The Sapling That Judges (2)
A crow cawed somewhere in the distance.
"Ugh... cleaning up the bodies is harder than fighting them was."
Thermia grimaced as she stared down into the corpse pit. Slave traders' bodies had been tossed in and were piling up layer by layer.
"But if we leave them, disease will spread, so we can't exactly skip it. Tree God, you always say death 'returns to nature,' don't you? Is there really no way to just send these bodies back to nature on their own?"
―If you leave them alone, they do return to nature. An epidemic would be a terrible tragedy, but from nature's point of view, it's simply the normalization of an animal species that overpopulated a single region. The corpses rot and feed the plants, the plants feed the herbivores — it's just a cycle.
"...I never imagined you'd say something like that. I'll just honestly clean them up, then."
―An admirable decision.
Thermia picked up a shovel and filled in the pit alongside the other elves.
The engagement with the slave trader alliance had ended more easily than expected. The traders had never imagined an outside force would crash into them, and the moment we struck their rear, their camp collapsed in an instant.
Then, true to form for such a flimsy alliance, they scattered in utter panic. It wasn't so much a battle as a manhunt — most of our time and effort through the small hours went into running down and cutting off the fleeing slavers.
The night was long gone, and now we were cleaning up the bodies in the morning sun.
Looking back on it, what a punishing march this had been. No rest, scaling a cliff to charge into battle, hunting fleeing slave traders until dawn, and now clearing corpses without a wink of sleep.
Unlike our hardworking self-defense force, the east village elves — the very people this was all for — had been dead asleep for hours. If they wanted to wake up and talk with us, it would probably be well past noon.
"Whew! Done! Good work, everyone."
Thermia set down her shovel and gave a small yawn, rubbing her eyes with her hand.
"Even with Tree God's miracles working on us, I still get a little tired."
―Part of that is probably the fatigue you all built up working in the village. I replenish your strength and ease your weariness, but the human body and mind can't be sustained by miracles alone. Everyone's been sleeping far too little lately.
"I suppose so?"
Thermia alone was proof enough — she was so delighted that her house sat within my domain that staying up nearly all night devouring religious texts had become routine for her.
When morning came she inspected the farm, heard grievances from the farmers using the sanctuary, studied the assignments Paelian had given her, then dove back into her religious books. Busy from dawn to dusk. No wonder her body and mind were frayed.
―When we get back, how about the village pushes for enforced sleep hours?
"If even Tree God insists on it, I can feel the necessity."
Thermia mulled it over as she headed toward the temporary camp to rest. Then her eyes lit up.
"How about everyone gets one proper night of sleep every four days? That hardly seems like overdoing it at all!"
Whaaat? Why is that the unit? That's overdoing it enormously!
Thermia seemed suddenly struck by a happy thought, clapping her hands together and humming to herself.
"Actually, why not make diligence and industriousness the foundation of the faith? It'd suit us elves wonderfully, don't you think?"
―I mean, I'm not particularly hardworking myself. Is that really okay?
"We can explain it like this!"
Thermia put on a solemn expression.
"The Sacred Tree delights in tranquility and abundance, and thus we elves bear the sacred duty to be diligent and industrious in its service."
You're just making things up wholesale.
"That's actually a decent idea."
Paelian the Teacher came striding over, arms full of papers. Remarkably, he had endured that punishing march and kept up with us.Granted, the village chief had carried him on his back for part of it, but he'd made it, and that was what counted.
"Religious teachings have always existed to contribute to a nation's prosperity. Diligence is a classic precisely because it works."
The more he spoke, the more he seemed pleased with the idea, sinking into thought.
"And it aligns perfectly with the miracles the Sacred Tree bestows — that makes it genuinely effective. There's even a sanctuary right at the workplace for prayer. Thermia, draw up a plan around this."
"Yes, sir."
Um. I'm that Sacred Tree you keep mentioning, so why does it feel like I'm the only one not included in this discussion? Or is that just my imagination?
I had plenty to say, but it seemed churlish to nitpick people who were working so hard.
―Did the persuasion of the village go well? Are they all going to move to our village?
"Quite a few of their leadership died, so they haven't managed to form a unified opinion yet. But we've built considerable common ground."
A hand gestured toward the far side of the camp.
"Slave traders banding together to target a village long-term is no small matter. Normally the nearby city would send troops as punishment, but none have come — and the fact that the traders never once worried about their rear during the fight suggests connections were being made behind the scenes."
Ah, I see.
To put it crudely, this kingdom was structured with cities scattered across the fiefdoms and villages forming around each of them. The lord's castle administered the cities, the cities administered the villages. And it seemed the city with jurisdiction over this area had been indulging its greed behind closed doors.
"From what I hear, the city bureaucrat here is extremely friendly to the slave trade and means to revive the city through the slave market. With the elf village nearby growing, he apparently aimed for a massive supply of slaves. No wonder those slavers, who can never agree on anything, allied so easily. As expected."
Wow. That's harsh.
Even granting that a village full of only elves looked like easy prey — scheming to sacrifice an entire village whole on the altar of urban development? How very human-supremacist of them.
"So persuading the village leadership to relocate was easy enough. But since this isn't something to shout about publicly, convincing the villagers themselves is beyond my strength alone."
Paelian turned to Thermia.
"Is the speech coming along well?"
Thermia stiffened.
"Yes! I've been working hard on it."
"Hard work won't be enough. Tree God, might you assist her?"
―That was the plan anyway.
"Understood. Then I'll prepare with confidence. I must go settle the spoils of war now, so if you'll excuse me."
Paelian hurried off with his bundle of papers. What a busy man.
Thermia watched him go, then clutched her head.
"Aah! Will I really be able to do it? I've never given a speech in my life!"
―You've been preparing this whole time. You'll be fine.
The girl wrung her hands anxiously.
"You know, I've been thinking lately... everything I'm doing now feels like weighty work that doesn't suit a girl like me from some rural nowhere. Shouldn't a speech this important be given by an experienced city-bred elite, like the Teacher?"
Whoa, I feel an enormous wave of solidarity with you. Somehow, that's touching.
―I empathize completely.
I poured the words out quickly.
―I'm just a humble sapling from the back-hill woods, but everyone worships me as the Sacred Tree, and the role and the reality just don't match. Lies piling up never end well — shouldn't we hurry and correct the record?
Then you wouldn't have to feel burdened, either. A unanimous solution everyone could agree on.
But Thermia pretended not to have quite heard me. She struggled with herself a moment longer, then let her shoulders slump.
"Still, dwelling on these worries doesn't accomplish much, does it. I'd better focus on preparing the speech. It's a shame I'll have to give it without being able to show everyone your majestic and holy form, Tree God."
Setting aside the fact that my request was being ignored in real time — surely there was some way I could help. I should think about the stage play with her.
A certain middle-aged elf woman had come looking for her son.
Unlike elves who typically devoted themselves to the hunt, this elf had committed herself to farming, and at last she owned land of her own, wanting for nothing in life. The human farmers in her village kept pressuring her to sell, which was a burden — but the kingdom's laws weren't quite vicious enough to strip an elf of land by force, and so the woman's long-cherished dream had been to leave her only son a solid foundation and pass away in peace.
Then one day, an event occurred that dealt a catastrophic blow to that life plan.
Her son had run away from home, declaring that he refused to be a farmer.
The boy had always been clever and quick-witted, and she had already been agonizing over whether farming was too humble a calling for him — but she never imagined he would bolt on his own.
She shed tears for a few days, but a child who had left carrying grand ambitions — that he would go to the royal capital, study, succeed, and return — was not a child to grieve over endlessly. Trusting that such a good head would find a place to study hard and perhaps become someone important, the woman poured herself into her fields.
And then one day.
She heard a rumor that instead of studying, the boy had taken up thieving.
Not petty theft, either — apparently he'd become a full professional, making a name for himself as one of a famous trio of robbers.
The woman verified the rumor twice more, then clutched the back of her neck and collapsed.
The gall of this child — if you must steal, at least rob human houses! Raiding the homes of your fellow elves and letting the whole countryside hear about it — what is wrong with you?
A woman principled enough to choose farming while everyone else hunted was not one to stop at clutching her neck and collapsing. She set out to catch the boy herself.
He was said to be operating somewhere in this region, so she checked the nearby villages and made her way to this one, where the elves had gathered.
She had no intention whatsoever of settling here. Not at all.
True, the relentless pressure from the human farmers made her wonder whether she should just sell off that wretched plot of land and move away entirely — but the woman was no fool, and she would never sink roots in an unstable village made up of elves alone.
Hadn't the problem just presented itself — a village of only elves, looking soft and easy, and a slave trader alliance coming to attack it?
The other elves, whom she'd grown close to because they too were trapped inside the siege, wholeheartedly agreed with her. The moment the slavers' encirclement lifted, everyone would simply leave. No settling, no relocating.
In truth, the middle-aged elf woman was exhausted in body and spirit from the siege. Her husband, who had come along to help catch their son, had gone missing in the alliance's first assault, and the future felt suddenly shapeless. She didn't even know if she could hold her land against the human farmers once she returned.
She had wanted to see her son's face again, if nothing else — but no matter how she asked around, he clearly wasn't anywhere near here. The thief trio's movements had grown vague and hard to trace long ago. Her son, heedless of his mother's heart, had apparently changed his residence.
If she searched further, she supposed she could go as far as that elf village tucked away in the deep forest to the east. But as a mother, she held one firm belief: even a son who'd been humbled by reality's walls and turned to thievery after boasting of studying in the capital would not stay in some suspicious village that worshipped a tree.
The boy in her memory had been that clever. That sensible.
The elves she'd grown close to had shared her view, urging her to give up the search for now and travel together with them. What meaning was there in the years left to a woman who'd lost both husband and son? Still, that seemed the best path available.
And then, today, those same friends abruptly reversed their opinions, and the woman was utterly bewildered.
"Weren't we all in agreement that seriously worshipping a tree is insane? Why is everyone acting like this all of a sudden?"
"Because it's not just some tree, that's why! You were out cold after taking that rock to the head, ma'am, so you missed it — the night sky suddenly lit up broad as noon, and— hey? Strength came flooding back into a body about to faint, and— hey!"
"That's right! And if that's not a miracle, what is it? We were wrong all along! Even if it is far, there's nothing wrong with going to see for ourselves whether it's a good place to settle!"
Her close friends had gone collectively insane.
It felt like only yesterday they'd all agreed that suspicious village was best avoided entirely — how was she supposed to process such a sudden about-face?
Something must have happened during the battle, then. She guessed that everyone's thinking had shifted on the giddy high of winning a battle they'd been losing, thanks to the relief force.
The woman was deeply grateful for the help, but not thoughtless enough to set foot in such a suspicious village. When the girl who called herself the Sacred Tree's proxy stood up to give her speech, everyone wept over their hardships and their joys, but the woman listened alone, calmly.
Watching the girl steady and comfort more than two hundred people without trembling, she did find herself wondering what on earth kind of village raised a girl that composed — but no, she still wasn't going.
Then, without warning, the speaking girl turned her gaze toward the empty air.
A hush fell. As the crowd's attention sharpened, the girl smiled brightly.
"The Sacred Tree has spoken. It will meet you all in person."
What did that mean?
Hadn't they said the worshipped tree was in a forest far away?
In that instant, an immense will settled over the space. A pressure like a hand pressing down on their shoulders came upon everyone.
Inhale, and the mind that could see me. Exhale, and the senses that could feel me.
Around the bow-shaped clearing, a miracle unfolded.
The will became an image, and frail souls were swept along before it.
The landscape around them transformed in a heartbeat. The chaotic scene of a village scarred by battle vanished, and a verdant forest unrolled before them. Wind blew, stirring the canopy that covered the sky. Countless leaves sang of nature and praised life, and the sky rang out, making a language of it.
―Everyone dizzy? This was my first attempt, so I'm worried it didn't go well. If anyone finds the sensations unpleasant, please don't hesitate to raise your hand.
No one raised a hand.
What should we call a being that does, with utter composure, what no living person could do?
The Tree delighted in neither pretense nor ornament. And so they simply called it, rightly, the Sacred Tree.
The middle-aged elf woman, who had maintained her irreverent attitude to the very end, felt her mind dissolve into a haze.
That was... no mere tree.