Chapter 19

It’s cold.

Glasir Gel Gronvidr winced as a bitter wind rasped over her skin.

It’s cold…where’s the sun?

Her slender body curled up tightly, and she shivered over the cold stone.

Stone? What…

Opening her eyes, Glasir squinted in the grey light. Bare stone against her cheek…her body was cold.

She pushed herself upright, looking about in confusion. It wasn’t a rock that she had been lying on – it was the ground that was stone.

…how?

Did she awaken on a mountain somewhere? That couldn’t be right.

The tender young leaves on her body trembled as she absently felt around herself. Her tree should be nearby, rooted in the soil. Even if they were on a mountain, there should be the little bit that it had sprouted on.

Her hands found a large, round object. A boulder? She looked over, then froze.

“W-w-w-what…WHAT THE HELL?!?!”

A female voice cried out in shock at her shout. Glasir looked over. It was a Wood Elf.

That’s a good sign? If there’s a Wood Elf, then there are probably trees nearby…

Glasir didn’t know how she knew this. She just knew.

Somewhat assured, Glasir rose to her feet. Then she realised that she shouldn’t be assured. There was something wrong with her tree. Not that it was ‘her tree’. The tree was her – she was a Dryad: the spiritual manifestation of a tree.

She scratched the soft, woody skin of her forearm, trying to figure out what was going on. The good thing was that her tree was healthy, meaning to say that she was healthy. Its roots were anchored well into the soil; it hadn’t been uprooted in a storm and tossed onto a mountain face. The problem was where the soil was: it filled the boulder she had felt from before, which was hollowed out.

Did a seed just happen to fall there and sprout? That was a problem. If she grew too tall, she would tip over and that would be terrible.

She needed to move. Someplace with plenty of soil and lots of sunshine, ideally. Somewhere without too much wind or things that might munch on her.

Maybe it was a lucky thing that the seed of her tree had fallen onto this boulder. She could pick herself up and find the perfect spot to put down her roots.

A sense of adventure rose within her. This lasted all of a few seconds as Glasir took in her surroundings. It was stone. Stone as far as the eye could see. That wasn’t all: there were Humans everywhere, moving about and in and out of their stone dens.

The sense of adventure was replaced by a sense of dread. It was such a desolate looking place. There wasn’t a single hardy plant or even a blade of grass. It was cold and barren and lonely: just how was it that she was born here?

Dryads were spirits of life and nature, this much she knew. They were found in the old and wild places of the world, suffused in the primal forces that gave birth to them. They did not pop up on barren fields of stone; they emerged from…

Glasir frowned and looked down at her tree. This was also wrong. Why did she have to look down at her tree? Why was she bigger than her tree? It should have been a huge and magnificent tree, its girth wide enough to dwell safely within. A tree that had seen the coming and going of ages. Her tree, however, could barely be called a sapling.

As she continued to frown down at her tree, Glasir’s ears perked up at a dull, steady tread. It was metallic…a blade? A Human was coming to bite at her poor little tree with its blade? Balling up her fists, Glasir gathered up her courage. She was just a newborn Dryad, but she still had to defend her tree.

She turned towards the sound with a defiant expression. Then she spun back around.

Nope. Nopenopenopenopenope.

It wasn’t a Human. It was Undead. A big black Undead thing with evil-looking thorns sprouting all over its body. She needed to go. Run, even. She reached out to pick up the boulder with her tree, but it didn’t budge. The Elf was holding it down.

“Excuse me,” Glasir put on a charming smile. “Could you please let go of my tree?”

R-resist? This stupid Elf resisted me!

She hadn’t just asked. Along with her request, she had used a Spell-Like Ability – one that could charm humanoid-type species like Elves. Glasir tugged on the pot again, with no more success than before.

“Y-you can’t be doing this you know?” Glasir pointed to the side, “There’s an Undead thing coming and…and–i-it’s looking right at us, you know? We need to run!”

The spiky black Undead stopped and turned its attention towards them. Was there something wrong with this Elf’s head? Or maybe she was just stupid. So stupid that she didn’t know that Undead were bad, which every living thing should know.

Glasir’s leaves quaked as she struggled to free her tree. Why was this Elf so strong? Or maybe the boulder was heavier than it looked. The thorny Undead took a step towards them.

“P-please let go,” Glasir begged. “Please! I was just born – I don’t want to die right after I was born!”

The Elf just glared back at her with a determined look in her steely grey eyes. Madness.

“Let go!” Glasir screamed, “Let go! Let go! Let go!”

A head poked out from a nearby den. To Glasir’s dismay, it was another Undead being – a female. Her glowing crimson gaze fell over her for several moments before she disappeared back into the den. A few seconds later, an…Elf? Came out. In her wake followed a half dozen Undead.

Glasir renewed her panicked efforts. The soft, woody skin of her fingers broke and flaked off and her precious sap stained the boulder, but the stupid Elf wouldn’t let go.

“Mother, what’s going on?”

The mother Elf didn’t answer. As the other Elf closed in on them with the Undead, Glasir gave up on wresting her tree away. She raised a hand towards the mother Elf.

“「Twine Pl–”

So cold. It hurts.

“Give it back!”

Glasir’s eyes fluttered open. She was on the cold stony ground once more.

“Give it back!”

The side of her head hurt. Her fingers went gingerly up to feel her temple, coming away with sticky strands. Something had hit her; knocked her to the ground.

“Give it back!”

She looked up at the sound of the voice and her eyes grew wide in fright. The thorny Undead had her tree. Beside it, the mother Elf was stretching her arms up towards the boulder.

“Give it back!”

Glasir struggled to her feet, staggering over to her tree.

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“Give it back!” The mother Elf said.

“Give it back!” Glasir cried.

They turned to glare at one another, then looked back up again.

“Give it back to me!”

“No, give it back to me!”

Glasir reached up towards the boulder, but the thorny Undead was too tall. Even jumping didn’t work. The Undead were beings that hated all life. Maybe it was tormenting her. It would hold up her tree exposed in the cold until she withered and died, cackling gleefully at her slow suffering.

“Give it back!”

“Give it back!”

“Don’t listen to her – it’s mine! I’ll die without my tree!”

“Wiluvien,” a new voice said, “what in the world is going on?”

“ …I’m not sure, my lady,” the other Elf said. “One of the Vampire Brides heard a racket outside and found my mother and this…”

“Dryad.”

“…Dryad fighting over Lord Mare’s tree.”

She had no idea who ‘my lady’ was, but the Elf sounded deferential. As Glasir turned to look around for the source of the voice, she found that many Humans had gathered around them. Many Humans and half as many Undead…why weren’t they being slaughtered?

One of the Humans standing near the Elf stepped forward. Her foliage was different from everyone else’s – was she important? Maybe she could charm the Human and secure an escape somehow…

“Hello.”

“H-hello…”

Glasir glanced around at the nearby Undead. Could she get away with it?

“My name is Ludmila Zahradnik, Baroness of Warden’s Vale.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what half of that means…wait, Warden?”

“Do you know what that means?”

“I…”

She straightened and brushed the gravel from her side.

“My name is Glasir Gel Gronvidr. Are…are you really a Warden?”

“That appears to be the case,” the Human offered her a lopsided smile. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Glasir Gel Gronvidr.”

“L-likewise.”

“We have attracted quite the crowd…please come with me to my home, where we may speak at length in private.”

Glasir looked up at the thorny Undead holding her tree. She still wasn’t sure why the Undead weren’t killing everyone in sight.

“I can’t go very far from my tree…”

The Human who claimed to be a Warden followed the line of her gaze.

“We will not be going very far,” she said, “my home is right over there.”

She gestured to the Undead den. Glasir’s cheek twitched.

“If you are that worried,” the Human said, “we can take it with us.”

“These Undead will listen to you?”

“They are under my authority, so yes.”

Ah, I give up. What is this world I’ve been born into?

Glasir nodded meekly, and the Human female turned to head into the Undead den. The thorny Undead followed with Glasir’s tree, as did all the ones that had originally come out of the den. To her dismay, the mother Elf followed as well.

“W-why is she following?” Glasir pointed to the mother Elf.

“Mrs Linum has been tending to your tree for nearly half a year.”

“I don’t know how long that is.”

“Since about the beginning of summer. A year is twelve months, and a month is the time it takes for the full moon to wane and wax and become full again. A day is the amount of time it takes to go from sunrise to sunrise.”

“...I see.”

“The tree was left here by Lord Mare Bello Fiore, a Dark Elf Druid. Mrs Linum will not allow any harm to come to it.”

She wasn’t sure what to think of that, but it appeared that she had no choice but to go along. Glasir took one last look at the overcast skies before shuffling into the Undead den.

“I-it’s warm? And it’s bright!”

“The interior is magically lit and the temperature is magically regulated.”

Glasir gaped at the interior of the den. Though the walls and floor were stone, everything else she could see appeared to be shaped from wood. Immediately inside, a number of plants in boulders similar to the one that held her tree were basking in bright light. She went over and leaned forward to inspect them.

“Will it work?”

“Will what work?”

“I heard that one could grow plants indoors if there was sufficient lighting,” the Human said. “So I decided to experiment with the idea this winter – I have several Farmers trying it out as well.”

She took a closer look at the plants. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them.

“I don’t know anything about this,” Glasir said, “but they seem to be okay? When it’s bright and warm, then things should grow…that’s how I feel about it, at least.”

“If it works out,” the Warden said, “my subjects can have fresh greens all year. I suppose all that is left is to see what happens.”

“So this isn’t something you usually do here?” Glasir asked, “Putting plants in these…boulders.”

“Pots. People plant things in pots all the time, but they are usually ornamental flowers and shrubs. What we are doing here has far more intrinsic value.”

Glasir wasn’t sure what this ‘value’ was, but if plants could grow in the winter…

“Wait,” she frowned. “You said that Mrs Linum has been taking care of my tree since summer, and it’s pretty cold outside…what season is this?”

“It is the end of autumn.”

“What!”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Was there? No, there was. She was just being confused by the warmth and the light.

“Autumn is when the world prepares to go into hibernation,” Glasir said. “When life goes to sleep. Dryads are born when life awakens. I…I was born in the wrong season; in a weird place! Even my tree is too small…”

Why did she have to explain this to a Warden? Maybe she was a Warden of a different thing…or maybe she was lying. Was it possible to lie about being a Warden? Maybe it was the entire world that had gone mad.

“I-if you’re a Warden,” Glasir shifted closer to her tree, “then why aren’t you doing your job?”

“What do you mean?”

Glasir stared at the Human female. Not only was the mother Elf stupid, but this Human was also stupid. The Undead weren’t acting properly so they had probably become stupid, too. Everything was stupid. She had been born in a stupid place.

“Don’t you see all these?” She pointed around her, “There are Undead everywhere! They’re all dangerous looking ones, too. If there are this many, then the balance is definitely messed up. So messed up that I can’t even begin to imagine how messed up it is! How was I even born in this place when there are so many Undead here?”

“They are not originally from my territory.”

“…and you just let them in? That isn’t any better!”

“They help to defend the territory and maintain order.”

That was the first Warden-like thing that she had heard from this Human. Still…

“Defend the territory from what?”

“Intruders, criminals–”

“What are ‘criminals’?”

“People who break the laws…” the Human stopped and frowned. “People who inflict or threaten harm upon the order of these lands.”

Glasir still wasn't sure what sort of ‘order’ this ‘Warden’ maintained. All Wardens were keepers of order, but the order foremost in her mind was the order of nature: the balance between life and death and the elements.

“So they don’t run around killing all the living things?” She asked, “Destroying nature?”

“Some of them patrol the borders,” the Human said. “Others keep the interior safe. We have Undead labourers that help cultivate the fields and manage the forests. A few of them work around the villages and the harbour. The Undead here are valuable servitors of His Majesty the Sorcerer King. They are not the same as naturally-manifested Undead.”

“Alright…so you destroy any normal Undead that show up, right? You don’t let any in? There aren’t any here?”

The Human fell silent. Glasir frowned at the delay.

“The Sorcerous Kingdom will destroy any mindless Undead to protect its subjects, but–”

“‘But’?! What is there to ‘but’ about!”

“There are two individuals present who have just arrived – they will be here to trade and deliver cargo periodically. As long as one does not threaten the order of these lands, they are welcome here.”

Glasir shook her head. She didn’t understand. Nothing made sense. What was wrong with this Warden? Maybe there was someone better to talk to.

“Do you have a Druid or a Ranger that I can speak to?”

“I am a Ranger.”

“Then how about another Rang–ow!”

She flinched away as something tugged at her shoulder. Turning tearfully, she found one of the Undead with a golden red leaf pinched between its skeletal fingers.

“What was that for?!” Glasir cried, “I just sprouted, you know? You can’t just rip off my leaves like that!”

“Nonna, that was not nice.”

“Our information indicates that an act of this severity will not result in permanent harm,” the Undead being spoke in a dry, raspy tone. “Domestic disturbances are rare: associated data is valuable.”

The Undead started doing something with a flat object in its hands. Glasir eyed the leaf worriedly. Her leaves matched the leaves on her tree, but she had more of them. A Dryad with more leaves than her tree. How silly was that? Hopefully, the Undead wouldn’t take a leaf from her tree as well.

“Have you received a response from Lord Mare?” The Human asked.

“Lord Mare is–”

A leg came out of her tree. Glasir screamed.