book heist, absolutely giddy.
The girl's cheeks burned red as she sprinted with her armful of loot.
"That was so tense and so FUN! Let's do it again!"
Water Drop giggled in passionate agreement.
The future of this village is dark indeed...
The depths of winter had passed.
The snow melted, and saplings pushed up through the forest floor.
The weather was still too cold to call it spring, but wintering was over.
Lv.7
Exp: 0 / 7,000,000
Influence Radius:39,450cm → 45,850cm
Yoo-hoo, my soul has grown.
I hadn't particularly thought about it before, but maybe the strength of the divine will I radiate owes itself to this soul's growth. Divinity is one thing, but I get the feeling this is the real root of it?
I swept my gaze across my widened field of view.
Behind the chief's house, a few more dwellings had come into sight.
Hee-hee. It's only the very edge of things, but I can see the village now.
Inside one of those houses was a presence I knew very, very well.
"Surely the Lord Tree wouldn't be mad at me... would he?"
Thermia, dressed in a light set of indoor clothes, said this while stitching up a garment with a hole in it.
Hm? Mad about what?
"Hard to say."
Velesa worked her loom, weaving cloth.
"I doubt the Lord Tree would be angry. But I doubt he'd be pleased, either."
Mad about what?
Thermia hurried to defend herself.
"But it was an important event for reducing illiteracy in the village! We were holding a writing contest, and the only subject that both natives and settlers could relate to and join in on was the Lord Tree."
Ah, I see. So the village's literacy push over the quiet winter actually produced results. Apparently I got chosen as the writing prompt.
There's not a shred of anger in me over that. It was for the sake of village harmony, after all. Picking a subject the settlers couldn't relate to would've been the far bigger problem.
Velesa, however, seemed unable to fully agree. She shot the girl a wry sidelong look.
"That said, singling out just how beautiful and magnificent the Sacred Tree is as your exact topic was a bit self-serving, wasn't it? Nobody objected, but I suspect everyone was laughing on the inside."
Wh—what? WHAT?
Thermia flinched.
"N-no, that was—I felt like I'd been losing all sense of objectivity lately, so I wanted to gather other people's impressions, that's all..."
Velesa said nothing, just smirked.
Thermia seemed to feel that the more she explained, the worse she sounded, so she huffed and buried herself in her needlework in stubborn silence.
That was a remarkably level-headed concern, honestly.
Being clever can be a curse. There's nothing wrong with an orphaned girl leaning on the people around her for guidance.
Finished with her mending, Thermia washed up and changed clothes.
I had wondered where she was living—it turned out she'd been staying at Velesa's place. Makes sense; an unmarried older sister figure you know well is exactly the right person to bunk with.
Thermia crossed the forest and came to where I stood.
"Here I am!"
—Welcome.
The girl sat down on a rock.
"The weather's finally easing up. It's nice. Still cold, though."
—In a little while, I think we can take the insulating coverings off.
Thermia nodded briskly.
Her gaze wandered over the grass where the snow had melted.
"The village held a writing contest this time, with nature scenery as the theme."
I am nature scenery, technically.
The girl's face itched with the urge to brag.
"I entered too. Guess what place I got?"
Hmm, what place indeed.
—Ninth?
"Why ninth, of all places?"
—Because the pigeon went coo-coo-coo?
The girl burst out laughing. "Ahaha!"
"Way, way higher than that."
Her index finger shot up.
"First place! I won the writing contest!"
What—what?
So you're telling me you took first place in a writing contest about how beautiful and magnificent the Lord Tree is?
I seeee. I syyyy that.
Thermia puffed up with pride.
"Coming out here all the time and soaking in the natural scenery at my leisure was my winning strategy. You could say I wrote down details nobody else even knew about."
She is the person who's studied me the most closely, to be fair.
Thermia launched into a long victory speech, then suddenly stopped short.
"Oh—but that's not actually what I came to talk about. Have you ever seen any trees nearby that would work for making a bow?"
—A bow?
"The weather's warming up, and the chief says he wants to recruit more village watchmen now that our numbers keep growing. There's a trial, and you have to bring your own bow."
Thermia glanced around at the surrounding trees.
"When I fought before, I used my mother's keepsake. But if it breaks, that's a loss, and besides, I need to learn to make and use my own anyway."
A tree good for bow-making, hm.
No idea, honestly.
—Does a high-quality bow help with the watchmen's trial?
"Of course! Crafting your own bow well is a skill in itself."
—Then shall I snap off one of my branches for you?
"...What?"
Thermia looked startled.
—One of my branches.
I don't know how one gets worked into a proper bow, but surely a springy, supple branch would be plenty serviceable.
—Wait just a moment.
I gathered nutrients into a single branch.
Unlike anything I'd done before, I poured every scrap of focus into crafting a branch that would satisfy. My mind sank deep, deep down, absorbed entirely in the work.
Divine will gathered, and the wind began to blow. Leaves swayed and sang; branches rocked and danced.
If a branch is broken and shaped, humans call it a bow.
But that is only human presumption.
Change the form, alter the appearance, reshape the whole—still, a branch is nothing more than a branch. The very same branch returns to the soil, is washed by the rain, flows to the sea, and becomes cloud once more.
And so, with nature's gracious permission, one may as well call a branch a bow. For branch and bow are one and the same.
Divine will carved the path, and Divinity worked its mystery.
A gust swept through, and light gathered upon the branch.
The branch began to grow of its own accord, taking the shape of a bow. A thick limb curved itself into the bow's stave; slender tendrils rippled into a bowstring. Leaves unfurled, drinking in the wind.
The light stilled, and a branch in the form of a bow stood bathed in sunlight.
My lost-in-trance mind slowly woke.
Huh?
A living wooden bow had grown right there on the branch.
What—WHAT?
I got so absorbed that, well, since I was making something anyway, I just went ahead and made the whole bow.
It wasn't the plan, but a good thing is a good thing.
—So, anyway, I made it.
I presented the bow, still attached to its branch.
A gentle breeze stirred, cradling it like an embrace.
The girl stared, mouth hanging open without a word.
