The Sapling Under My Care (6)
A broad stretch of open earth lay spread out below. This was land the Pebble Girl had cleared of grass and trees with her own hands—tilled deep, planted, then allowed to rot back into the soil to enrich it.
Elves assigned to farming duty at the village level had gathered in small clusters and set to work: striking the ground with farm tools to break it open, dropping in seeds, and clearing away stones that would hinder the crops.
The most eye-catching of the laborers, of course, was the trio of thieves.
"No, big brother, I keep telling you, you can't do it like that!"
One of the younger brothers jabbed a finger at him. The older brother froze mid-swing, looking sheepish.
"You mean this isn't right?"
"Ugh, give it here! Doing it that way, you'll wreck land the Tree has blessed with grace."
The brother who had farmed back before his thieving days rolled up his sleeves and demonstrated. "You don't gouge the earth in a frenzy with all your strength. You dig just deep enough to drop the seed in, then cover it over. This soil is precious—already beyond what human hands could till. If we meddle too much, we'll only end up ruining it."
"Ahem. I see. Was I working too... enthusiastically?"
"It's your first time, so it happens. Try again. There you go, just like that!"
They looked good working hard. People really do change, it seems, once they've wept, repented, and reflected. Though I'll admit, I'd only made a passing remark and all three had dropped to their knees in remorse on the spot—it caught me rather off guard.
"So those are the thieves, then? The ones who went to the village chief to confess and asked for hard labor?"
Thermia, who had come out to watch carrying my bow, found the whole thing fascinating.
Hard as it may be to believe, I think they can be trusted now. There was genuine remorse in their words.
"You there! You seem to have farmed before—might you teach me as well?"
The Crown Prince appeared out of nowhere in work clothes and addressed the trio directly.
"Gladly, sir. Just follow along."
"Like this?"
The earth parted; the seed was covered. The Crown Prince imitated them for a good while, then wiped his brow.
"…Exceedingly arduous labor, this. And the quality of the farm tools leaves much to be desired. Do farmers in general work with such shoddy implements? Is it that they cannot afford good iron?"
"These are fine tools, actually. Crude iron, yes, but there aren't many villages that could equip their farmers at this level even pooled together. The chief—or someone—has managed the money very frugally."
"By the by, are you of high station? Why have you been speaking informally to me this whole time?"
"What?"
The flustered Crown Prince erupted into a flurry of excuses.
Why is that man carrying on like that?
"Exactly. What on earth happened while I was away at the city?"
But apparently something really had happened. Velesa appeared from the far end with the Water Drop Girl perched on her shoulder and walked straight toward the Crown Prince. It was no chance encounter—her gait said plainly that she had come to see him.
"What are you doing out here without an escort?"
"His escort is right over there."
The escort knight was sweating away at his hoeing.
Velesa shot the Crown Prince a reproachful glance. "Putting a man busy with guarding duties to work in the fields—what a wicked person you are. I knew you'd be like this. If you two get hungry while working, share this between you. And don't be greedy and eat it all yourself."
A basket of bread was handed over.
"Oh! How did you know I craved bread? There is nowhere in this village that sells it—I have been starving."
In the elf village, where the raw diet was in full swing, this was food that could never have been come by easily. Did she make it herself? Something she can't even eat herself—she baked it with her own hands? Is that what this is?
"…Sis?"
Thermia's face filled to the brim with question marks.
"What is going on over there? Why are they suddenly close?"
No idea. Did they fight their way into friendship?
The Water Drop Girl hopped over to the Crown Prince's shoulder, and Velesa turned to leave. Thermia hurried after her sister and grabbed her.
"Sis! What happened while I was gone?"
Velesa explained, looking a little embarrassed. "He did apologize, and as for the slip of the tongue that caused the whole misunderstanding—well, he's a rich boy raised with kid gloves, so I could forgive it to a point."
"And?"
"I've been watching him since, and he trains with the sword and studies all sorts of things quite diligently."
"Diligently?"
Velesa avoided her sister's gaze, somehow flustered. Everything she'd said until now had been an excuse—and with that, her true feelings tumbled right out.
"The truth is, his face is very much my type."
Whaaat?
"I thought I'd keep watching him for a while, and if his character turned out decently, then maybe... try dating him... or something."
Whaaat?
Thermia's mouth simply hung open. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and then she blurted out, "I thought he'd given up on you, though?"
Velesa smiled faintly. It was the look of someone watching an amateur.
"I can seduce him whenever I please. He looked easy."
Whaaat?
Love really does come down to the face, I suppose.
Village meetings were held in the large building at one end of the village. But even a large building couldn't keep pace with the growing population, so at one point meetings had been changed to open attendance, where anyone could join. Then, after the change, things loosened up again, and meetings became possible in the same building once more.
"Honestly, there's less to it than you'd think."
Thermia moved toward the two-tiered seating. "Mostly it's the people with standing who do the talking, and everyone else just listens, so plenty of folks simply check the publicly announced results after the meeting ends."
And where do you stand?
"I have an excessive amount of standing? Ahaha!"
True to her word, Thermia sat right beside the chief, in the upper-tier seats reserved for village elders.
That high up…?
"Ugh. I think it's too much too."
Thermia covered her face in embarrassment. "But I'm also kind of your proxy, Lord Tree, so it feels right in a way? And if I'm the one who led everyone to the sacred tree, it would be strange, from the settlers' perspective, if I didn't sit in a high seat."
Thermia, murmuring with tangled feelings, suddenly brightened. "Oh! Since you can attend village meetings now, I could sit somewhere lower! This seat has always been too high for me. Chief!"
She darted off to the chief, only to be told to keep sitting right where she was, and came trudging back in a sulk. Her face was slightly weighed down by the pressure of it all.
You've done well all this time. You've earned that seat.
"…Okaaay."
Once everyone who would participate had gathered, the village meeting began. Curious to see it as it normally ran, I kept my presence a secret for the time being.
After the customary opening procedures and various items of business, Teacher—already risen to elder rank—obtained the floor and stood.
"The chief's plan is passive and undesirable. As a man of uneducated origins, he can hardly help it, I suppose—but to my educated eyes, it is a choice that gnaws away at this village's future."
Whoa. Whoa there. Thermia had grumbled plenty about how arrogant Teacher was, but I'd never really felt it firsthand—now that I was hearing it directly, it was certainly something else. He hadn't seemed this sharp on the trips to the city. Had he been restraining his personality because he knew I was listening?
Chief Eldrin nodded without much concern. "I can see how it might look that way. So you intend to raise the same argument as last time?"
Teacher affirmed it and turned to the assembly, holding forth. "Have you all not tasted them? The fruits the Tree bestows are exceptional in flavor and fragrance—and they know no season. If we harvest the autumn fruit now and sell it in the city, we would reap a great profit. What better way to fill our empty village coffers could there possibly be?"
Chief Eldrin shook his head. "Nothing has changed since last time. By the authority of the chief, I strike down that proposal, as before."
"What?"
Teacher's eyes bulged. It was a remarkably piercing glare, but Eldrin brushed it aside with ease.
"It is true that the farm project and the subjugation of the slave traders have left the village's finances barren."
The explanation continued. "But that is no license to become a village that survives only by leaning on the Tree. What we are capable of doing, we must do ourselves."
Teacher slammed the table. "Then is it acceptable to receive help with land reclamation! Your words and actions as chief are hardly consistent!"
"Please do not conflate matters you know full well are different. With land reclamation, we can produce our own harvests thereafter—but the proposal you keep putting forward requires the Tree's consent every single time. This and that are not the same thing."
Chief Eldrin met Teacher's eyes calmly. "You have exceeded your speaking time. Sit down now."
"With a single request for consent, we could multiply our funds and grow this village—you are a truly frustrating man."
"Nothing is as worrisome as overconfidence in the future. Sit. Down."
Teacher glared for a moment longer, then obediently took his seat.
Whoa. Whoa. Village meetings are intense.
Is this normal? I whispered.
"Since Teacher arrived, yes."
Thermia groaned. "Our village used to just do whatever the chief decided, but now that someone with strong opinions has shown up, the discussions feel livelier? Putting it nicely."
It was intense, all right, but it seemed like a genuinely constructive meeting. Teacher would sneak in all manner of fallacious tricks to force his arguments through, and the chief would catch every one and swat it down, so the balance was quietly maintained.
What's more, Teacher, surprisingly, held no grudges. Emotionally charged arguments stayed confined to the proposal at hand; on other matters he spoke calmly again. So the meeting as a whole pressed forward with vigorous, constructive debate. If anything, Teacher's passionate oratory was what kept the meeting alive rather than letting it wither—for one thing, nobody dozed off. An educated elite really is an educated elite.
"Since securing funds appears difficult, then I propose reducing expenditures. Our major expenses at present go to farm tools and weaponry. The chief is the only one among us who learned smithing, and he is too occupied with village duties for our crude iron to be recycled into farm tools smoothly. If the chief's duties were divided among several people, we could greatly reduce farm tool expenditure itself."
Slyly tabling a measure that would shave down the chief's authority as a means of checking him—how very elite. And if refused, he could criticize the refusal and chip away at the chief's standing. Sharp power politics indeed.
The chief heard him out and nodded. "I agree. The village has grown; I had already been thinking that some authority ought to be distributed."
Whoa?
"However, there is a misunderstanding in the claim that crude iron is not being recycled into farm tools. What remains over is crude iron too poor in quality to serve as tools. There is no surplus available for conversion."
Teacher faltered. He hurriedly rifled through the various documents he had compiled with his own hands, then heaved a sigh. "I was unaware. I retract my earlier statement."
Chief Eldrin nodded readily. "You are a layman in metallurgy; it happens. However, our farm tools are currently too few to work all the reclaimed land, so even if it takes time, we would do better to purchase iron ingots outright and craft what we need."
"Do we not lack the funds?"
"During autumn, while the beast hides pile up, it should be possible."
So the hides were being sold on this city trip as well—there really was nowhere for money to come from. But hold on—iron ingots? Wouldn't iron ore do just as well?
I let my intent drift quietly through the entire building.
Couldn't you just dig up iron ore instead of buying it?
Every gaze in the room snapped toward me at once. Thermia flinched and presented my bow.
Teacher was utterly flustered. "You were watching us this whole time…?"
Yes. You were all working so hard.
The village's future looked bright—it was a pleasant thing to watch.
More to the point—couldn't you simply mine the iron ore?
Chief Eldrin inclined his head. "In theory, if we had an iron mine, mining it ourselves would indeed be the correct course. But our village has no mine. We must purchase everything."
Really?
No—you do have one.
"Pardon?"
From where I grew—pass the tree, cross the rocks, go over the grassland, then dig down into the earth a little shallower than my own height, and there it is.
The memory was vivid: while extending my roots this time, a mineral vein had barred my way and I had detoured around it. I'd asked the Pebble Girl about it, and she'd said it was iron ore.
The deposit probably isn't the size of a proper mine, but for the village's purposes, it ought to be more than enough to use, with plenty left over to sell in the city.
Everyone's expressions went blank.
Teacher barely clung to the thread of his senses and asked, "How could you possibly know that?"
You ask me that, and…
I can just see it.
Truly, I can just see it.
"So you can simply… see it."
The whole assembly let out a collective gasp of awe.