The Sapling in My Care (4)

The guard captain came running over.

The moment he spotted Teacher, far from scolding him, he showered him with flattery — claiming he'd handled things splendidly, that he'd saved him a mountain of work — and then swept the slave trader's corpse away without a trace. He never once asked whether the man had been a legal trader or an illegal one.

I suppose Teacher is more well-connected than I thought.

He probably only came out to this rural village because of the Crown Prince, but as political exiles go, you couldn't ask for a softer landing. Or could you? Considering his young age, being tied to future power might actually make this an excellent posting. After all, when the Crown Prince resolved to change and dedicate himself to study, he'd had no choice but to seek out Teacher — the only educated man in the village — and beg for lessons. Maybe this wasn't a demotion at all, but an arrangement from above: if the inadequate heir ever had a change of heart, Teacher would be there to serve as his tutor. It seems Teacher is regarded within the rebel faction as a promising young talent worthy of trust. If the rebellion succeeds, his future is wide open. Though the fact that he happens to be an elf, making him easy to tuck away in an elf village, does give off a distinct vibe of being sent off under the banner of killing two birds with one stone.

"I'll remove their restraints."

Thermia freed the enslaved elves one by one. Once she removed their gags as well, gratitude poured out alongside a flood of stories about every indignity they had suffered. All of them had indeed been bound for our village, only to be kidnapped by the slave trader lying in wait. The rumors must have spread further than I expected.

While Thermia, swept up in their pitiful tales, listened to every last one, Teacher cut things off at an appropriate point and took stock of the situation. He sat himself down on the arrow-riddled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠box and began to write.

"With the village growing so large, seeking a more comfortable place to settle was reason enough. But with the lord having marched on the capital, I suspect the more pressing reason right now was fleeing the war to take refuge in a village tucked away in the frontier forest."

So they ran from war, only to run straight into a slave trader? What? Isn't that a bit much? The more I think about it, the more loathsome that trader becomes. Even if slave commerce arises inevitably from a society's culture, the trade itself deserves no respect — and to be this greedy, kidnapping people wholesale like that...

How about we conduct a sweeping purge of the area around the village?

Even if they lacked the numbers to do our village real harm, anyone harboring intentions that wicked ought to be tracked down and returned to nature, don't you think?

"Understood. Then I'll secure permission from the authority here — leave to operate a citizen militia within the fief. We originally received the lord's castle's support to suppress bandits, so the justification is more than sufficient."

Ah, right — it's someone else's territory, so he needs permission.

Are you sure about that, though? This is a fief in rebellion, no? If we get close enough to be running militias on their blessing, what happens to our village if the rebellion fails?

Teacher paused. So that caught his attention, huh?

"I doubt you know the precise circumstances, Great Tree, but this is not rebellion — it is the rightful exercise of a legitimate claim. A second son does not forfeit his right to the throne merely for being second-born."

Ah, so that was the sticking point. Noted.

"And while the commoners seem to mistake this for a war over the succession, the truth is otherwise. The King died suddenly, leaving the capital empty, and the second son rushed to the capital before a pretender with no claim could seize it. He went to protect the kingdom's peace, you see."

Teacher glanced around, then added in a small, careful voice, "I'm no insider, so I can't say for certain, but there are rumors that even within the capital there will be supporters — that with luck, the kingdom's peace might be preserved without a single battle. And even if fortune fails, the second son can keep the eldest, who commands no soldiers, safe and sound under his wing."

Is that actually a rumor, or an insider's confirmation of facts?

"In any case, if we return and the village makes preparations to crush the slave traders... that would put us around summer, I'd say. Which tangles this into the raw-diet farm plans, given our labor situation—"

Teacher began revising his plans. But isn't summer far too late? All those would-be villagers on their way to us will be sold off as slaves in the meantime.

Never mind — I'll just relay this to the village directly.

"I beg your pardon? Relay it how, exactly?"

Hm? I'm in the village forest right now, aren't I? Just call the village chief over and we can talk. And the village can carry out the purge right this minute.

Teacher belatedly realized this, and his face went slack with shock. "The distance... the distance is— er? The distance...?"

It seemed his thoughts had just become monumentally complicated. I waited, but nothing changed, so I shifted my attention back home. Either way, the village could handle this right now, and that would be that.

The city's walls and the gory remains of the slave trader slid out of view. A broad grassy clearing and the forest came into sight instead, and a wave of calm washed over me. Cities with their human bustle have their charm, but this is more my taste. I finally understand why humans bother planting trees along their streets and carving out parks.

Looking around, I found Water Drop was apparently off sightseeing with the Crown Prince. I was curious what they were up to, but she was outside my domain, so I had no way to know. Even when I asked her casually, she only tilted her head and shook it, as if it were a secret.

For now, I approached an elf wandering the forest and asked him to fetch the village chief. The elf jumped in fright, then sprinted off in a hurry.

"I'll bring him at once!"

Er, it's not urgent, you know. You could walk. I waited, and Chief Eldrin came running along with him. He arrived panting, caught his breath, and asked, "What is the matter?"

How do I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠put this. You really didn't need to rush. Still, no harm done, I suppose.

I explained the situation. Through the bow I'd given Thermia, I'd been able to watch over her; with it she'd caught the bandits; and when they reached the city, there'd been a slave trader, and so on and so forth.

So I was thinking the village itself might conduct a purge. Those people are, for all practical purposes, our villagers — I can't just leave them to be sold as slaves.

Eldrin deliberated. "Do you truly wish it?"

Hm? Is it really that difficult?

"This is the season when the village must swiftly replenish the food stores depleted over the winter."

Eldrin explained in detail. "When the seeds traded for flour in the city arrive, we'll need to mobilize labor for large-scale farm construction, which requires stockpiling far more food than before. The hunters will be pulled away en masse toward farming that produces nothing for the time being, you see. And we must prepare amply for the possibility that the crops fail."

The chief gave a bitter smile. "Believe me, I ache to save those elves — they are, in practice, our own people. But they are not, strictly speaking, villagers of ours."

Positions of responsibility really are difficult, aren't they?

What if the elves we rescue work as hunters to replenish the food supply?

"Possible in theory. But blindly trusting outsiders who haven't yet adapted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the village is a dangerous thing. This may not be a decision for a mere village chief to make."

I see. Not his decision to make, then.

Then I'll make them our people myself.

That is what a Sacred Tree is for, after all.

When Thermia returns, gather them together and speak with them. Tell them how wonderful this village is — how good a life they could live here.

That is exactly what a Sacred Tree exists to do.

"Will that truly be all right with you?"

Chief, it's kind of you to be considerate of me, but for things like this, I'd honestly be more at ease if you asked my indulgence sweetly, the way Thermia does.

Come to think of it, I understand why she's the one who comes as our representative.

And I quite enjoyed the little play last time, myself. Though some of the reactions did trouble me juuust a bit.

Chief Eldrin allowed himself a faint smile. "What troubles you cannot be helped. We shall ask your indulgence on that point, then."

Well, that was quick. Quick on the uptake, aren't you?

A ripple of laughter passed through me.

"Then we shall operate the purge force as you wish."

Thank you.

"It seems the village population, which I'd assumed had finally stabilized, will grow again — I'll need to revise the village plans as well. We'll be busy for a while."

Eldrin departed with a slightly pained expression. The chief's seat really is a demanding one. A responsible post like that is no place for someone like me — a mere back-mountain sapling whose greatest passion is basking in the sunlight.

I stretched out my branches and drank in the sunshine. It warmed my leaves through and through. Yoo-hoo, another day of lovely sun. Thank you.

In all my time here, I have never once seen Pebble stay awake of her own accord. If asked to work, she'll rouse herself and do it, but she is, at heart, a creature who loves her sleep. Today, however, was different.

I found the Pebble Girl sitting upright, lost in thought. What? She's not sleeping?

Looking closer, I saw she was clutching the leafy crown she always wore in her hand, turning it over as she pondered. Her usual sleepy expression was nowhere to be found. What on earth? I couldn't imagine what subject could plunge a girl who did nothing but sleep into such deep thought. Had she had a nightmare?

Perhaps she sensed my gaze, because she turned to look at me. Perfect timing for a chat.

Got something on your mind? Did you have a bad dream?

The Pebble Girl bent down and scooped up a handful of soil. She worked it in her fingers, and one by one, clay letters took shape. I thought my eyes were playing tricks, but no — they were genuinely words. What? You know how to write? Being a solid-mana spirit, I suppose she'd memorized at least a vocabulary's worth of words made from solid mana. What a frightening talent.

The letters were laid on the ground ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one by one, forming a sentence.

A heavy question, that. Even now, Water Drop was off watching the Crown Prince. She did come back at night, but her hours away had grown considerably — that much was true. Still, her expression had brightened enormously of late, so she was in better shape than before. Whatever it was she'd found, it seemed she'd discovered a path of her own.

But Pebble, it seemed, was anxious. The little earth spirit held her sentence up toward me and waited for an answer. Her face was calm and composed — but in the small hands fidgeting with her leafy crown, I could feel the unease.

I chose my words with care.

It's not that at all. She likes you so much that she's working hard to like you even more. If you trust her and wait, Water Drop will surely come to love you even more than she does now.

Then, half in jest, I slipped in one more line.

Just like me — always here, waiting for you to talk to me.

Whether the words reached her by instinct or by heart, Pebble's expression brightened. Only then did she relax, put her crown back on, and lie down as she always did. Within moments, the little girl had drifted off to sleep. A warm sleep, from the look of it.

I was glad she understood. And yet, soothing an anxious Pebble with words alone left me personally unsatisfied. It would have been so much better to wrap her in an embrace and chase the worry away for good — the way Water Drop so often hugged my branches. Was there really no way?

Moving my branches was limited to a tree's reach. And manipulating solid or liquid mana to embrace her was equally limited, since I could only wield it across my own surface. Hmm? Hold on. Was I truly limited to my own surface, though?

Up until now, that had certainly been the case.

At level one, mana had moved only within my body. As I grew from sapling and my mana level rose, I gained the ability to move it across my surface as well. But this didn't sit quite right with the principles of the Natural Circulation Method. Nature circulates. Plants grow from the soil; they are eaten and become part of a person; the person dies and returns to the soil. Form merely changes — soil, plant, and person are, at bottom, the same thing.

So did I truly need to draw a rigid line between myself and nature? Humans live carrying their own turbid mana — perhaps that private muddiness is both their distance from nature and their individuality all at once. For such a being to mingle with nature as though there were no distinction at all might, in fact, be a reckless act of self-erasure.

But I, through the circulation method, had accumulated the purest mana in existence — mana closest to nature itself. There was no need for me to be clearly separated from nature at all.

I moved my mana. Moved it with the freedom of a thing that goes precisely where it wills. The freedom to gently pat a frightened little girl's back. What is the freest thing in all of nature? The wind blew.

An immense tide of mana scattered and drifted freely through the air. Grasses bent before it, the way blades bow to the breeze. Carefully, gently, I guided the mana forward. Like the wind itself, it patted the sleeping girl's shoulder.

Her eyes opened slowly. Seeing me, she gave a soft, faint smile, and closed them again. The little girl drifted off once more, nestled in that gentle patting. It was a warm, warm sleep.