The Living Young Tree (1)
"What's going on?"
Thermia hurried over with Priest Dahlia at her side.
"Are you the one responsible for all this? As the envoy of the Holy Kingdom, I have come to hold you accountable for distorting a miracle—Dahlia? Whatever are you doing here?"
The male priest faltered mid-sentence.
Priest Dahlia turned to Thermia at once and asked for her understanding.
"We will sort things out between ourselves first, and then pay you a proper visit."
"Yes, of course. Please do."
The male priest and his retinue withdrew without protest.
Once they were gone, Thermia turned to the Thief Trio.
"Now, what on earth happened?"
The Big Brother Thief waved his hands frantically, looking green around the gills.
"Don't even get me started. The miracle that the Tree bestowed upon us—"
"The Young Tree," Thermia corrected.
That distinction matters a great deal, you know.
"Ah, ahem. I got it right in front of the humans, and now I go and slip up like this."
The Big Brother Thief shot a furtive glance up at me, half-hidden behind the sky, then spoke slowly, as if his jaw had come unhinged.
"The miracle the Young Tree bestowed upon us—those bastards just up and stole it, claiming it came from their Sun God. Now, there's thieving that's fair game and thieving that ain't, and I swear, those Holy Kingdom folk are creative in ways nobody asked for."
"Honestly—they're experiencing the miracle with their own eyes even as we speak, and instead of feeling grateful to the Young Tree, they're spinning delusions like that?"
Thermia let out an awkward laugh. She'd been about to tear into the Holy Kingdom, but mindful of Dahlia's dignity, she pivoted to complaining about something else entirely.
"I suppose it's just how humans are."
Wha—? That's your conclusion?
"Humans are always like this, aren't they? The moment they can't have something, they'd rather wreck it out of spite. Look at how they rationalize slavery—most of them are exactly like that."
"Ha! Well said, missy, well said indeed. That's humans for you. Why d'you think we only ever robbed their houses and nothing else? Those stingy bastards would chase you to the very ends of the earth."
"Big Brother, that comparison doesn't quite work."
"Eh? It doesn't?!"
After witnessing a fully legalized slave market in operation—and carrying out a little act of terrorism against it, at that—the village's overall opinion of humanity had taken a rather sharp turn for the worse.
I'd like to say not all humans are like that, but still.
Legalizing the slave trade and running it as legitimate commerce is honestly indefensible. Elf slaves in human kingdoms have nowhere to voice their grievances, not even a whisper.
Curious what kind of conversation the Holy Kingdom priests—who religiously sanctify that very trade—might be having, I shifted my awareness their way.
The Holy Kingdom delegation arrived at the inn where Priest Dahlia was staying.
The male priest dismissed his attendants to the corridor and sank into a chair. The wooden frame groaned under his weight.
"Dahlia. What are you doing here?"
Perhaps they were old acquaintances, because his earlier arrogance had faded into something almost ordinary.
"I heard news of a miracle from the Lord's Castle and came to ascertain the truth of it."
Priest Dahlia smiled.
"Well, that's convenient. What do you make of it? A mere tree plundering the miracles our Sun God bestows—rarely has there been a more blasphemous case."
The male priest's face was set hard as stone. He looked utterly grave.
Whaaat? He actually believes that?
Truthfully, looking at it as a disinterested third party, I could see why he might.
A conspicuous miracle had descended. Was it the work of a god worshipped by a religion with centuries of history behind it and a string of holy wars won? Or the work of some nameless tree in a backwater forest no one had ever heard of?
Obviously, believing it was the Sun God's miracle was the rational conclusion. The Sun God presides over every place the sunlight touches, so there was nothing inherently wrong with that logic.
Then again.
If you're going to think at all, maybe you shouldn't just put your faith in the tree on the hill behind town.
"Whether it's plunder or not."
Priest Dahlia smiled an enigmatic little smile. She turned her head and gazed out the window. Beyond the far reaches of that sky, the Sacred Young Tree flaunted its verdant crown.
The male priest hesitated.
"...It is, admittedly, very large. Mm. Truly. But really, what nonsense is this."
The conversation lapsed for a moment.
The priest seemed to be wrestling with a thought: the world is full of trees, yes, but if one grew to an absurd size like that, couldn't it house something divine? He knew that as a priest of the Holy Kingdom he was obligated to deny it outright—and yet, at that size, wasn't it stranger to insist it was ordinary? His expression betrayed the struggle.
"Why is that thing so large?"
"When I asked the villagers, they answered that it is because it is the Sacred Young Tree."
"What kind of non-answer is that."
The male priest mulled it over, then shook his head roughly. He met her eyes.
"More importantly, Dahlia—have you heard the news from this kingdom's royal capital?"
"I have not. Has something happened?"
"Something enormous."
The male priest leaned in close and lowered his voice.
"That wretch of a Crown Prince appeared wielding a sacred sword that shines like sunlight, and bested the King in a duel. And afterward, the story he told—that the sword was not bestowed by the Sun God, but given to him by some enormous tree."
"Could that tree be...?"
Wordlessly, both their gazes drifted to the window.
The colossal tree was very green.
Yu-hu. Yes, that was me.
The male priest dragged a hand down his face.
"Thanks to that, the temple has been in an uproar. We kept arranging chances for someone to approach the Crown Prince and correct the record, but he would not retract a single word."
Priest Dahlia fell deep into thought.
"So you have come instead to hold this village accountable?"
"For the crime of plundering a miracle."
The priest murmured it, then hesitated. He rose, quietly closed the wooden window, and sat back down.
His expression eased considerably as he spoke.
"A mere tree could never work a miracle. What happened is that the Crown Prince stumbled upon the Sun God's miracle before anyone else and blasphemously pinned a tree's name to it, hoping to erase the Holy Kingdom's influence."
Whoa. That's... actually plausible.
Our kingdom does not appreciate the Holy Kingdom meddling in its affairs.
But of course, a genuine miracle had to descend on royal territory, of all places.
From the throne's perspective, letting this lie would mean bracing for not only severed diplomatic ties but outright interference in domestic governance. The miracle was too vast and too undeniable to simply bury. So the suspicion that the crown means to fabricate a sacred puppet and bring the entire miracle under royal control is... entirely fair.
It really is convincing. Even I might believe it.
I understand now why conspiracy theories spread.
Frankly, this story is more reasonable than "the tree behind the local hill just did a miracle, that's all."
"What does the temple intend to do?"
"This is the King's own territory, so we cannot act rashly. For now, I've come as the representative to investigate the truth."
"And having come, what do you find? Does it look like royal blasphemy to you?"
"I've only just arrived—how would I know one way or the other."
Priest Dahlia gave a faint, ambiguous smile. She walked to the window and opened it. The tree filled her view.
Bathed in sunlight, she turned back.
"As I see it, that tree is indeed the one who worked the miracle."
"Priest Dahlia."
The male priest angled himself slightly away from the window.
"On what basis do you say such a thing?"
"I speak from what I have learned by coming here first and listening. Not a single falsehood exists in the villagers' testimonies, and the children's faces overflow with joy. That is a miracle."
"You're not merely believing it because the tree is big, are you?"
Priest Dahlia smiled gently.
"All things under heaven fall within the Sun God's dominion. Even if the tree worked a miracle, it would still be a miracle accomplished by the Sun God—so why deny it?"
Whoa? Is that how it works?
Her hand gestured toward me.
"Our Holy Kingdom has decayed by its own doing, and darkness has settled over the world. Now the Sun God sheds light upon that world through these witnessed miracles. This is a moment for us to awaken, lift our heads, and rise."
Is that so?
The male priest snorted.
"Ah, Dahlia. Here is where you're wrong. This village enjoys the secret patronage of a noble, and it has a record of raiding a perfectly lawful slave market. It has violated our most fundamental doctrine—how could this possibly be the Sun God's doing?"
"That is—"
Priest Dahlia tried to rebut him calmly, but the priest raised a hand to cut her off.
"Enough. Speaking as your old classmate, take my advice: leave this territory, and soon."
"What do you mean?"
"You know of the Count near here who spouts talk of abolishing slavery? With the eastern rebellion drawing the kingdom's eyes eastward, we intend to rally the neighboring lords in that window and teach them a lesson. That's the real reason I came here in person—this village aside."
Wha—? A secret plan like that?
I simply must tattle to the Count.
"A Territorial War will be fought, and chaos will spread all the way up to here, so flee in advance. I know you wish to deny the doctrine of slavery, but..."
The male priest clicked his tongue.
"That's nothing but your own stubborn obsession, you know? Don't go wandering about in the middle of a mess and catch a blade for it. Just leave."
Priest Dahlia smiled.
"Should a priest not remain beside her congregation, even in their hour of chaos?"
"You do talk a good game."
The priest let a flicker of irritation show and spread his arms wide.
"But not a soul on this earth is going to give you credit for it. Your life would be so much easier if you'd just accept a single doctrine—what exactly are you playing at?"
He braced a hand on his knee and heaved himself out of the chair. The wood, long crushed beneath his weight, creaked in protest.
"I've seen all I need of this village, so I'll take my leave. You should hurry and go as well."
"Go? You've finished already? Without even seeing the village?"
Priest Dahlia was taken aback.
The male priest snorted.
"You've told me plenty—I have more than enough for a report. Big or not, the temple has already ruled that the miracle was plundered. Anything beyond that is no concern of mine."
"You are perfectly capable of making that judgment on the ground yourself."
The male priest gave no answer and turned away.
"Once the Count is dealt with, this territory will be isolated. Then, with the aid of the faithful lords nearby, we can summon the Crusader Knights under the throne's unsuspecting nose. Leave before you're swept up in it."
Wha—? Whoa!
I really, truly must tattle to the Count. Right now.
"Borlidon? What on earth are you saying?!"
Priest Dahlia hurried forward and seized his arm.
"You came here to verify the miracle of this place. And now you would abandon that sacred duty—never confirming the truth with your own eyes—and summon the knights?!"
Borlidon turned, snorting.
"Priest Dahlia, this matter has been decided by the temple. It seems rather rich for someone who wanders about as she pleases to lecture me on duty."
"You could simply exercise your judgment here, on the spot!"
Borlidon stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, a laugh spilled out of him.
"Hahaha! How naive. You were always the top of our class, and I was always the one trailing behind—so how on earth did it come to this?"
Borlidon spread his arms as if to encompass the entire village.
"Priest Dahlia! What treasure do you imagine a destitute village like this could possibly offer me, that I should bother with any of it?!"
Priest Dahlia went blank.
Then, little by little, her throat tightened.
"God will not forgive you."
Borlidon smirked. He leaned his heavy bulk in and whispered at her ear.
"Has He ever, until now?"
Priest Dahlia's lips trembled.
A word of denial should have come—right then, on time. It did not.
Borlidon studied her for a moment, then turned away. But instead of leaving, he walked to the window and looked up at the enormous tree.
"Dahlia. If you truly wish to believe so badly, then very well—if, before I depart, a miracle occurs that even I cannot deny—then I suppose I could not say for certain that that indescribable, colossal tree was sent by the Sun God to teach us something."
Hm? Really?
The Sun God may not be listening, but I am. Is it really fine to make promises like that?
There is one thing I paused on, actually—a change I knew I would make eventually, but couldn't yet predict the shape of, so I'd been holding off while I worked it out.
I'm going to do it anyway, so why not right now?
Borlidon chuckled.
He turned back to Dahlia.
"But that will never happen, so—"
―Isn't this world far too beautiful for you to declare that so certainly?
Borlidon froze, his eyes bulging.
He whipped around in a panic.
In that instant, my will poured forth into everything.
Light burst from the entire landscape—from the whole village, from the whole forest.
Clusters of radiance surged skyward from every corner of the world.