The Dryad Wants to Make a Seed (2)
Karem had heard that fairies were no different from people or any other race—each one unique in appearance. That much he had accepted without much thought. Reality, however, proved far more different than he expected.
He turned his head and looked at Mary.
To be perfectly honest, Mary might have been a brownie, but the traits never stood out much. Her ears were pointed, yes, but that was true of elves as well.
"Is there something more you wish to ask?"
"No. Nothing at the moment."
Flora, on the other hand, was something else entirely. She clung to Gordon as if she would never let go, while the man himself stood there in an awkward half-crouch, clearly wondering what on earth he was supposed to do.
"Hey, Mage! Karem! Mary! Don't just stand there staring—"
Porong?
"Alright, green young lady. First, calm down—"
"Her name is Flora!"
"Yes, Your Grace. Flora, is it? First, calm down and step back a little."
Porororong~♪
"I have no idea what any of that means."
From the start she had insisted, quite firmly, that her skin was a light green. And her unbound hair? Depending on the season or her mood, the flowers that had been growing there when they first met had already given way to a rich scatter of autumn leaves that rustled with every movement.
Then there was the peculiar power unique to fairies—Mary's kind of power.
"Kid. You saw it clearly, didn't you?"
"Flora's hair?"
"Not that. The spot where she was buried with only her head sticking out earlier."
Catherine tapped the ground with her staff and pointed with her chin to the place where Flora had been stuck like a radish only moments before.
Indeed.
"With a single gesture the hole in the earth filled itself back in. Was that magic?"
"No. Looking only at the result it resembles druid magic, but the feel of it is closer to Mary's unique ability."
Catherine delivered the analysis in her usual calm tone.
"Yes. Fairy magic. In this case, the magic of a forest fairy—a dryad."
Fairy magic came in countless varieties depending on the type. Calling it magic at all felt vague, yet its purpose was always crystal clear.
"It is similar to how a house fairy's magic specializes in housework."
"Honestly, that poof-poof of hers seems a bit too overpowered to just lump under 'house fairy magic.'"
Mary's eyebrow twitched.
"…I have thought this for some time now."
"Is something bothering you?"
"Is there not a better term than 'poof-poof'?"
"Pardon?"
Caught between pride at having her ability praised and irritation at hearing it reduced to "poof-poof," Mary turned her head.
"There are perfectly concrete or more respectable names—spatial transfer, teleport, or even a house fairy's footstep. Why insist on poof-poof of all things?"
"I told you before. Because you go poof and disappear, then poof and reappear."
"That is precisely what I dislike."
"But I like poof-poof."
"What part of the word 'poof-poof' could possibly be so appealing? If an actual poof sound rang out when I moved, I might understand, but it does not. And before that—where did that onomatopoeia even come from?"
"Poof-poof."
Mary spoke without even pausing for breath this time, determined to set the record straight once and for all.
Catherine glanced at the two of them and clicked her tongue.
"Whether it is poof-poof or whoosh-whoosh, settle it later. First, calm that situation down."
"…Understood."
Mary fixed Karem with a look that clearly said this was not over, but Karem remained completely unfazed.
Gifts are profound things.
Before giving something to another person, one must think twice—no, three times. Is the gift so expensive it will burden the recipient? Is it something the person will actually like? Might it be misunderstood, or is this even an appropriate moment to give a gift at all?
Of course, there are gifts that at least spare you from being scolded when received. No one frets too much over food. Anyone who does is simply twisted by nature.
Either way.
And from what Karem could tell, Flora thankfully did not seem the type to overthink things that far.
Not that the situation allowed them to get the first syllable of the word "gift" out of their mouths. The person who was supposed to receive it was not listening to a word anyone said.
Things only settled down after Corvus heard the commotion and came looking for them. He scolded Flora the way one would a child who had done wrong, then guided the party to his nest. Soon they were seated at a prepared table.
"By the way, are you well? Last time I saw you, your condition looked serious."
"I am fine now. My body has grown a bit, that is all."
"Then I am glad."
Corvus turned his head and studied Karem carefully.
"Though your lifespan has shortened a little, of course."
"Anyway—so, Flora. Is there anything you like?"
"Porororong? Porong!"
Corvus looked briefly sorrowful that his heartfelt attempt at humor had been completely ignored.
Flora, for her part, blinked her clear eyes and tilted her head. The autumn leaves in her hair rustled softly. She went porong-porong, tilting her head right, then left, before lifting a finger and pointing straight at Gordon seated beside her.
The meaning was clear enough.
Still, just to be sure, Karem asked the only other person present who seemed able to understand her.
"What does that porong mean just now?"
"It means she likes Gordon."
"As expected."
"And she is saying she wants to make a seed with him."
Right. She had said the same thing earlier.
Alicia, however, looked just as lost as the rest of them.
"But what does it mean, wanting to make a seed?"
"Do not ask me… I do not know either."
"Perhaps Flora wants to go flower-viewing with Gordon?"
"Flower-viewing?"
At those words Karem finally recalled that Flora was barely zero years old. Even if her body looked fully grown, at such a young age the idea was natural enough in its own way.
"…A seed… Surely not… No, it cannot be."
Catherine stared thoughtfully at the cup on the table, then shook her head firmly.
"What cannot be?"
"A useless thought crossed my mind. It must be groundless worry."
"A useless thought?"
You had a useless thought?
He did not say it aloud, but the expression must have shown plainly on his face, because Catherine's eyebrow twitched. Then she glanced at Alicia.
"Hmm."
Catherine, of all people, checking someone's reaction?
It was so unprecedented that it felt almost refreshing. This was the same woman who would charge at her own liege Alfred when furious, and who had raised her voice at Marquis Richard of the border when she could no longer hold back. A woman with zero sense of caution and a temper to match?
Now he was curious what could possibly make her mindful of Alicia. Fortunately there was a clue.
"Seed."
The answer had to lie in that mysterious sentence Flora had been repeating ever since she latched onto Gordon like a dwarf who had discovered a barrel of liquor after being shipwrecked—wanting to make a seed.
A seed is the medium by which a plant spreads its offspring.
And it is the result of two different individuals pollinating.
A medium for spreading offspring.
Pollination between two different individuals.
Come to think of it, she had been born from the seed he himself had handed over.
In that case, "let us make a seed" meant…
Oh.
Ohh.
Ohhhh.
And God said,
Be fruitful and multiply?
Technically not wrong—
"That is inappropriate."
"Yes. Far too inappropriate to bring up in front of certain people."
Karem could not help but agree with the knowing tone in Catherine's voice.
Interpreting "let us make a seed" as flower-viewing was already a stretch. Delivering a sex-education lecture about Flora's blatant proposition—essentially "sleep with me, Gordon"—to a six-year-old who was still years away from such topics would have been far too stimulating.
"Perhaps we should ask Baroness Poppins to add one more lesson."
"I believe Her Grace is still far too young for that particular education."
Mary was not wrong either. Sex education at too early an age was also inappropriate.
"But look at that scene. There is a real risk Lady Alicia might suddenly grasp the truth."
Mary could not refute him as he pointed across the table. Catherine nodded in agreement.
"Pororong~"
"Flora is saying she likes Gordon."
"That is nice to hear. Sudden enough to be startling, though."
"But she is saying she wants to make a seed. Do you understand what that means, Gordon?"
"Do not ask me either."
Completely ignoring Corvus and Alicia nearby, Flora went porong-porong, pororong while staring at Gordon, plastered against one of his arms with zero intention of letting go. The clear eyes fixed on him held unmistakable affection.
Karem whispered so quietly his lips barely moved.
"Is that really alright?"
"Is what alright?"
"Flora cannot even be one year old yet, right?"
"In human years… yes. Practically a newborn."
"…So before the coming-of-age ceremony we have an infant who is not even one?"
Only then did the gravity of it seem to hit Catherine. True, Flora was the one unilaterally making advances, but the crucial point remained: she was zero years old.
"Should we not report this?"
"Report? To whom?"
"To His Grace the Duke, or to Lord Iona—someone, anyone?"
Nobles might arrange political marriages with children as young as ten, but the sight of someone less than a year old behaving like this was abnormal by any standard.
"There is no need for that."
"And why not?"
"A dryad's age begins when the flower first blooms, continues through the fruit stage, pauses when it becomes a seed, and then resumes from the moment of hatching like this."
In other words, she only acted empty-headed; she had already lived more than long enough.
Catherine let out an involuntary breath of relief.
Karem did the same.
"Hmm… a gift."
Then the matter of the gift suddenly returned to him.
Why had he come all the way to the greenhouse?
Naturally, to repay Flora.
He had asked what she liked, but she showed no interest in revealing any preferences. She simply kept clinging to Gordon.
By this point anyone could see that Flora liked Gordon—whether that affection was friendly or romantic or something else entirely.
So perhaps he should think differently.
Would she not also like something Gordon had made for her with his own hands?
Flora liked Gordon.
Even Alicia had noticed.
There was no way the man himself was unaware.
Damn. This is honestly hard to resist.
Until very recently he had been a mercenary. It was impossible that he had no experience with women, and thanks to his skill as a Sword Master the constant recruitment attempts had inevitably included honey traps employing beauties.
He had built up a certain resistance to this sort of temptation.
But was he displeased by it? What man would dislike a woman who clung to him saying she liked him?
Most of the women Gordon had met until now had been either half honey traps or light summer-night flings conducted out of professional courtesy with no real fondness involved.
Flora was different.
When he glanced down, the innocent green woman smiled at him with clear eyes. That smile held nothing but goodwill and affection.
Autumn leaves in her hair? Light-green skin? Those were nothing more than accents that enhanced her beauty.
Ha. This is a feast laid out for me, but I cannot treat her the way I used to.
The non-relationships he had experienced until now had been simple.
He never stopped a woman who came, and never chased one who left.
If he sensed a honey trap or a pregnancy attack, he ran.
Yet even Gordon knew that this time he could not treat the person in front of him the way he always had. The problem was—how exactly was he supposed to treat her?
His instincts whispered.
But she is the one tempting you, is she not?
That is not wrong either.
From his right side came the pressure and softness of a curvaceous figure hidden beneath a full dress, and the scent of crisp autumn and fresh spring vitality that radiated from her entire body.
"Flora. That is enough. Our guest seems to be having difficulty."
"Porong? Porororong—!"
"Ahem. Flora. Do you not remember what I told you?"
"Pororong…"
"Correct. Now then, what is the next thing you should do?"
At Corvus's words Flora pulled away with a dejected expression. She glanced at Gordon, then gave him one tight hug. After that she stuck her tongue out at Corvus and fled into the forest.
"Flora!"
Alicia dashed after her.
"Haah. She is clearly acting out of goodwill, so I hope you will not take it too badly."
"I never thought of it that way."
"You are generous."
Freed from the soft restraint, Gordon felt a faint lingering warmth and a touch of regret.
Startling or not, if asked whether he liked it or disliked it, the answer was the former.
Karem approached that Gordon and spoke.
"Let us do one job together."
"What is with that shady look on your face?"
Gordon grew wary.