The Sapling I Tend (3)
The moment a single arrow cut down the mercenary captain, the mercenaries collapsed into chaos.
Their coordinated ambush dissolved into a panicky scramble for the treeline, and the arrows hunted them down as they ran.
Once the dust settled, they made camp for the evening. Thermia aimed at a tree.
She released the string, and the arrow flew true, punching straight through the trunk, bursting out the far side, and burying itself in the rock behind it.
The girl just hung there, mouth opening and closing.
"Why did that work...?"
Because I'd poured my will into it, that's why.
Then Thermia, who had been glancing around furtively, suddenly loosed another arrow at a tree. Thunk — it stuck in the bark and stayed there.
"Why didn't this one work...?"
Because I hadn't gotten my will ready in time. And please, kindly stop shooting at things without warning.
"Teacher, why does it work sometimes and not other times?"
"That's quite the question."
The elf teacher watching her folded his arms in contemplation. "I'm no expert in magic or theology, but I don't find it strange that an item bestowed by a divine being would operate beyond mortal common sense. What puzzles me is why it works only sometimes." He tilted his head. "Were you thinking about something else when you loosed it? From what I've heard from the priests, the divine only answers prayers offered with the utmost sincerity, devotion, and heart."
"Ah!"
Thermia lit up with a realization. "Now that you mention it, when I shot the mercenary, I was trusting in the bow the Tree gave me. And just now, it worked because I was remembering the moment She handed it to me."
Her gaze drifted back to the arrow buried in the tree. "But that last one, I fired just to test it on a whim. Maybe that was greedy, rude of me. My heart was the problem!"
No, it wasn't. It's just that I need a little time to prepare, okay?
The teacher looked intrigued. "Then try loosing an arrow with a silent prayer in your heart, the way a priest would."
"Wouldn't praying out loud be better?"
"This is your area of expertise, so do as you see fit. Though I suspect you're right."
"Yes, yes."
Thermia smoothed down a patch of grass, sweeping away the pebbles until she'd made a clean little spot. She laid the bow down, knelt before it, and sank deep into thought.
The wind threaded through her golden hair. The girl closed her eyes, and her lips began to move.
"O verdant Nature, supporter of the heavens, stepping-stone of the earth — as a part of You, I hold a part of You in my hands. Grant me Your miracle."
A faint thread of will flowed through the bow to me. It tickled, faintly and pleasantly.
Whoa? Whoaaa?
She's way better at this than I expected.
If she's this good, why on earth did she make me give her those cringe-worthy theatrical lines back then? Did I somehow develop terrible taste?
Thermia, her expression reverent, picked up the bow in both hands. Still kneeling, she took aim at a boulder and released. The arrow flew and punched clean through the rock.
Her face brightened. "I was right! Sincerity of heart is what matters!"
―Whooa? Is that how it works? Impressive.
"Hiyaaah!"
The girl leapt a foot in the air. Like a child caught red-handed, she whipped her head around in a panic, scanning her surroundings — then her eyes locked onto the bow.
"...I must have misheard that."
―You know full well that's not it.
"Then you DID just hear me?!"
―Yep.
Her face flushed scarlet. She covered her face with both hands and stamped her feet, then wailed up at me, on the verge of tears.
"Forget it! Forget what you heard! I was just making it up as I went along! If I'd known anyone was listening, I would never have been that sloppy about—!"
―Why? It was beautifully improvised. I enjoyed it.
"Aaagh!"
Thermia sank to the ground, overcome with mortification.
When the groaning had quieted, the teacher edged over. "You are watching through the bow?"
―Mm, more or less. Since they're made from my own branches, my senses reach them even when they're far away. I was curious whether Thermia was traveling safely, and then one day I could simply... see.
"Such perception defies all common sense, and yet to the Tree, it's something You simply 'saw one day.'"
The teacher's mouth fell open.
―It's nothing special. I've always been like this. Anyway — Thermia, have you calmed down?
"No... It feels like someone just read the continental-conquest epic I secretly scribbled at home to stave off boredom. I would never actually write such a thing, but that's what it feels like."
Ah, that thing. It was pretty entertaining. I felt too guilty to read the whole thing, so I stopped partway through.
Thermia rubbed her cheeks until she'd collected herself, and then — perhaps having discovered a shiny new interest to replace her embarrassing past — her eyes began to gleam.
"Then it would be possible for me to show You around as we travel?"
―Mm-hmm.
Her cheeks went pink with delight. "Then when we reach the city, let's go sightseeing together! I've been agonizing over what presents to get Bang-ul-i and Pebble. If we pick out gifts together, I just know they'll love them even more!"
―Ooh, wonderful idea.
We didn't cross paths with any more mercenaries — or bandits, whichever they'd been — for the rest of the journey. The ones who'd fled must have spread the word.
The elves soon reached the city. A wall, not tremendously tall but far beyond any human's ability to climb, wrapped around it.
They joined the line for inspection at the gate — the queue for merchants with their carts and the like.
Thermia sat atop a wagon, swinging her legs idly, her hands gesturing here and there as she pointed things out. "Some villages have walls and some don't, but the walled ones are usually bigger and more central. So when people say 'city,' they mean the walled ones. This isn't the lord's castle seat, but it counts as a city."
―Ooh, fancy.
It felt like stepping out of the countryside.
The teacher, listening in, added a gentle aside. "Common folk generally use 'city' to mean a military stronghold. These days there are large cities that form without walls, but this being the kingdom's frontier, a city can hardly grow large without a lord's backing — so people here probably just assume a city must have walls. Would that be right?"
"Oh, really? Some places don't have walls?"
―A city that grew on its own, without a lord's support? It must be enormously bustling and huge. Come to think of it, wouldn't a wall actually be a hindrance to a city growing that fast?
"Not all of them, no — but Your understanding is precise. You sit in the forest and watch the whole world go by, don't You?" The teacher smiled.
He does seem rather fond of me. He keeps his dignity about him, but there's an unmistakable warmth underneath.
Come to think of it, he's been on the raw diet too — maybe the knots in his gut finally loosening loosened his heart along with them? The body's changes do reach the mind, after all.
"Huh?"
Thermia spotted something off to the side.
Away from the queue, a slave trader was organizing his cargo — slaves, gagged and bound in chains. Unpleasant, certainly, but was it legal? It was a sight Thermia had probably grown numb to, and yet something about it caught in her throat.
"Why are they all elves?"
Every single slave in that line was an elf.
―How do legal slaves come about, exactly?
"Slaves in bulk usually come from interstate trade or war, but in peacetime it's mostly voluntary sale or criminals. All of them being elves is strange indeed."
"Isn't that illegal?"
The enslaved elves were staring over with desperate eyes. They couldn't speak past their gags, but their faces pleaded for help all the same.
"Too soon to jump to conclusions. The garrison's forces are stretched thin — it may be that these elves banded together as bandits and were caught at it. Or the man may simply be a trader who deals primarily in elves."
One elf slave stepped toward them as if to beg for help, only to be kicked back into line.
"This is why humans—"
The teacher's brow furrowed. "Not all humans are like that, of course. But there are so many of them that the trash comes in matching volume."
"Should we report it to the guard? ...Or is that going too far?"
The teacher shook his head. "Look at him. That trader has clearly passed through here several times already. Reporting a man with precedent behind him would accomplish nothing."
That said, it seemed the teacher simply disliked the slave trader on principle.
"However — if I were certain it was illegal, I could call on an acquaintance of mine here. When something is legal, there is nothing more shameful than that."
―Oh? If you're certain, you could do something about it?
"Ah — You were listening. I misspoke. Yes, quite right. If it is certainly illegal, then I can resolve it myself."
Was he planning to lean on the Crown Prince's connections?
In this rebel-held domain, there was no authority greater. But if he wielded power that overwhelming just to catch one slave trader and it turned out to be legal... the embarrassment would be beyond imagining.
―Then let me check for you.
"Pardon?"
I swept my awareness over the trader's caravan. A slave ledger — obviously there'd be a ledger, wouldn't there?
There it was, tucked snugly in the carriage the caravan master rode in.
Hee-hee. Just going to have a little look.
I registered each page, one by one. Near the back, a freshly written list of slaves came into view.
Let's see now...
These elves had been traveling, hoping to relocate to one of the elf villages, and been captured on the way.
Whoa? Wait — aren't those headed for OUR village?
Even after the lord's castle stopped sending people, elves who'd heard rumors of its support had kept trickling in, searching for a better home. The flow of voluntary migrants had dwindled so visibly that I'd assumed it was simply time for it to taper off — but apparently there'd been a very concrete reason.
The traders had been lying in wait along the roads, abducting anyone who'd heard the rumor.
And it can't just be this one trader exploiting the rumor, either.
They weren't quite villagers of mine yet — but practically speaking, they were. And now slave traders had butted in out of nowhere and thrown themselves a feast at our expense.
Responsibility welled up inside me.
―It's illegal abduction, all right. Worse — these are elves on their way to our village. They were taken en route.
The teacher faltered. "How can You know that?"
How do I know? Seriously?
―I can just see it.
"...You can simply see it."
The teacher's mouth fell open.
―Yep. Just see it. But that's not the important part.
―These elves are, for all practical purposes, our villagers — and they were abducted.
The teacher's face went rigid. He glanced back at the slave caravan and muttered, as if devouring the words one by one:
"These wretches are looking to die."
Tell me about it.
―Let's report it, then.
"There is a cleaner method than reporting them and locking them in a cell. A method that benefits the world."
Huh? A cleaner method?
He was Academy-educated — perhaps there was some refined, statesmanlike solution I didn't know about?
The teacher exchanged glances with the rest of the party. Some ineffable, elves-only understanding passed between them.
He slung his bow over his shoulder and started walking toward the caravan, his gait studiedly casual — the stroll of a man with some trivial errand. Then he spotted one of the elf slaves, froze, and cried out in horror.
"Wait — isn't that the one who went missing?!"
Every head turned at the shout. The bored souls waiting in line swiveled around all at once.
"You villains! You dared abduct a villager of ours! Do you truly wish to go on living after this?!"
A finger stabbed out at the slave trader.
"What?"
The rough-looking caravan members were caught flat-footed. They fumbled, baffled by what was happening — then, aware of all the eyes on them, hurried to speak. "We have never abducted any villag—"
"What was that?! You DID abduct them, so what of it?! And you call that an answer?! You shameless slavers! This is exactly why you're slavers!"
The teacher bellowed a denial that bore no resemblance whatsoever to anything the trader had said. Those too far away to hear the exchange nodded along — ah, slavers, that figures — and joined in the finger-pointing.
"Who's in charge here! Did you think you could hide after daring to abduct another village's people?!"
The flustered caravan master came scrambling out. "What's the meaning of this outrage?!"
The teacher's eyes swept over the man in a flash — reading his clothes, reading the reactions of his underlings, confirming his rank. Then, in a voice utterly transformed from a moment ago, cold and level, he murmured:
"So you are the caravan master."
"What?"
The teacher raised his bow without a shred of warning. An arrow was loosed before anyone could blink, and it struck the caravan master square in the chest.
"Hrk—!"
Just like that, there was one fewer corpse-to-be in the world.
The caravan members' faces went blank with shock. Before any of them could grasp the extremity of the situation, the elves let loose a volley as if they'd been waiting for exactly this.
A rain of arrows poured down on the caravan. The slavers crumpled one after another, spurting blood — and the arrow-blessing rained down upon them a second time.
The volleys of people who lived by the hunt passed clean over the cowering elf slaves and sought out humans alone.
Before long, the only things left standing at the caravan's campsite were human corpses.
The last man, who had cowered trembling behind an elf slave, went down to one of the teacher's arrows.
Silence settled over the road.
The teacher lowered his bow and smiled in deep satisfaction. "Hoo! Good. Consider it resolved. I'll call in someone I know to clear away the bodies."
WHOA?! That's abuse of authority, isn't it?!
...Come to think of it, though, there really is no solution more Academy-refined than abusing one's connections.
Thermia, who'd been too slow on the uptake to prepare anything and had simply stood there gaping, arrived at her own understanding. "So connections are what matter most in life! The Tree did sort of teach me that!"
WHOA?! I never taught you anything of the kind!
The future of our village worries me deeply...