The Greeting Sapling (2)

A great commotion had broken out.

Ordinarily, elves didn't come and go around me all that much. The little white lie I'd told—that I was shy, meant to cover for the Water Drop Girl's bashfulness—had somehow morphed into the Sacred Tree does not care for commotion, and so no elf had lingered in my presence since.

But now things were different. When the miners went hunting for the wretch who had burned the medicine, and started grilling innocent elves who had merely stopped by their family graves, I'd found myself offering an explanation that wasn't really an explanation at all.

Thanks to the unmistakable physical evidence, the preposterous claim that stamina surged and fatigue melted away within my domain was accepted almost instantly.

"As expected, the Tree is no ordinary tree!"

The rumor spread far and wide, and soon elves began drifting into the nearby forest to laze around and rest. Thermia's secret base in particular—with all its space, and its usefulness for archery practice on a whim—had turned into a full-fledged vacation spot.

"My secret base... the place the Tree itself acknowledged as my secret base..."

Thermia murmured, her feelings complicated.

"How do You do it?"

Teacher, returning from a hundred-arrow practice session, looked utterly flustered.

—I put my intent into an arrow and pierced the shield, remember? But intent isn't limited to arrows, so this time I scattered it across the entire domain. I packed it full of the wish that the miners working so hard would have plenty of stamina, and that their fatigue would melt away easily. That's all.

Teacher's expression had gone past incomprehension into a snarl of everything he thought he knew about the world. So this is what happens when an educated elite collides with a reality he can't parse.

So I gave him a premium, elite-caliber answer.

—I just did it, and it just worked.

"So it simply... works."

Teacher sighed in easy relief. Give up on understanding, and life gets simpler.

Apart from the secret base, Thermia had been brooding alone, and suddenly her face clouded over.

"The Tree has granted a miracle, yet the villagers' behavior right now is extremely reckless."

Is it?

"If you receive grace, you should give thanks for it, carry on with your daily life, and enjoy the blessing naturally. How can people intrude upon the Tree's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tranquility and come all the way out to the forest to lounge about? They could just as well rest in the village. This calls for a correction of attitude."

The villagers didn't come as far as my grassy clearing, it was true—but the forest's tranquility had undeniably been disturbed.

"You're right, Thermia."

Village Chief Eldrin walked over. With Thermia and Teacher already here, he had apparently finished his blacksmithing at his leisure and come strolling along after them.

"Does the Tree perhaps find it burdensome to sustain the present miracle?"

—Not especially. It's as natural as breathing, so maintaining it costs me nothing. And honestly, I liked seeing people come into the forest and rest happily. I wouldn't go so far as to call it an intrusion.

Even if it was noisier than usual.

"Understood. Then I will conclude this matter by gently informing the residents and asking for their care."

—Good plan.

Before long, things returned to the way they'd been. Benches for resting appeared along the village's edges, and more elves were seen sitting on them, but the forest regained its quiet. Birds chirped. Grass blades swayed.

So quiet is nice.

—It didn't bother your sleep, did it?

When I asked the Pebble Girl, she gave no particular answer. She'd simply slept. Even if people resting in the forest wasn't truly rude, with the Pebble Girl in mind, sending them away had probably been the right call.

In the end, was all this fuss because my influence radius was still only about five hundred meters? Once the radius gradually expanded, I imagined the benches would be removed and people could go about their daily routines as before.

My roots had grown.

Once I was satisfied with the root work, I turned my attention back toward the village.

A hammer came down on iron. The repeated blows heated the metal red and slowly bent it into shape. Strike, fold, press into the mold—and before anyone knew it, a sickle blade had taken form. Fit it onto a wooden handle, quench it in cold water, and the fixing collar shrank tight, locking it firmly in place.

A farming tool, complete.

"For ore supposedly dug up casually from the hill behind the village, this iron quality is remarkable?"

The human blacksmith marveled as he inspected it. He was the master smith sent along with the mine laborers in response to the Crown Prince's letter.

"And for some reason, working here makes my strength surge and my fatigue vanish. Plenty left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the tank to make what the village needs, and then some to sell on top of it."

"The location really does suit us well."

"Feels like being young again. To think such a place exists in this world. Well, it fascinates me enough that I'll make as much as I can while I'm staying."

Village Chief Eldrin and the blacksmith threw themselves into producing farm tools. With the forge sitting squarely inside my domain, their work moved remarkably fast, and the finished implements went straight to the farm.

Peering through my bow, I caught sight of the Crown Prince crouched down, absorbed in his sickle work. When the blade severed the roots of a leafy green, it snapped off cleanly—harvest made simple. The vegetables planted for the summer harvest piled one by one into his basket.

"Mm! The quality of farm implements truly has an enormous effect on a farmer's life."

Good tools certainly seemed to save strength.

"Though spreading good implements to every corner of a vast realm is a terribly difficult undertaking, there is a reason every dynasty in history devoted itself to it."

"What are you muttering to yourself about?"

the Big Brother Thief asked, working beside him.

"Reviewing what I've studied."

"You do seem fond of your books. Want me to teach you something? None of that matters in life, you know. Savor the quiet joy of honest sweat—that's how a true life is built."

The thief pointed in my direction.

"That's exactly why the Tree grants us the miracle of honest work and good rest, so we might awaken to this profound truth ourselves. Wouldn't you say?"

"Hah! Big Brother's got it right."

the Little Brother Thieves chimed in.

"I strayed down the wrong path myself, sure, but not one word my parents ever told me turned out false. And now the Tree teaches us like a parent—so it's on us to follow with all our strength, isn't it?"

The Crown Prince nodded.

"Since birth I have beheld countless wonders and marvels, yet never once have I experienced fatigue melting away from the mere act of breathing. There is a reason the Sacred Tree is called sacred."

Is there? I didn't exactly mean anything by it.

A voice drifted over just then, and I turned toward it.

"Perfect. I'll set the bow here, so you can rest whenever you come back from the fields."

Thermia said, eyeing the ornate stand she'd built at one end of the farm and its surroundings. Using my bow as a conduit for gaseous mana and projecting the Divine Domain Zone through it had proven possible with a bit of experimentation. Transferring the gaseous mana made the process fussy and something I had to hold consciously, so it was a bit of a burden—but for one spot, I could manage.

—Seems like a good spot.

Thermia carefully placed the bow on the display rack she'd prepared in advance. Watching that pristine white ornate stand sitting at the edge of the farm left me with strangely mixed feelings. So when the villagers finished sweating over the fields and it came time to rest, they were going to sit around gazing at my bow.

Well, that's...

What am I even supposed to feel about people resting while staring at my bow?

"How about we erect a small building here? A place for giving prayers of gratitude while beholding the holy relic the Sacred Tree has bestowed."

—Relic, is it?

"Of course it's a relic. An object that melts away fatigue and fills you with strength just by being near it—if that's not a holy relic, what is?"

Hard to argue with that.

"Besides, it even lets us communicate with the Sacred Tree when needed."

Really hard to argue with that.

—But, see, I've been thinking for a while now. Wasn't our Sacred Tree supposed to be a temporary play? Why does this keep getting bigger? If it goes on like this, walking it back is only going to get harder. Lies pile up, you know. That's how lies work.

Thermia just blinked—and pretended not to hear.

—Um, hello? This is just your mysterious sapling from the hill behind the village asking, you know?

The girl turned to the villagers waiting nearby.

"We shall erect a small building. Leaving the display stand standing all alone would be discourteous to the Sacred Tree."

Her gestures sketched out plans this way and that.

"We should make a shaded roof to keep the rain out, and drape the interior with cloth."

Then, mid-sentence, something seemed to occur to her, and Thermia abruptly launched into a sermon for the villagers.

"The Tree has told us not to adorn Her, but to adorn ourselves. Yet a holy relic passes through human hands, and so its stain must be washed away through our devotion. Adorn it with all the sincerity you possess."

"Wise words, truly."

The elves were awestruck, and took her lesson to heart.

How do I put this...

Why is this proceeding entirely without regard for my opinion...?

Having directed work here and there, Thermia casually sidled over and giggled.

"You know it's a joke, right? As You well know, the Sacred Tree is a spiritual pillar for assimilating the immigrants. New settlers keep arriving, so there's no helping it—it has to be maintained for now."

The girl rubbed her palms together with a genuinely apologetic look and winked.

"Please bear with it just a little longer."

Put that way, I supposed she had a point. Originally, with the slave traders kidnapping people mid-journey cutting into the flow of settlers, the village—which had been growing—needed to be able to stabilize. Village Chief Eldrin had wished for exactly that.

But I had pushed things forward and driven the campaign against the slave traders so that immigrants could keep coming. That meant I had a responsibility to bear.

—Fine. Though I do feel like I've sat myself down in the wrong seat, if it's necessary, I'll put up with it.

Then I added, half to myself:

—Come to think of it, I could gather everyone later and explain that I'm not really this Sacred Tree, just a mysterious ordinary sapling from the hill behind the village who happens to be good at this and that. Surely they'd take it at face value?

I'd turned hardened criminals into penitent believers with a single pulse of intent—surely I could clear up a little misunderstanding.

The girl just giggled without a word.

Hee hee.

"Anyway, I should ask Velesa to make the decorative cloth. She's so busy with her romance these days, who knows if she'll have the time. Huh? Sis?"

Velesa was crossing the farm. She looked down at the Crown Prince crouched among the leafy greens and asked, quite casually:

"What work has you so dedicated?"

"I was learning the foundations of ruling a nation."

"Mm-hm."

Velesa gave him a sidelong glance.

"And you have nothing to say to the woman who came looking for you because it's time to prepare dinner and you hadn't come home?"

"What?!"

The Crown Prince reeled in shock.

"It's already that hour?! My apologies, truly."

"Goodness, you can't even keep to mealtimes? I can't live like this."

"Heh heh."

"Just hurry up and go. We agreed to cook together today, and this is what I get."

So they'd graduated to date-night cooking in the kitchen, had they.

Just then, an escort knight came sprinting across the farm—wearing a brightness I had never once seen on his face. The urgent letter in his hand fluttered in the wind.

"Your Highness! We are victorious!"

The Crown Prince panicked, glancing at Velesa.

"'Your Highness'? What nonsense is this—"

"Now is not the time for that! Your lordship's great cause is accomplished! The hour has come for you to return to the capital!"

The Second Prince had seized the throne.

And the Crown Prince had, at long last, truly become the Crown Prince.

Paelian, the elven teacher who had been instructing the villagers who couldn't read, hurried his lessons to an early close upon receiving the urgent news, then ran clear across the village toward the house where the Crown Prince was staying.

He crossed paths with an escort wearing the same bright expression, was shown inside, and when the doors opened, he found the Crown Prince alone, deep in thought.

"My congratulations, Your Highness."

The Crown Prince broke off his brooding, smiled, and waved a hand.

"It was my father who did well—what is there for me to be congratulated for? Come, sit. Hiding my rank all this while, we've hardly had a proper conversation, you and I."

The Crown Prince poured the tea himself and handed it over. Hot steam rose from the cup.

"I hear you've spent this time teaching the villagers their letters. Even out here ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in this forest village, your character and ability haven't changed one bit. Well done."

The Crown Prince had changed a great deal. Paelian felt the heart that had soured under his cold exile beginning, at last, to thaw.

Still, the regret of being unable to go to the capital at the moment of the great cause—of remaining behind with a Crown Prince he'd written off as finished—stung badly. That the only elf who could be spared to this elf village was himself, wasting the once-in-a-lifetime chance to serve at his lord's side and win great merit—it made indignation rise in his chest all over again.

But if the Crown Prince he'd considered rotten had changed, the calculus changed entirely. He still had many shortcomings—yet looked at the other way, that meant opportunity overflowed for Paelian to build his position at his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠side. He had already been organizing study materials and assigning coursework to a Crown Prince newly resolved to better himself. For an elf, that alone was an unimaginable position.

"I know you were deeply disappointed. How great that disappointment must have been—to be stuck here in the hinterlands with a worthless man like me at the crucial hour—I cannot even fathom it."

He really had changed. Was this truly the same Crown Prince who had been insolent to everyone except the handful of escorts and retainers he'd gathered before his brother's death?

"It may still seem precarious to you, but I swear it on my honor. When I ascend to the capital, I will treat you—who suffered alongside me—with every generosity."

The Crown Prince spoke as if making a vow to himself.

"I do not abandon my people."

Paelian's heart swelled with unfamiliar emotion. His long suffering had borne fruit.

Aside from the Crown Prince's transformation and resolve, the problems awaiting him in the capital would pile up mountain-high. If Paelian stood at his side, helped him, and cemented his position, then his old goal—rising to lead the ignorant elves who came after him—could be achieved without the slightest difficulty.

Paelian bowed his head to give thanks. And then, as his gaze dropped, it landed on the teacup.

Steam rose from it. A refined fragrance—the kind one found only in the capital.

Somehow, different words came out of his mouth.

"Your Highness... how does my complexion look to you?"

The Crown Prince looked at him in puzzlement.

"Far better than before, I would say. As with elves of old, you once looked rather poorly, but now you have a vitality about you, almost like a human's. Perhaps from being spared endless toil?"

Paelian could not stop the smile from spreading.

"I..."

With a gesture, he politely pushed away the cup the Crown Prince had filled for him. The untouched tea swayed gently.

"I will remain here."

The Crown Prince looked at him, astonished.

"Why?"

Paelian met his gaze squarely.

"Because the future of the elves is here."

He had no regrets about his answer.