Homecoming (8)
A week had passed since our return to the village.
Sister Mary and Priest Daniel adapted to village life with surprising speed. Sister Mary, though not particularly outgoing, won over the village housewives with her exceptional cooking. The local fare had always been simple and limited in variety, but her arrival expanded the repertoire considerably. When she freely shared the recipes she knew, her standing among the women rose of its own accord.
Priest Daniel, for his part, was naturally sociable. He struck up easy friendships with the Instructor and the members of the self-defense force, and while building the stables he grew close to the village men as well.
And that was hardly all. Daniel made no effort to conceal his identity—he approached the villagers openly as a priest, healing their wounds with Holy Magic and giving the children rides on horseback. Impressive enough on its own, yet he went further still.
Anyone who wished to learn, child or adult, found in him a willing teacher. He taught them to read. He taught them the doctrines of the Church…
"Daniel seems awfully busy."
He had gone out again the moment breakfast was finished. What had he said again…?
I have something to teach the children today.
Something like that?
Honestly, both of them had settled in far better than I had expected.
"It may well be his true calling," Sister Mary said. The Daniel she had known was crude and shamelessly fond of women—but that same nature had also meant he knew a great many people. That gift for connection, it seemed, was serving him just as well in a foreign place.
"What will you do today, Julian?"
"I'm not sure."
A week back in the village, and I had been living rather lazily. Or perhaps it was fairer to say I had simply returned to being an ordinary village girl. At dawn, a bit of light training and exercise. In the morning, a casual patrol of the village. At midday, a little help with whatever work needed doing. In the evening, an early bed.
Alchemy? I had idly considered what I might craft while out on patrol, but that was as far as it went.
"I really have been too idle lately."
Maybe I should visit the Forest of Delusion. Or make a trip out to the border base…
I considered it, then decided I couldn't be bothered. Today, I would simply read.
It was a field guide I had already read dozens of times—worn soft from handling, the pages fraying at the edges. I knew every word by heart, and still I kept returning to it.
"Hmm…"
Perhaps I ought to look through it once more before heading into the Forest of Delusion.
The moment I opened the book, something tumbled out.
"Huh?"
I recognized it at once. Seeds from that delicious fruit.
I had eaten it with my sister and set the seeds aside, thinking we might plant them in the village. I remembered tucking them between the pages to keep them dry.
"I'd completely forgotten about these."
I examined the seeds with care. Fortunately, none had rotted or grown mold. They might still take root.
Well. Now I had something to do today.
I studied the seeds, turning over how best to plant them. There were two approaches.
The first was to germinate the seeds first, then plant the sprouts. The second was to sow them as they were and simply wait. The difference was not dramatic, but germination rates favored the former by a considerable margin.
"Given how few seeds I have, sprouting them first seems like the right call…"
Though the process itself was rather tedious.
"Are those seeds?"
Sister Mary appeared while I was still fretting over them.
"Yes. From a fruit I enjoyed. I set them aside to plant and only just remembered."
"I see."
She offered a warm smile.
"I'm just not sure how best to grow them."
"Even if you do plant them, won't it take years?"
Right. That was the other problem. Germinating the seeds and putting them in the ground would be easy enough. But how long until they actually grew?
"I don't even know if I'll still be here that long. That's what's bothering me."
"Then why not speak with the villagers about it?"
Was that the way? Fruit trees would benefit the village, certainly… but there were so few seeds, and proper fruit would take so long…
"You're right. I should."
I made ready and went out, then found my sister and showed her the seeds.
"I'd forgotten about these."
"Yeah. I only found them again today."
Father took an interest, so I explained—and his reaction was decidedly mixed.
"Fruit trees, is it…"
"Yes. They tasted quite good."
"They'll take a long time to grow, I expect?"
"At least three or four years."
That was the usual span from planting to first harvest.
"A bit of a gamble, then."
"Is it?"
"Even if every last seed takes, you'd have maybe ten trees."
"That's true."
"And three or four years from now—how much fruit do you suppose those trees would bear?"
What he meant was whether the harvest could ever serve as a real food source for the village. If the yield was meager, the labor spent watering and fertilizing them for years would be a waste. And even if the crop proved decent, it still wouldn't compare to the grain from wheat or barley grown two or three times a year.
"…You have a point."
"There's more. I've heard fruit trees need help from insects to bear anything at all."
I hadn't thought of it until Father said so—but the moment the words left his mouth, knowledge from my previous life surged up unbidden.
Pollination.
For a tree to flower and set fruit, it needed to be pollinated. And for that, it needed help—wind, bees, birds, or else a person doing the work by hand.
"Ah—is that so?"
I played at ignorance. Truthfully, I really hadn't noticed until now.
"Well, you brought them back. No harm in planting them."
Even if they never bore fruit, he added with casual ruthlessness, a well-grown tree could always be cut for timber.
"What should we do?"
"Just plant them in the forest."
My sister offered a peculiar solution.
"The forest?"
"Mm. The trees that grow there already bear fruit."
That was true enough. We had gathered fruit from the forest ourselves.
"Just let them grow on their own."
Her idea was simple: note the location, and if fruit appeared, pick it and eat it.
"…That's actually not bad."
Once the decision was made, my sister and I set out for the Forest of Delusion at once. Drawing on Holy Magic and raw strength, we moved quickly and reached the forest in under half an hour.
"Where should we plant them?"
Somewhere sunny with a bit of open ground would be ideal… but I didn't deliberate long. Searching for the perfect spot grew tiresome, so I simply planted the seeds along the forest's outer edge.
"This should do."
Turning the earth with magic made the planting almost effortless.
"Mm."
And since we were already in the Forest of Delusion, perhaps a bit of foraging was in order? We hadn't brought baskets, but still…
His foolish confession had spread through the entire manor.
He knew it was inevitable, and still it mortified him. Had the confession succeeded, there would have been nothing to be ashamed of—but he had been rejected, and that made the whole affair exquisitely humiliating.
To confess so publicly, in front of so many people… He had simply been too impatient.
And being turned down had only deepened the wound.
What truly tormented him, though, was that the news had reached his family. His mother, the Baroness, regarded him with a look of pure pity. She said nothing, yet her eyes—eyes that seemed to ask what kind of man he was supposed to be—drove a spike straight through his heart.
His father had cursed him outright.
But the blow that cut deepest came from his younger sister.
"Are you an idiot?"
He had never imagined that sweet, innocent face could produce such a vicious insult. The shock was considerable.
"Who confesses like that? Who does it out in the open in front of everyone?"
Being a woman herself, she seemed to feel the secondhand embarrassment all the more keenly.
"I know. I know I made a mess of it."
Still—was it really necessary to pile on someone who had only just been rejected?
He wanted time to gather himself. The problem was that time was not something he had.
"You march the day after tomorrow."
The order came from his father, Baron and lord of the territory. He had been preparing for it already. He had only been nursing a small wound—a very small one—to his pride.
"Yes, sir. Leave it to me."
He would ride out before the hurt had even begun to heal. And yet he found himself almost grateful.
At the very least, once he left the manor, no one would be there to dig their fingers into the wound…
On the day of departure, ranks of soldiers stood behind him.
Ten knights, fifty cavalry, a hundred and fifty infantry—a force of respectable size. As its commander, he would lead them to the border.
"Not too heavy a burden?"
He shook his head at his father's question. He had been educated at the Academy and schooled in a knight's bearing by the man himself. But this would be his first time commanding actual troops.
Even so, he felt no fear. If anything, his fighting spirit was boiling over. He needed a legitimate target for the anger still smoldering inside him—a sandbag he could strike without guilt.
And though she had rejected him, he had sworn to protect her.
This was for her sake.
With his heart settled, he led the force toward their destination: the border base.
"We march!"
Including the supply train, the column numbered well over four hundred.
Along the road to the border they cleared the surrounding area as they went, scouting as they traveled. In the process they discovered crude installations that appeared to have been left by the barbarians.
What unsettled him most of all…
"So the traces really do show use within the last half year?"
"Yes, sir!"
He had learned tracking as a knight, but never in any serious depth—other disciplines had always taken priority. He had another knight confirm the findings, and the conclusion was the same.
"No time to waste, then."
This barbarian incursion would not end in simple raiding. Of that he was increasingly certain.
All the more reason to reach the border and prepare.
The march, originally planned for ten days, was compressed to eight. They arrived at the border base ahead of schedule.
The base—normally a place for training green recruits—now carried a razor edge of tension, fear coexisting with readiness.
So this was his charge…
It would be difficult. But he would see it done.
And then he suffered a shock.
Why on earth was she here?