Popcorn Brought the Spirit Tree Sprout!
"Father, you summoned me."
Alf stepped into the room.
The first prince, Alf, who looked exactly like his father, was beautiful as a painting.
"Yes, come here and sit down."
The Lomon King gave a light wave of his hand, beckoning him.
Once Alf had taken his seat, a servant set down beverages and quietly withdrew.
Alf was not what one could call outstanding, yet he was a son with no obvious shortcomings.
In scholarship, etiquette, language, conduct, and personality, he was smooth and balanced in every regard.
The king held no major complaints.
Still, he sometimes wondered if a touch more charisma might have been preferable.
If so, he would have named him crown prince without hesitation.
In some nations the crown prince was chosen by birth order.
In their Lomon Kingdom as well, the first prince born to the queen was usually the unspoken heir.
Yet they only used the title of crown prince publicly after the formal investiture ceremony.
Until then he was merely a prince.
Feeling a faint pang of disappointment in his son, the Lomon King softened his expression.
"Well then, how is the Saintess?"
"She is adjusting well."
The Lomon King quietly observed the way Alf spoke of the Saintess.
When she had first appeared, Alf had loathed her.
To a prince raised as the firstborn, the sight of a Saintess in revealing attire must have been an unimaginable shock.
Even though he had tried to hide his feelings, Alf’s revulsion had been plain to the king’s eyes.
Yet the Saintess herself seemed completely unaware of that disgust.
If she had been a noblewoman, she would have noticed even that level of aversion.
No matter how well one concealed it, emotions rooted deep could never be hidden entirely.
With enough time in each other’s company, she would have sensed it instinctively. Most people would.
It seemed the Saintess simply had a dull sensitivity to such things.
Which works in our favor.
The oracle had not originally descended upon their kingdom.
The divine message had landed in a small temple in the Legasria Kingdom.
All the priests there had apparently received the revelation at the exact same moment.
That temple stood near the border with the frontier lands currently being pioneered.
A bureaucrat who had visited the area on frontier business happened to learn of it and immediately sent word to the palace.
As spirits gradually vanished, their own temples had prayed to the gods for many long years without receiving any answer.
Magic circles existed in many countries, but summoning a Saintess required divine power.
No matter how excellent the circle or the priests, it was useless if the gods did not respond.
What were they to do?
Were they supposed to sit idly by while another nation summoned the Saintess?
When the Lomon King posed the question, most of the high priests had answered yes.
If the will of the gods rested in that small temple, there was nothing they could do.
The one who opposed them had been the High Priest.
He had persuaded the high priests that the gods’ true intention was to send the Saintess to this parched land, not merely to favor one temple in one country, and that summoning her first would not defy the divine will.
One priest had opposed to the very end, but the summoning of a Saintess was also a matter of honor for the temple that achieved it.
In the end they all yielded.
Of course, the High Priest had acted upon the king’s orders.
Recalling the High Priest’s face, the Lomon King smiled without realizing it.
The High Priest, too, was the king’s son, though not born to the queen.
Sent to the temple as a divine offering the moment he was born, he had nevertheless chosen to serve his father the king rather than the temple that raised him.
Thanks to that child, even the temple moved according to the king’s wishes.
Alf suddenly stopped speaking and smiled shyly.
He seemed to think the smile had been directed at him.
After all, he had been talking about his own fiancée.
"Father, it embarrasses me when you look at me that way."
His son was fond of his betrothed, Marguerite.
Well, Marguerite was a beautiful girl, so that was understandable.
Yet while Alf’s affection was clear, Marguerite’s feelings appeared rather different.
She seemed less enamored of Alf than actively averse to him.
Or perhaps she simply felt nothing at all.
Since she never showed it outwardly, Alf would not know.
But if one watched carefully, Marguerite displayed none of the behaviors a woman usually showed toward a man she favored.
Good bloodline, beautiful appearance, balanced personality—there is nothing to dislike.
What exactly was her complaint?
Even at his age, the heart of a woman remained a mystery.
The topic had drifted briefly to Marguerite before returning to the Saintess.
"However, Father, is the Saintess’s ability genuine?"
Alf asked with clear suspicion.
"Charming spirits and plundering them—I have never heard of such a bizarre power. I cannot help but wonder if she is lying."
"The Saintess spoke the truth."
The Lomon King declared it without hesitation.
One of his own abilities was the discernment of truth.
He could tell whether the other person was speaking truthfully, and if not, to what extent they were lying.
The Lomon King had used that power when he met the Saintess.
Her words had been almost entirely true.
Only the faintest trace of falsehood had been mixed in.
He had told no one about that part except the High Priest.
If the Saintess was willing to lie even about a small detail concerning her abilities, it was better that others not know.
Yet the king’s power had a flaw.
It could not tell him which part of the statement carried greater weight.
If she had spoken almost complete truth but altered one single crucial word, he would not notice.
Because of that weakness, the king rarely relied on the ability.
Used carelessly, it could distort his own judgment.
This time the words themselves had not been in their kingdom’s language, so he had had no choice.
Still, while soothing the doubtful Alf, the king quietly studied his son’s face.
"Are you growing close to the Saintess?"
"...Yes."
Alf made a faintly disgusted expression before answering.
The Saintess was a being sent by the gods.
If she claimed she wished to leave and ally with another country, it would become troublesome.
Should they go so far as to imprison her, other nations might invade under the pretext of rescuing her.
The Legasria Kingdom had already realized they had intercepted the oracle and dispatched an envoy.
They had naturally come to protest.
If they managed to contact the Saintess and tempt her, it would be disastrous.
The best solution would be to marry her to one of their own princes, but at present only Alf and the High Priest were suitable candidates.
Two other princes had been present at the summoning, yet the Saintess had not spared them a single glance.
The only ones who had caught her interest were Alf and the High Priest.
Until they found another candidate, these two would have to keep the Saintess’s heart tied to their kingdom.
"To become king, one must sometimes do things one does not wish to do."
At the king’s words, Alf quietly lowered his head.
"...."
The Lomon King felt a faint sense of unease at the sight.
His attitude seemed far more subdued than when they had spoken before.
Had his revulsion lessened somewhat?
It was exactly then that the chamberlain entered.
"Your Majesty, the High Priest has arrived. He says the matter is extremely urgent."
The chamberlain cast a brief glance toward Alf.
"It is fine. Bring him in. If it is the High Priest’s business, it must concern the Saintess. It will be good for Alf to hear it as well."
"As you command."
After the chamberlain withdrew with a respectful bow, the High Priest entered almost at a run.
His expression was unusually disheveled.
"What is the matter, High Priest?"
Wondering if something had happened to the Saintess, the king asked, and the High Priest opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.
It seemed he could not speak properly.
For a moment he merely gaped like a fish before finally producing sound.
"Your Majesty, I have just received word that a sprout has emerged from the Spirit Tree."
"What!"
The Lomon King shot to his feet before he could stop himself.
The Spirit Tree was known to have died long ago.
Where the colossal tree—too vast for even hundreds of people to encircle—had once stood, only a blackened, rotten scar remained.
He had visited it once during his days as a prince; nothing but a nose-stinging stench and viscous black fluid had greeted him.
And now a sprout had appeared there?
"Is that information accurate?"
At the Lomon King’s question the High Priest nodded.
"Without doubt. The priest who opposed the Saintess summoning set out on a pilgrimage to that place. This news comes from him."
"If it is from that man, he would never speak falsehood."
Good heavens—a sprout upon the Spirit Tree.
The Lomon King clenched his fists tightly for a moment to contain his joy.
It seemed the faint falsehood mixed into the Saintess’s words had left his heart more anxious than he realized.
His emotions churned like a ship tossed on a storm-wracked sea.
He felt he might forget his dignity and cry out in delight if he was not careful.
"Good. Very good."
The Lomon King barely managed to suppress his feelings and speak.
With this, even the Legasria envoy would have nothing to say.
No matter where the oracle had descended, the gods had now clearly approved the summoning of the Saintess.
"Before the Saintess ceremony, spread this news to every person in the kingdom. No matter how remote the region, every citizen of this land must know that the Spirit Tree has returned to life."
The chamberlain, standing a short distance away, bowed his head.
"Understood, Your Majesty. I will arrange it at once."
Watching the chamberlain hurry out, Alf muttered.
"...She was not a fake… She truly was the Saintess…"
The Lomon King sent a stern gaze toward both Alf and the High Priest.
"From now on, even more people will try to approach the Saintess. Even if they are our own citizens, do not let down your guard. The two of you must secure her heart."
The High Priest and Alf bowed their heads.
"As you command, Your Majesty."
"Yes, Father."
After the wild boar had been processed, the leftover meat and some of the edible organs went into a large pot.
Originally this land had no custom of eating animal innards except when making sausage.
But as food grew scarce, people stopped discarding the organs and began preparing them.
Even so, they did not use every part the way people did on Earth.
Organs with too strong a smell were left out.
It was probably the difference in spices.
Four enormous pots were set over the fire, and every edible organ from the wild boar was thrown in.
Among the luggage the leader had left behind was a small barrel of liquor.
Someone said it would be a waste not to drink it on a day like this, so the barrel was opened and liquor passed around to everyone.
It was cheap beer that could not be called delicious even as flattery, yet everyone drank it with joy.
The meat scraps were gathered and grilled on the spot.
Even after the whole village pitched in to eat, there was still plenty left over.
The children skewered meat on twigs, roasted it, and began to doze off one by one.
Before long the sky had turned pitch black and stars sparkled as though someone had scattered glittering powder across it.
Boisterous laughter, ridiculous boasts about how in my younger days I caught a wild boar with my bare hands—everyone’s voices rang noisily into the night sky.
I sat among the laughter as if submerged in it, then suddenly lifted my head.
Popcorn had been missing for a while.
The little fellow who usually fluttered around nearby—where could he have gone?
Feeling strange, I looked around and spotted a faint firefly-like glow wobbling through the distant air.
What? Did he fly all the way out there?
It felt odd.
He almost never left my side.
As I watched, Popcorn gradually drew closer.
It looked like he was carrying something.
Huh? Is that a plant?
Looking closely, Popcorn was clutching a small piece of greenery several times larger than his own body.