The Return of the Spirits
The rolling of the oat stalks was delightful. Pii.
The old woman in the village had long since passed her ninetieth year.
Her parents and older siblings had already been laid to rest in the earth.
Even her younger siblings, once younger than her, had grown old and passed away long ago, and her own children were no longer of this world.
The grandson who once crawled on all fours had long since become a father, and today his own child—her great-grandson—had married.
When the old woman herself had married, food had been prepared and the entire village invited to celebrate. These days, such gatherings were rare.
Her great-grandson's wedding had ended with nothing more than a slightly better meal shared among family.
The old woman sat quietly in the corner, eating as she always did, and set aside a small portion of her share.
As crops grew poorly and food grew scarce, the scene at the table had changed.
Once, a large bowl had sat in the center and everyone had taken what they needed. Now portions were measured out in advance.
In her bowl was a thin soup of vegetables and a few strips of dried meat, a single finger-length piece of bread, and—because it was a wedding—goat's milk, something that rarely appeared on the table these days.
The other bowls held one extra dish made with duck eggs, but hers did not.
Her portion was also much smaller than everyone else's.
There was no helping it.
She was far too old to help in the fields or around the house.
The only skills she still possessed were embroidery and sewing, things she had been praised for since childhood.
Her eyes were dim now and she could no longer work as well as before, yet her skill remained the finest in the village.
Traveling merchants paid the highest prices for her embroidery among all the goods the village women offered.
Thanks to that, she was not cast out and still lived under this roof, though her share of food had steadily shrunk until it was now only half what it once was.
The meager portion was barely enough to fill her thin frame, yet she still rose from her seat carrying what she had saved.
"Please stop that already. We barely have enough to eat as it is."
Her grandson spoke, but she pretended not to hear and turned away.
She left the house and walked to a corner of the yard where a small altar had been built around a rock.
Her father had made it when she was young.
The smooth stone, she had been told, had been found under the guidance of a spirit.
Believing it to be a stone spirits would like, her father had carried it home with great effort and placed a small wooden box upon it.
Inside were things he had collected: pretty stones, pieces of wood, now-dried leaves, the bodies of insects, and cicada shells.
Others might call them trash, but these were all things spirits enjoyed.
Her father had been someone who could see spirits and was beloved by them.
They had saved him from death many times, or so she had heard.
Whenever he found something a spirit might like, he would gather it and place it in the box.
Every day he offered food before it and gave thanks to the spirits.
As a child, the old woman had seen the food her father offered slowly disappear.
The memory had grown hazy with time, but she remembered clearly that the spirits had eaten what he left for them.
After her father passed, however, and after his children and their descendants had all died, leaving only her and her husband to enter this house, the food on the altar no longer vanished.
She had never once failed to make her offering, yet it seemed the spirits had all left after her father died.
Or perhaps they had died or disappeared themselves.
The food always remained exactly as she had placed it.
The once-prosperous village had fallen into terrible poverty, and rain had become a rare thing.
Crops grown with what little rain came produced mostly empty husks, and the harvest had dwindled to almost nothing.
It was not only her village.
Many fields nearby suffered the same fate.
Still, the old woman continued to offer food every single day, praying the spirits would return.
She prayed that the sight she had witnessed as a child—the food slowly disappearing—would happen once more.
She knelt before the rock and set down the food she had brought.
At that moment, someone grabbed her shoulder roughly.
"You old hag! I told you to stop! Offering food like that is just wasting it. There are no spirits left. We're all going to starve, and you're still doing this nonsense?"
It was her great-grandson, the one who had married today.
"Our family is growing. There will be children soon. You really have to stop now."
The young man glared angrily at the rock and the box.
"This is all pointless! If there really were spirits—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening.
"...Wh... what in the world..."
When he looked back, the food on the rock was slowly disappearing, just as it had when she was a child.
The old woman grabbed her stunned great-grandson and pulled him down.
"Bow! Before the spirits grow angry, bow at once!"
As he dropped to the ground in a panic, she too pressed herself flat before the rock.
"O spirits, please watch over our children. They are the descendants of the humans you once loved. Let my grandson and his children live in health and safety, and grant the newly married couple fine children and a happy life. Drive sorrow from our household and fill it with joy..."
As she spoke aloud the prayer she had always offered in her heart, a light rain began to fall.
"...Rain... It's raining..."
Her great-grandson stared at the sky in a daze, then suddenly burst into tears.
"Grandmother... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... The spirits really existed... I called you a senile old woman... I'm sorry..."
She patted his shoulder gently.
"It's all right... It's all right... I understand... I know..."
Even knowing how precious every scrap of food was, she had let it become food for insects day after day.
Her actions must have been deeply resented by the family.
In another household, she might have been beaten, locked away, or had the food taken from her by force.
That they had not done so was because her family was still kind.
Hearing the rain, the rest of the family came rushing out.
Even as they watched, the food continued to disappear bit by bit, and they finally understood that the stories the old woman had told since their childhood were true.
As they all knelt and bowed before the rock, the sound of excited voices rose from outside.
The villagers were rejoicing that rain had come.
King Lomon read through the reports that had arrived from every region.
Every letter sent by express messenger spoke of rain falling and of spirits being sighted—spirits that had not been seen in a long time.
One family that had witnessed a spirit even sent word that they had seen a small light appear on a flower that had received morning dew, a light that had not been there just moments before.
The letters added that a spirit might have been born.
How fortunate.
King Lomon let out a long breath of relief.
Whether by chance, by fate, or by the Saintess's luck, the rain and the sightings of spirits had all begun after Marguerite departed for the frontier.
He gestured for the chamberlain to approach.
Leaning close, the man listened as the king spoke in a low voice.
"Is the rumor that Marguerite damaged the Spirit Tree spreading well?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. It is being properly circulated among the people."
"Make sure it sinks deeper into their minds. The timing is perfect with the rain falling now."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
The chamberlain did not leave and hesitated instead.
"What is it?"
"...In truth, complaints regarding the Saintess have been reaching me. They are still only whispers for now, but they may grow into a problem."
"...."
A sigh escaped him without thinking.
What is it this time?
The Saintess's reputation was already the worst due to her extravagance and her dalliances with men.
Even with several beautiful men kept at her side, she seemed to grow bored of them after a time.
The number of attendants she had charmed and replaced for her amusement already exceeded several dozen.
King Lomon steeled himself and nodded.
"Speak."
The chamberlain hesitated a moment longer before continuing.
"The Saintess has grown dissatisfied with the men at her side and has begun reaching out to ordinary noblemen. She has been pressuring the prince to hold small banquets or inviting men who catch her eye."
"...."
"Because of this, several men have declared they wish to break their engagements."
"Does that even make sense?"
King Lomon stared at the chamberlain in disbelief.
Engagements and marriages were contracts between families.
No individual could break an engagement on a whim.
"Well... even when the family heads try to stop them, the betrothed themselves are apparently declaring their intent to break the engagement directly to their fiancées. There is a risk this will escalate into disputes between families."
"Good heavens."
If family contracts were broken so freely, conflict would arise between both sides.
When an engagement was broken due to one party's fault, compensation was usually required, so the man's side could not easily back down either.
They would try to find some fault with the woman's side to shift the blame.
At the very least, they would attempt to reduce the amount of compensation.
If only one or two families were involved, it would end as a minor disturbance, but if the number grew, the issue could spread and become tied to the Saintess herself.
What in the world is Alf doing, the one responsible for managing the Saintess... No, that boy is nothing more than her servant now.
King Lomon let out a long sigh.
"For now, send appropriate mediators to handle the family disputes. I leave the selection to you."
"Understood."
"Be careful that it does not become public."
"Yes. The families of the betrothed will likely wish the same, so it should not be difficult for now. However, rumors are bound to spread regardless."
"So be it."
King Lomon sighed softly.
The chamberlain still did not leave and glanced at him.
Is there more?
When the king gave him a look to continue, the chamberlain spoke with an expression that suggested he wished he did not have to.
"The men who broke their engagements claim the Saintess promised them a future together. They say they must remain pure for her sake. When questioned, the Saintess denies ever saying such a thing, but the men's words are likely closer to the truth. At the very least, she seems to have acted in a way that suggested such a possibility."
"It just keeps getting worse."
Every word the Saintess spoke carried weight.
If she had truly said such things—or even hinted at them—each family might begin scheming to bring her into their own household.
"We must marry her to Alf at once."
Still, thanks to the Saintess, rain had fallen and spirits had been born.
Compared to that, these headaches were trivial.
Suppressing the anger rising within him, King Lomon dismissed the chamberlain.
The High Priest had come to report the disappearance of Baldo and the apprentice priest, but that was nothing compared to the matter of the Saintess.
The king told the High Priest it was fine and sent him away, then sighed quietly.
A sudden thought occurred to him.
Rain was falling across the kingdom, yet there was still no sign of it near the capital or its surroundings.
If anything, the water sources were growing even drier.
An uneasy feeling crept up from somewhere deep inside.
Something is wrong.
King Lomon forced the feeling down and sealed it deep within his chest.
* * *
Once the harvest was finished, the work of threshing the grain and bundling the straw remained.
On Earth, machines handled all of it, but in this world, it was done by hand.
A large bamboo mat was laid on the ground, and everyone—men, women, and children alike—gathered around it, swinging the long oat stalks they had cut with sickles against the mat to knock the grains loose.
This, they said, was how grain was harvested in this world.
In no time at all, the oats piled up on the bamboo mat.
There was still plenty of grain left to thresh, yet every villager's gaze had frozen on the mat and would not move.
"Good heavens."
"Good heavens."
"This is... truly astonishing."
"The amount... Look at this... We've only just started, and already this much..."
"There's so much. I've never seen oats with this many grains in my entire life."
"Just look at the size of the stalks."
Once they actually began threshing, the difference from what they had seen at a glance was enormous.
The plump, well-filled stalks looked even larger and more abundant when spread across the bamboo mat.
I thought it was only natural, but the villagers' astonishment was no small thing.
It seemed this was truly extraordinary in this world.
Popcorn was running across the stalks with the baby spirit, teaching it something.
"...."
It looked like he was showing the baby which stalks tasted best.
The two of them clung to a single stalk and began eating.
Marguerite crouched down and reached out.
She seemed to have picked out one that looked especially large and delicious to her.
She pushed a few grains toward Popcorn and the baby spirit, and the villagers smiled warmly.
"My lady, are you offering those to the spirits?"
"This one looks delicious too."
The villagers searched through the stalks, found the largest ones, and placed them near Popcorn.
After tapping each grain and listening carefully, Popcorn selected a few and offered them to the baby spirit.
The baby spirit sniffed them, then took a big bite.
Popcorn watched with satisfaction, then dashed off to another stalk.
The spirits that had gathered nearby laughed and clung to the unthreshed oats.
Unlike Popcorn, they nibbled at the parts surrounding the grains or at the stalks themselves.
When the spirits gathered together, the area around them sparkled with light.
The villagers dropped to their knees and began bowing, thanking the spirits for the good harvest and asking for their continued favor.
There was still much work to be done, yet the atmosphere had suddenly turned into a spirit festival.
I glanced over and saw Popcorn and the baby spirit wandering across the bamboo mat, touching and nibbling at whatever caught their fancy.
You two—if you're going to eat, finish one thing instead of wandering around sampling everything.
When I approached and gave them each an almond, Popcorn and the baby spirit rolled away, then quickly came running back to me.
Both of them pushed their faces forward.
After eating the almonds, they rolled away again and came running back.
They still seemed to think eating almonds was a game.
This little rascal. You're supposed to be getting scolded right now.
Marguerite laughed brightly.
"Try it once."
"Is that all right? They're spirits."
"It's fine. They actually like it."
At my words, Marguerite flicked her finger timidly.
With a loud pii, Popcorn rolled dramatically far away.
The baby spirit saw this, charged straight into Marguerite's finger on its own, then rolled over and over.
Marguerite and I burst out laughing at the same time.
"This is nice."
"It really is."
"I want to try too."
The villagers murmured among themselves, and the spirits nearby laughed.
It was fun, but we had no time to play like this.
Once our field was finished, there were still many more fields waiting in line.
After the harvest came the sowing of newly purchased seeds, and farmers were truly busy people.
"All right, let's get back to work."
At my words, the villagers resumed threshing the grain.
The ducks that had been lurking nearby rushed in and stole the fallen stalks from the ground.
"You little thieves!"
"Uwaaaah!"
"Hraaah!"
The children chased the ducks away, striking the ground loudly with bamboo sticks made for that purpose.
Quacking and squawking, the ducks fled noisily, only for several to return and steal more.
The children wiped the sweat from their brows as they chased the ducks, and the adults laughed heartily at the sight.
Our village was peaceful today as well.