The Greeting Sapling (4)
In the backyard behind Velesa's house.
"So this is what the World Tree gave you?"
Thermia, who had been on guard when the Crown Prince arrived—half expecting to be arrested for insulting the royal family—finally let her tension melt away as she admired the sword in awe.
Her finger flicked the blade. A clear, ringing tone sang through the air.
"It's lighter than it looks. So the World Tree knows how to work metal, too."
Not exactly, but sure.
"The blade was made by that spirit, wasn't it?"
"Pebble Girl?"
"Was that her name?"
The Crown Prince took the sword back and settled into a stance. He cleaved the empty air, treated the yard to a dashing leap and a flourish of footwork, then let out a gasp of admiration.
"What exquisite balance! I have laid my hands on countless swords forged by master smiths, yet never in my life have I held one fitted so precisely to me."
Well, that wasn't exactly the goal, but apparently it worked out anyway.
Thermia's interest was piqued. Something seemed to occur to her, and her expression shifted into a sly, mischievous grin.
"Have you ever tried praying earnestly to the World Tree while using it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh my, you don't know! Gifts from the World Tree aren't just well-crafted, you see. If you pour your whole heart into a prayer, they can work miracles that no ordinary object ever could. Some might even say that if you don't know how to pray properly, you haven't earned the right to own one at all."
Thermia clasped her hands behind her back and put on an imperious air.
"Your Highness, as your senior in these matters, allow me to teach you how it's done."
"Oh? There is a special method? I beg you to show me."
"First, kneel with a reverent heart. Ah—wait, maybe not the kneeling."
Thermia, who had been rattling on without hesitation, abruptly fell into deep thought.
She'd apparently realized that the Crown Prince was tolerantly letting her get away with insubordination, but that outright demanding he get down on his knees would be going a step too far. The power of the mortal world is a fearsome thing.
"Then stand, with a reverent heart."
"Like so?"
The Crown Prince held the sword upright and drew it to his chest—a pose not unlike the one knights assume when observing formal rites.
"Perfect. Now I'll teach you the prayer. Recite it as you swing the sword. And mind you, don't just recite it—you must fill every word with devotion to the World Tree."
Thermia whispered the words to him.
The Crown Prince listened gravely, then took his stance.
"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 hand. Grant me your miracle."
Wait, isn't that Thermia's self-confessed embarrassment of a prayer?
A faint thread of intent traveled down the sword and tickled the blade. Well, I suppose I ought to respond.
A stone was hurled into the air.
The Crown Prince's eyes flashed, and he swung.
Pouring intent into the edge, the blade split the stone without a sound.
A gust of wind followed in its wake. The shattered remnants of the stone exploded outward and slammed into the trees of the forest. The impact echoed. A felled tree kicked up a cloud of dust.
The Crown Prince stood frozen in his stance, mouth agape.
"That's how it's done. Always handle sacred gifts with a reverent heart and a prayer."
Thermia lied with a perfectly straight face while desperately fighting back laughter. Her cheeks trembled, and her hand pressed hard against her mouth.
He doesn't even need to memorize a prayer, you know. She is teaching him the most embarrassing thing imaginable.
The Crown Prince came back to his senses a beat late and worked himself up.
"Throw another! I must try again!"
"Calm yourself, and keep a reverent heart."
Another stone flew. Again it was cleaved in two, and again an innocent tree toppled to the ground.
"With this, I could cut through even a knight's armor! Haha! There will be none on the battlefield I cannot face!"
"Naturally! It's a sword bestowed by the World Tree, after all!"
Thermia puffed herself up as if the feats were her own.
She was clearly having the time of her life, but perhaps I should smooth things over before she actually gets arrested for lèse-majesté.
―You really don't need to say the prayer out loud.
The Crown Prince flinched and stumbled backward.
"You were watching?"
―Yes. It's not that I had any particular desire to inspect royalty through a sword, but if you're going to wield it like that, I can hardly look away.
"So the prayer is merely a ritual to draw the Sacred Tree's attention? In a way, it is no different from the Theocracy's theological explanations. A lesson learned."
―Thermia was just too—innocent to know better, but you don't need to recite anything when you use the sword. Since I'm the one who has to make the mysterious part happen, you do need to send some kind of signal, but a strong display of intent is all it takes.
"Ah, is that true? I had no idea at all," said Thermia, feigning astonishment. That girl really does savor her thrilling little pranks.
"Must one be in the Sacred Tree's debt for such aid?"
―In principle, yes—but as long as you don't go asking for favors constantly, don't worry about it. I'm just a tree. I'm never exactly busy.
"I shall keep that in mind."
Not that I expect he'll get much use out of that sword, honestly.
―Now then, why don't you put the sword down and have a talk with Velesa? She's been waiting for you, you know.
At this not-so-subtle hint, Velesa—who had been leaning against the wall watching the Crown Prince with an unreadable expression—visibly flustered. The Crown Prince flustered right along with her, their eyes met, and a strange charged silence filled the yard.
"Ah! I just remembered something I need to do~!"
Thermia took the hint and slipped out of the backyard.
Then she made one full loop around the house, scampered back, and hid behind a tree with a view of the yard.
The girl was watching her sister's love life with rapt attention. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. Well, she is that age.
―Are you spying on them?
"Eep!"
Thermia let out a small shriek and hastily clapped both hands over her mouth. Then came a whisper.
"You're going to watch too, World Tree?"
―Isn't watching people fall in love the most entertaining kind of people-watching there is? It'd be different if they were about to fight, but they're not, are they?
"Right, right! Then let's watch together!"
Watching alongside her, I could see the Crown Prince standing there awkwardly, and Velesa still leaning against the wall, observing him.
It was Velesa who spoke first.
"Goodness. Are you just going to stand there looking pathetic? Sit down, why don't you. And put the sword away somewhere out of sight. Honestly, what am I going to do with you."
"······Ahem."
The Crown Prince solemnly set the sword down and sauntered over to the seat beside Velesa. When she gestured at the chair, the man sat obediently.
Velesa crossed her arms and looked down at him.
"Shall I call you 'Your Highness'?"
"Ahem. Call me whatever you like."
Velesa gave a derisive little snort.
"Then shall I call you 'darling'?"
Whaaaat?
"Gasp. Sis knew how to talk like that?"
Thermia drew in a sharp breath, her spectating eyes gone perfectly round.
Shocked as he was, the Crown Prince should have—by all royal dignity—told her not to say such things. And yet, for some reason, he did nothing but sputter in confusion, offering not a word of protest.
Velesa clicked her tongue.
"Goodness, you're delighted. I can tell."
"······Ahem."
Marry her, and this man will truly be led around by the nose for the rest of his days.
"So out with it, then. Are you coming with me or not?"
The Crown Prince hesitated, then squeezed his eyes shut.
"It would be best for you to stay here."
"······Why?"
"You live in the forest, so you may not know, but the capital is not some idyllic place."
"I may be from this village, but I've lived in the capital plenty already. I've even met nobles in the course of my business."
"Then you know better than most."
The Crown Prince met her eyes with grave earnestness.
"For a commoner to join the royal family, they must endure hardships beyond what words can describe. History offers a few examples in past dynasties, but most did not meet a happy end."
Velesa sent him an odd, silent look.
"And beyond that, you are an elf. Our kingdom does not discriminate against elves by law, but the noble society of humans alone is hardly tolerant enough for you to live among them with ease."
The Crown Prince bowed his head.
"I understand you feel you've been toyed with. I cannot promise it will make amends, but if you come to my capital, I will send you considerable personal wealth. Not only for this place—you would be free to live whatever life you wished, wherever you wished, to your heart's content."
Velesa quietly looked him up and down.
Then she smirked.
"Why so serious?"
"What?"
"You and Thermia both—I don't understand why everyone takes everything so gravely."
"What is that supposed to—"
Velesa paced a few light steps.
"Say I do go to the capital and endure those hardships. Say I fail to fit in at court, take nothing but abuse, get frozen out by the nobles and mocked behind my back."
Their eyes met.
"Would I then be executed? Or tortured?"
"How could you even suggest such a thing!"
The Crown Prince leapt to his feet in a flush of indignation.
"Our kingdom is no such shameless, honorless land! If royalty brings a commoner into the fold, that person is, unequivocally, a victim of circumstance—and a commoner may be sneered at and shunned in high society, but executed or tortured? Never! For royalty or nobility to so much as mention such a thing would be a disgrace against noble blood itself!"
Velesa smirked again.
"Then why are you being so serious?"
"What?"
"Say I go, and I turn out to lack the ability, fail to adapt, can't even prove myself worthy—and so I'm mocked and laughed at······"
Velesa broke into a radiant smile.
"Then I take a good, satisfying dose of insults and come home. That's all."
The Crown Prince could only stare at her, dumbfounded.
Velesa shot him a suspicious sidelong glance.
"Or do you actually want to break up with me?"
The Crown Prince drew a sharp breath and answered in a scramble.
"Of course not! I am merely worried for your sake—!"
Without warning, Velesa's fist sank deep into the Crown Prince's stomach.
"Hrk!"
Caught utterly off guard, the Crown Prince clutched his belly and crumpled.
Velesa clicked her tongue and looked down at him.
"Frail thing. Now hurry up and get ready to come with me. Honestly, I've never met anyone so dense."
As the Crown Prince gaped up at her, Velesa frowned.
"Are you going to move, or what?"
"Y-yes, of course! I shall prepare at once!"
The Crown Prince whirled around and sprinted off, shouting for his guards as he rushed away to make arrangements.
Whaaaat. Whaaaat.
Thermia's cheeks flushed pink as she burst out from behind the tree and threw her arms around her sister.
"Sis! Why don't you just live with me instead! I'll take good care of you!"
"What did you just say, you little rascal?"
Velesa smirked, then glanced down at my sword, left lying abandoned on the ground. Her head dipped slightly.
"I may have shown the World Tree a rather ridiculous side of myself."
―Not at all. I found it thoroughly entertaining. But are you really sure about this?
Velesa smiled.
"It won't be easy, but I'd like to try. And if I do become Crown Princess someday—helping the elves, supporting and developing this beloved home of ours—wouldn't that make for a truly wonderful life?"
A laugh escaped me.
―I'd say you're more than qualified to be queen.
"Thank you for your kind words."
They weren't just kind words, you know.
Velesa and the Crown Prince had departed.
Or rather, they were probably still in the middle of their farewell send-off. The edge of the village lay beyond my sight, so I had no way of knowing how far they'd gone.
As I gazed at the scenery of the forest, the Water Drop Girl, who had gone out to see them off, came drifting back.
―Has everyone left?
The little girl nodded with a smile.
So they really were gone.
Somehow it left me feeling wistful—happy and hollow at once.
I'd assumed we'd all go on chattering together in the village forever, but it turns out people do leave, after all.
Well, that is simply the way of the world.
Perhaps she'd sensed my mood, because the Water Drop Girl flew up onto my branches and hugged me tight, rubbing her cheek against me as if to say, I'm still here.
That's right. I still had you two.
I let out a soft laugh.
―How was it, staying with the Crown Prince all this time? I noticed you two were sneaking off to do something—did it go well?
The Water Drop Girl suddenly seemed to remember something and zipped back off the way she'd come.
―Did she leave something behind?
I asked casually, glancing over—and there was the Pebble Girl, feigning sleep while sneaking sidelong glances at the departing water sprite. She shifted once, then went right back to pretending.
Pebble seems to be the introverted type.
She loves her own quiet solitude when she sleeps, but even her thoughts, it seems, she prefers to keep to herself rather than express to others.
Considering she taught herself to read without breathing a word of it to anyone, she seems to have her own firm standards about many things.
I waited, and the water drop came back—with a crudely made little wooden bed balanced on her head.
The wooden bed was set down on the grass.
―Where did that come from?
Water paintings sketched themselves into the air before me.
I saw the Crown Prince at his studies, and beside him the Water Drop Girl, pondering and poring over this and that. Then she'd spotted a bed, had a revelation, and thrown herself into bed-making.
From a realm beyond my sight, she'd sawed down forest trees and copied Velesa's handiwork to weave cloth for the bedding—the whole crafting process unfolded before me in illustrated steps.
―Whoa? You made that?
The Water Drop Girl nodded, brimming with pride.
Then she flew over to her sister and poked—poke, poke, poke—at the Pebble Girl, who was hurriedly squeezing her eyes shut in fake sleep.
Pebble hesitated, then cracked one eye open. The water-hued girl beamed and pointed at the bed. Pressing her palms together beside her tilted head in the universal gesture of sleep, she pointed at the bed again.
The Pebble Girl went blank.
A watery hand reached out, pulled Pebble up, and gave her a shove between the shoulder blades—go on, try the bed the World Tree gave you!
But the Pebble Girl didn't budge. She just stood there, rooted to the spot, staring only at the bed. Her trembling fingers fidgeted with the grass-blade crown atop her head.
The Water Drop Girl tilted her head, bewildered, half-blocking her sister's fixed gaze—then seemed to understand, giggled her bright kyaruruk, and wrapped her little sister in a tight hug.
Tiny lips fluttered, silently passing along their message.
I love you so much. As much as you love me, I love you too.
Two pairs of arms embraced each other. And the Pebble Girl, clutching her sister close, sobbed and sobbed.
A breeze stirred, tickling the grass-blade crown.
The Pebble Girl lay down on the wooden bed.
For an instant, a perfectly honest impression—this sleeping surface is terrible—flashed across her face, but the pebble hastily tucked it away and summoned a look of gratitude instead.
Remember: with gifts, it's the thought that counts.
Objectively speaking, it was a shoddy wooden bed, uncomfortable beyond measure. The clumsily woven cloth failed utterly at being a bedsheet. It stood propped on furniture legs, lifted away from the ground—a catastrophic flaw for a pebble who loves nothing more than sleeping pressed against the earth. All in all, an utterly dreadful place to sleep. But still. It's the thought that counts.
The Water Drop Girl giggled, glowing with pride.
It was the satisfaction of someone who had sublimated her jealousy of her little sister into love.
Then, without warning, a message surfaced.
[The will to think, to struggle, and to decide transforms a life.]
Light bloomed from the Water Drop Girl.
Whoa?
The flustered little girl floated upward of her own accord, swallowed by the light.
Wind surged, moisture gathered and gathered into a current of water—and the current spun into a whirlpool, drawn inward and absorbed at its center.
[A spirit awakens within the being.]
The light faded.
Still bewildered, the Water Drop Girl plummeted straight down and landed flat on her backside. She wobbled like a spilled water drop before springing back into her girl-shaped form.
―Are you okay?
The water drop nodded, dazed.
―What just happened?
She shook her head. So even she doesn't know, huh.
―Do you feel any different?
The Water Drop Girl tilted her head, thought for a moment, then cupped her palms together.
As she concentrated, the moisture in the air gathered and gathered until it formed one very tiny water droplet.
Just a tiny droplet of gathered humidity, nothing more.
Whereas the Water Drop Girl was, in truth, a clump of liquid mana, this was a genuine clump of water, made of nothing but pure moisture.
And yet—astonishingly—the little clump shivered all on its own. It sprang clean out of her palms, escaped her grasp, and went bouncing merrily around the grass at its own whim.
Whoa? It's just a clump of moisture, but it's moving on its own.
―Are you controlling it?
The Water Drop Girl shook her head.
And the more she tried, the more self-moving droplets came into being.
Water droplets went hopping and bouncing all across the grassy clearing.
Whoaaaa?
What is this?
Creation of Water Spirits
Effect:Shape nature from water and grant it a will of its own. Grants an immense advantage in the utilization of nature — in exchange, discerning respect is demanded in return.
Whoaaaa?