The Sapling on the Hill Behind the Village (4)

The arrow flew.

The plank the Water Drop Girl was holding took the hit and bounced away.

"Wow! This is the best bow I've ever used!"

Thermia chattered away, bubbling with excitement.

"Honestly, I haven't used that many bows, but this is the very, very first one with such a lovely feel, just the right weight, and a size and string tension that fit me perfectly! Is this custom-made?!"

The giddy girl turned the bow this way and that, inspecting it.

"And these leaves that grew on it like decoration! Every time I draw the string, they move on their own to balance the weight and adjust my aim! I'm telling you, I've never seen auto-aim before in my life!"

Whoa? It can do that? That's news to me too.

Thermia hopped up and fired off a casual shot. In that instant, the leaves twisted, shifting the bow's angle. The arrow flew and struck the target.

"See that?!"

The Water Drop Girl, who'd been watching, clapped her hands — clap clap clap.

"Sure, the broad strokes are still on me, but having the fine details adjusted even when I'm just winging it is huge! It means I can always shoot accurately, even when I'm confused or exhausted! Zero shooting errors! And I bet it can do this too!"

Thermia fired an arrow into the sky, then quickly drew and aimed upward again. The second arrow streaked up and knocked the falling one clean out of the air.

"Whoa! It really works!"

Whoaaa? What kind of trick shot is that? Pretty sure the bow isn't the problem here — you're just a good shot.

Words came pouring out in a rapid-fire torrent. For the moment, I stayed quiet and waited for Thermia to calm down.

That took longer than I expected. Like a girl who'd just gotten her hands on a brand-new favorite toy, she kept chattering nonstop.

It makes me happy that she likes it, truly. But Thermia, with her emotions gushing out and no way to rein in the momentum, was getting a bit much.

She'd grown more serious after living through her parents' death twice over — but I suspect this excitable side is who she really is. Knowing her story, I couldn't bring myself to stop her.

Thermia finally half-settled down.

"I have to try this out in the field. Bang-ul-i! Let's go hunting together!"

And so the blonde girl and the water droplet skipped off merrily on their hunt.

"A rabbit."

Prey turned up right away. A rabbit was nearby, sniffing at a freshly sprouted sapling.

It looked so peaceful, lost in reminiscence, that it made a perfect target for her bow.

Whoaaa?

Hold on. I don't think you should mess with that rabbit.

Before I could say a word, the arrow flew. The rabbit tilted its body sideways. The arrow grazed its fur and buried itself in the ground.

"Huh? It dodged...?"

The rabbit gave the sprout a little lick, then turned around.

It tensed its hind legs to leap — then caught sight of something and froze.

The Water Drop Girl perched on Thermia's shoulder stared hard at the rabbit. The rabbit's ears trembled violently.

It stood frozen stiff, thinking — then abruptly stuck out its tongue and played dead. The white body flopped over, sprawled on the ground.

"Huh?"

Thermia's eyes went round.

"I definitely didn't hit it? Did it faint from the shock?"

The Water Drop Girl giggled — kyaruruk — and pointed at the rabbit as if to say, let's pick it up, quick.

Thermia picked up the rabbit.

"Is it sick?"

She examined it from every angle. The rabbit lay utterly motionless, for all the world a corpse.

The Water Drop Girl joined the inspection, then crept toward the rabbit's hind legs. Her tiny hand tickled the foot.

The rabbit's ears twitched and shuddered. The water droplet pointed at this, giggling away — kyaruruk — as if to say, look at this.

"It really might be sick...?"

Thermia looked uneasy.

The rabbit was quietly set back down on the ground.

"Let's just leave this one. You shouldn't eat meat from a sick animal, or so I've heard."

The Water Drop Girl readily agreed.

The girl and the droplet moved on.

The rabbit, left all alone, lay there soul-drained for a good while — perhaps feeling a wound to its pride.

My condolences.

At any rate, Thermia succeeded in every hunt thereafter, taking down whatever prey crossed her path.

The girl was over the moon, insisting the bow was simply the best.

She's happy, so I'm happy too. Yippee.

My roots had grown.

In the meantime, Thermia had passed the village watch tryouts with flying colors and was busy training. Her archery was no problem, apparently, but she didn't know how to use a sword.

Fair enough — if an enemy closes the distance, you can't just keep shooting.

I hoped the village chief would teach her well. Turns out he was a mercenary who'd made a name for himself, so he'd probably be good at teaching practical swordplay.

But it seemed that as the village's forces grew, the mood outside its borders wasn't so rosy.

Out of nowhere, a self-proclaimed merchant showed up at the chief's house with an escort in tow.

"As I informed you beforehand, His Highness has collapsed and the territory's troops have marched on the capital, so the region is in an uproar. I cannot leave this area on business for the time being, so I intend to lie low here for a while. Make the arrangements."

Why "self-proclaimed" merchant, you ask? Because he had a whole collection of family crests tucked into his breast pocket. His escorts, too, were genuine knights carrying proper identification badges.

The way he treated everyone like underlings, and well — he was just a young human nobleman.

So the lord had rebelled in the end, it seemed. A noble on the run, maybe? Though I wasn't so sure. Beyond that, I couldn't tell.

If only I could understand exactly which family each crest in that pocket belonged to.

I remembered there was a book cataloguing the noble houses in the chief's study. I'd check it later.

"We've prepared an empty house for you. Please make use of it. We've also told everyone to keep their distance."

"Mm! Quick on the uptake, aren't you."

The male noble was assigned the house next to the chief's.

After looking the place over, he sank into the sofa like a man finally letting his guard down.

"Whew! Now that I'm here, I feel at ease. No father, no mother."

The escort knight, who had bolted the door, came over.

"Your Highness, this is hardly the time to be pleased. Her Majesty has departed with our lord as well — to be left all alone like this..."

"Now, now — 'Your Highness'!"

The noble scowled.

"I only become a prince once my father wins and takes the throne. What's this about me already being one? Don't presume."

Whoaaa? He's a prince?

The noble rubbed his chin, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thinking, then broke into a grin.

"But it does sound nice, so keep at it. Not 'Your Highness' — call me the Crown Prince, Your Highness the Crown Prince. I permit it."

Whoaaa? Is he a prince-o-holic?

The escort knight sighed.

"As you command, Your Highness the Crown Prince. But again — this is hardly the time to be pleased. You've skipped your sword training, neglected your lessons in statecraft, and spent all your time chasing women. Think how disappointed His Majesty must be."

The Crown Prince turned his head and picked at his ear. When a bit of earwax came out, he flicked it away with a puff.

"You should have quit when my betrothal fell through. Just because I have no siblings, living this irresponsibly—"

"Tsk! That's enough. Do you think I count you as a friend? Talk like that doesn't sit well with those around you. We may be alone now, but if it becomes habit and you let something slip — what then?"

"Haah. My apologies. I spoke out of turn."

"No, it's fine. Do you take me for someone who doesn't worry about you?"

The Crown Prince rose, slung an arm around the escort knight's shoulder, and led him to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the window to look outside together.

"Look there! This is the elf village everyone says is full of beauties, isn't it? We've come all this way, and you want to spend it on dreary talk? Oh! Now that elf is exactly my type. What does she do?"

"She's a seamstress. Again, this is hardly the time."

"...Shot down again."

The Crown Prince looked sulky.

The escort knight paid him no mind and his expression turned serious.

"At the very least, see fewer women. Swordsmanship? You can start now. Studies? Same. The kingdom's finest scholars will help you with all their hearts. So please."

A pleading look came his way.

"Stop seeing so many of them, and settle ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down with one woman — any woman."

"One? There are so many women in the world."

"Please, don't. Isn't there some woman who left a vivid impression on you? Not necessarily love — someone who lingers in your mind, again and again. Settle down with her."

The Crown Prince rifled through his memories.

"The daughter of House Somebody-or-other was decent in bed last time, I suppose? The rest weren't much."

"Your Highness! I am not joking!"

The escort knight launched into an impassioned plea.

"If you'd only build a household, you'd gain a sense of responsibility, and His Majesty could finally rest easy. Instead of leaving you alone in some backwater while he marches on the capital!"

"Responsibility? Father told me to focus on the greater cause and sorted out my women for me on his own. Isn't that enough?"

The escort knight's face went grave.

"Do you truly believe that?"

The Crown Prince said nothing at all.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside the house. The escorts were checking on a visitor.

"What's all the ruckus?"

"...The seamstress. Not that anything will happen, but if it comes to it, you'd need to change into villager's clothing and flee to be safe, so I had her called in advance."

"Good work."

The Crown Prince waved a hand.

"Enough of this talk. It's no fun for either of us."

"Haah."

The seamstress entered.

"I am called Velesa."

This is bad timing for a house call. I hope things go smoothly.

Despite my worries, nothing went wrong — at first.

Perhaps determined to sell his merchant disguise, the Crown Prince dropped the overbearing act and played the part of a merely eccentric rich man to perfection.

"All done. It will be finished within the week."

"Truly, all is complete?"

"Yes, that is so. Do you have any other requests?"

"There is one, but..."

The Crown Prince flashed a grin.

"I should like to speak with you privately."

Velesa blinked slowly.

Seizing the moment, the Crown Prince leaned over the table. His hand reached out and took the elf by the chin. His gaze swept over Velesa's face.

"A face very much to my taste. Is your income lacking? I'm not stingy with support for my own people."

Whoa?

Velesa opened her mouth to speak — then closed it. Her hand slowly peeled his away.

Her voice came out from between her red lips as if she were grinding the words through her teeth.

"One question. May I slap you?"

The Crown Prince looked baffled.

"You'd slap me?"

"No. I may slap you."

The Crown Prince smirked.

"Go ahead. Try it."

In an instant, a palm swung through the air. It struck his face with tremendous force. The Crown Prince practically flew, crashing into the sofa.

Whoa. She's strong.

So this is the strength of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a seamstress whose hobby is archery and hunting?

Velesa brushed off her hand.

"It seems there are no further requests, so I'll take my leave."

With that, she opened the door and departed with regal composure.

Silence fell.

The Crown Prince, his face frozen in a daze, clutched his cheek and stared after her retreating figure.

Then, belatedly grasping what had happened, he jabbed a finger at the door.

"Hey! Hey! Is that woman out of her mind?!"

Yippee, I'd call that getting what she deserved. Well — she did ask first before hitting him.

But evidently the one taking the slap didn't see it that way. The Crown Prince sprang up and dashed into the corridor, grabbing Velesa by the arm.

He glared at her, face twisted in fury.

"You are the first woman ever to strike me. I trust you're prepared for what comes next?"

Velesa let out an exasperated sigh.

"Haah."

She glared right back, then enunciated each word clearly.

"May I slap you again?"

The Crown Prince flinched. The cheek where the red mark lingered twitched.

Having waited for his answer, Velesa gave a contemptuous snort. She pulled her arm free and walked away without another word.

The Crown Prince stared blankly after her.

"What a lunatic..."

The escort knight slid over.

"Shall I teach her some manners?"

"Ha! Don't bother. I haven't even revealed my identity — what manners are owed? Don't make me petty. Call it being slapped by some crazy woman. Honestly, the world's full of lunatics who actually hit you when you tell them to."

The Crown Prince shuffled back to his room.

He sank onto the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling for a long while.

Gradually, his face flushed red and purple by turns.

"Thinking it over, I'm burning with indignation? I liked her face so much I was offering her a kindness — a bit of investment to expand her business — and the woman dares to slap me?"

Whoa? Seems it was surprisingly well-intentioned, actually.

His palm brushed his cheek. Then he touched the mark left there and shuddered.

"What a lunatic. This won't stand!"

The Crown Prince shot to his feet.

"I shall personally crush that woman's haughty pride!"

The escort knight slid over.

"Shall I teach her some manners?"

"Don't make me petty — just stay out of it."

"I only asked out of courtesy, sir."

"Yes, yes."

The Crown Prince paced the room, thinking.

Then he spotted the mirror, and something seemed to dawn on him — his expression brightened.

"That's it. Of course. A face like mine ought to do."

"What are you planning?"

The Crown Prince smiled crookedly.

"I'll seduce her with this face of mine, then reveal my identity as she's on her way home — and cast her aside."

"...Pardon?"

"Hahaha! Just imagining it is exhilarating!"

"...Pardon?"

Whoaaa?

Are you sure that slap didn't rattle something loose in there?