The Young Tree Gets to Work (6)

"Lord Tree! The first shortlist for the sacred sites has been finalized!"

Thermia held out a stack of documents.

So apparently, after secretly getting tipsy and losing an entire day to a hangover, she was back in working shape today.

―Thank you for organizing these. I'll go through them one by one.

"Of course, take your time."

Thermia settled down onto the grass.

―You're going to wait? This might take a while, you know.

Merely eyeballing candidate sites was the easy part. After all, the domain where my miracles had spread was precisely the domain I could perceive.

But a building's location couldn't be judged by a fleeting glance.

Suppose you picked a spot with heavy foot traffic and cheap prices, only to find that the building right next door turned into a weekend haunt for self-proclaimed mercenaries the moment the shrine went up. That would be a serious problem.

Yes, that would be a really serious problem.

―By the way, what's the plan for shrine staffing?

"With our numbers limited, one priest per site, and two armed guards at each location."

―Will that be enough? It seems like an easy target for bandits, doesn't it?

If trouble actually broke out, the bandits would be the ones losing their loot while we kept our miracles intact—we'd have every advantage. But bladed weapons are lethal when they land wrong.

Thermia groaned in thought.

"Priest Dahlia told me the Theocracy runs its smaller temples the same way. Of course, we're elves, so I can't help worrying. Even in the city, we run into humans picking fights out of nowhere—will two guards really be enough?"

―You can't compare us to the Theocracy. Theirs is the one established religion of the land—even the most lawless bandit wouldn't dare touch them. Not out of fear of the Theocracy itself, but fear of its god.

"I suppose that's true. Ahh, the struggles of a newborn faith."

Thermia crossed her arms and grumbled. The Water Drop Girl perched on her head and mimicked her pose, groaning right along with her.

"Should we station water spirits at each shrine, then?"

―Wait, you were planning not to?

"Would it be all right to send spirits outside the forest?"

Hmm, that might be a bit risky. They'd be rare creatures wandering about. It did seem like an invitation for greedy eyes.

Shrines were open to any passing noble, after all. If someone decided the water spirits were a marvel and demanded we hand one over—or worse, sell one—handling it on the spot would be a nightmare.

Time to shift my perspective a little.

―Let's just request soldiers from the Lord's Castle. Cleaning up after miracle-related chaos is the territory's business too, after all.

We had always tried to manage everything on our own, village and all. It couldn't be helped—a village of nothing but elves couldn't exactly ask for help in a world ruled by humans.

Perhaps Elder Eldrin's emphasis on self-reliance came from the countless hardships he'd endured as an elf. I couldn't call that wrong, either.

But if we meant to step out into the wider world, we couldn't afford to be afraid of cooperating with our neighbors.

Besides, the Steward, the lord's own acting representative, had already told us to speak up whenever we needed help.

"Understood. I'll send the request."

Thermia rolled her eyes around for a moment, thinking. The Water Drop Girl on her head copied the expression perfectly.

"In that case, should we install all the shrines at once? We were originally planning a gradual rollout because of staffing shortages, but with the castle's soldiers helping, a simultaneous launch might work."

―What did Priest Dahlia say?

"She says a gradual approach is correct, because what matters is sending out priests rigorously trained in the faith. She's helping train new priests, but that still needs time."

Does it, now?

―Isn't that approaching things a little too... religiously?

"We are a religion?"

―That's not what I mean. I'm talking about that mindset of being too fixated on expanding the faith.

Thermia tilted her head.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, my lord."

―Sending out well-trained priests to spread the faith and win over a region, congregation by congregation—that's a very effective missionary strategy.

The Theocracy had expanded its religious territory exactly that way, all the way to religious victory. There was nothing wrong with adopting their playbook as-is.

―But our purpose is different, isn't it? We're not trying to grow our influence or swell our ranks of worshippers. We're trying to clean up the chaos our miracles have already caused.

Personally, I think our village is plenty. A village of elves pushed to the margins of human society—it's cozy and charming, honestly.

And it had already grown to near-city scale.

Word of the village had spread, migrating elves kept arriving, and the population had climbed past a thousand and was now approaching two thousand. Our village alone already had more souls to look after than we could comfortably manage.

Was there really any need to expand further?

I was already satisfied.

―We don't need to manage the local faith the way you're describing, with a priest stationed at a shrine all day taking confessions and counseling the faithful. A priest can drop by a shrine now and then, check on how the miracles are doing, and head back to a major hub shrine. That's all we need.

Though I suppose even a priestless shrine would need the castle's soldiers stationed there to keep order.

―There's no need to pour ourselves into faith management like the Theocracy does. Let's not build these things slowly and solemnly, like grand temples. Let's just put up our shrines all at once, with a light heart.

Like setting up administrative offices.

"Oh, of course! You're absolutely right, Lord Tree!"

The light of understanding dawned on Thermia's face.

"We never needed to chase after human worshippers in the first place! If they're the ones coming to us, why should we be the ones sweating over it?"

Hold on, that's not quite the nuance I was going for.

"Our position is entirely different from the Theocracy's, which can work no miracles at all. With tangible miracles unfolding before their eyes day after day, do you really think humans won't believe, even without faithful priests slowly winning them over through diligent counseling?"

Thermia was getting fired up now.

"Until now, the source of the miracles has been unclear, but once these shrine installations let us claim them properly, our influence is bound to grow. Just as you say—we shouldn't follow the Theocracy's feeble precedent. This is the moment to trust in your miracles, Lord Tree, and rapidly expand the territory of our faith!"

Th-that's... I never said any of that.

My whole point was that our village was enough.

"I simply must share this with everyone!"

―Uh, sure.

And off she went, buzzing with excitement.

Well, how do I put this.

I don't know anymore. Nope.

I went back to reviewing the shrine candidate sites.

The Mana Stone Orchard Mine was fully planned out.

Mines are, at their core, profoundly artificial. Anything built on human engineering could never be otherwise.

Ore, after all, doesn't exist for humans to dig up.

In that respect, my position here differed greatly from the Four Seasons Orchard.

Fruit exists so that beasts will eat it and spread the seeds. Even when humans harvest the fruit, they're simply following nature's cycle—it doesn't violate the natural order in any way.

Mining ore, though, has nothing to do with nature's cycles.

To shed a mine's artificiality, you'd have to transcend human craft entirely and touch nature itself.

The idea came to me from the Natural Circulation Method.

The method harnesses the cycle of sky, plant, and earth.

Dew falls from the sky, passes through plants, seeps into the ground, is drawn back up by their roots, and returns to the sky through their leaves.

And if, at the plant stage, you politely ask nature's permission and take a little mana for yourself—that is the Natural Circulation Method.

So couldn't the same principle be applied to a mana stone mine?

A mana stone is what remains when the mana of the sky settles into the earth.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It was also something destined, in time, to follow the law of circulation—leaving the soil and returning to the sky. Over tens of millions of years, slowly dissipating.

But if it's going to leave the earth eventually, what difference does it make if it leaves a little early?

Just as the mana within dew wets the soil and returns to the sky by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way of plants—couldn't the mana stones deep underground return to the sky through plants as well?

And couldn't we, at that plant stage, ask permission and harvest the mana stones?

Ordinarily, no. By everything I knew, plants don't grow by eating rock. The loop of the cycle couldn't even be formed.

But a miracle earns its name precisely by making the impossible possible.

And I figured it would work.

First, I opened a conversation with the plants growing over the mana stone deposits.

―Want to eat minerals?

When I first broached the subject, I didn't get any positive replies.

In my defense, yes, I may have phrased it oddly. How many plants in this world dream of snacking on ore, after all.

So I rephrased.

―Are there any magnificent plants out there who'd like to become extraordinary beings capable of eating minerals? If so, wave your leaves for me. Branches work too.

A great many plants responded.

Everything from ordinary weeds to sturdy trees and the autumn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flowers still stubbornly in bloom.

Narrowing down the candidates practically became a full day's work.

―This won't do. Everyone, introduce yourselves. I'll only be selecting plants with both the talent and the life story worthy of becoming magnificent mineral-eating plants.

After listening to a great deal of heartfelt self-presentation, the fruit trees were chosen.

Life had grown hard for the wild fruit trees lately.

Because of the Elf Village's indiscriminate hunting, the animals who would eat their fruit and spread their seeds had dwindled dramatically.

And the elves weren't diligently eating the wild fruit in their place, either.

Why would they, when the miraculously delicious fruits of the Holy Land were on offer? The wild trees would bear their fruit only to see it left to rot. Unimproved fruit simply couldn't compete on taste.

To strive for a full year and be discarded without reward—that was reason enough to want to save them from such a life.

After thorough individual consultations, the final selections were made.

"What exactly are you planning to do?"

Thermia asked, blinking blankly.

―I'm going to turn the mana stone deposit into a Holy Land.

"We had a mana stone deposit in our village?!"

―Yep.

Thermia's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

―More importantly, warn the villagers to stay alert. Something will be happening, though I can't say for certain what. Oh—and don't mention the mana stones. No point stirring up needless commotion.

Something as expensive as mana stone would need its location kept under control, I figured.

"Understood!"

―Once things have settled down, come out to the deposit site alone. I'll need to check that it worked.

"Yes, my lord!"

With Thermia dispatched, I turned my full attention to the deposit.

I had already poured out all the intent I needed. All that remained was to set the change in motion.

Suddenly, my branches felt a little stiff.

Nerves, I suppose. Can't be helped.

The living fruit trees felt it too—they were far more cautious than before.

―Is everyone ready? Any tree wanting to back out, now's the time—just shake your branches.

Not a single tree withdrew.

So I was the only one who needed to steel myself, huh.

I looked toward the village. Thermia had everyone settled, all of them gripping the wooden buildings.

All right. Here we go.

I poured my intent into the deposit.

Light erupted. Pillars of radiance surged skyward from every direction.

And within that light, the fruit trees began ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to transform, all at once.

Their roots shot downward in an instant, boring into the deep earth and staking out their domain. The roots pushed aside soil, split rock, and at last touched the mana stones.

Fine rootlets coiled around the stones and asked them: you mana that is someday destined for the sky—do you truly mean to linger in the earth any longer?

Persuaded, the mana began, little by little, to be absorbed.

Traveling up through root, trunk, and branch, the mana came to understand the lives of the fruit trees—and took form as their fruit.

Mana stones, shaped like fruit, hung gleaming above the ground.

Sunlight poured down.

The ore-fruit blazed brilliantly.

A message appeared before me.