Blueprint A…? Or B? Or maybe blueprint K…

Luka spread a dozen or so papers around the forest floor. Emberwood Forest was eternally early-fall, the time of year when the leaves started to change but have yet to fall. There was something about the magic in the air, the power of the forest in other words. The orange leaves of the emberwoods still fell, but more like a lizard gaining a new skin rather than how a normal tree purges itself and goes dormant for winter.

The weather was always perfect for amusement park fun, a fact not lost on Luka. Also not lost on him was that perfect weather meant no lull in tourism. This world lacked seasonal holidays—for the most part—and vacations were taken whenever a family could reasonably take them.

This meant the hotel needed to be a good one. It would have no down time for refurbishments, it would always be full—if the park’s projections were to be believed. It would also cater, until a cheaper or more expensive option were available, to all guests. VIP or not. The princess? The consort? A mob boss that could potentially bring a gang of thugs with him? Everyone would be under the same roof.

So, in essence, the hotel had to be amazing.

Luka scratched his head and restarted—the blueprints he had been working on for months suddenly looking like a child’s drawing. Nicole could design a better hotel than me, he thought, crumbling his worst offender.

Maybe C? Or…

Luka sighed, tightened his requirements, and reset again. The park needed something now. It needed a big ol’ building with dozens—hundreds, even—of rooms. It needed plumbing glyphs, it needed elevators, it needed amenities like swimming pools, bars, and even a restaurant or two. It needed a butt load of staff to run it. It needed time to be properly operated.

He needed time. A lot more time, time he didn’t have.

Luka gnawed his lip, knowing this was his fault. Every day a shipment of raw materials was purchased and brought to the park from Sneerhome. And for the last two months, those materials had been sitting collecting dust. He hadn’t made anything big in a while now, a fact not lost on him.

He took a deep breath and checked on Annie. She was off to the side, measuring a football pitch’s length… or thereabouts. Honestly, Luka hesitated to remove this much of the forest and relocate it elsewhere. But it had to be done, even if the dryads didn’t like it.

He gritted his teeth. He hated making others mad. He hated it when people thought he was the bad guy—because he once was.

“Could really use some advice,” he whispered to the open air, hoping one of the many gods he knew were listening would appear before him. None came, as he expected. They’d only appear when they had to, not when he wanted them too. Not anymore.

“Advice for what?” a voice asked curtly.

Luka spun, attempting, and failing, to find the source. Annie was out of talking-volume earshot and the only thing around him was the forest and its countless trees. He played the voice back in his mind a few times, hoping to identify it. Maybe it was a god he knew, maybe it was one of the kids playing a prank on him. But no—he didn’t recognize it. In fact, he didn’t recognize the accent either.

“Little human are you okay?” the voice asked again. “What do you need help with?”

The accent was almost posh, Luka noted. It was feminine, yes, but old and rich like a grandfather clock—or in this case, a grandmother clock.

“Uh, who am I talking to?” He homed in on the voice.

A tsk echoed from a tree. “It’s ‘whom am I talking to?’ Basic grammar is very important, don’t you think, World Walker?”

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Luka was over the mystery. He glared at the source of the voice, a tree a few paces away. He stalked right over to it and planted his hands on his hips, staring.

“You’re either a dryad, god, or the world tree consort.”

“The last one.” A pause. “But I do think it is interesting you assume ‘god’ before me.”

Luka kept himself from rolling his eyes. If every VIP was going to be like this, he’d need to hire someone to act as a go-between—a liaison of sorts.

“I didn’t figure the consort would be a tree,” he said plainly.

“I’m not. I’m just watching you from the tree. I’m currently in line for the WHEEL. Terrible name, by the way. Not original at all.”

He crossed his arms and frowned. “And what would you’ve named it?”

She took a second to answer. “Billy—yeah that’s a name befitting this ride. Billy. Oh, and it’s not proper to start a sentence with ‘and’ young man. You should attempt to be civilized, World Walker.”

Luka pressed his lips into a firm line. “Uh huh. And,” he emphasized the word, “why do you think ‘Billy’ is a good name? That’s a person-name.”

“I don’t. You asked what I would name the ride, and I answered. I never said it would be a good name.”

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He pushed away his initial thoughts of strangling the tree. “Touché.”

“Hmm. I do not recognize that word—and I’ve been studying languages for a long, long time. What does it mean?”

“That you made a good point or something. I think it’s French or something.”

Luka could practically hear her purse her lips. “Ending a sentence with ‘or something’ is not… incorrect. But it is improper. And you should—”

He interrupted with a single word. “And.”

The voice paused. Then, quietly, said, “Touché.”

Luka sighed as loud and hard as he could manage. His stress melted from the gesture, and he could feel consort warm up to him a little—or maybe that was just the tree. Well, magic tree.

“I’m World Walker Luka, may I have your name, Mrs. Tree?”

A snort echoed through the bark and moss. “Jear, Elven Consort and the first of her name.”

He heard the emphasis on “the” and realized she was probably right. She was likely the oldest mortal being in the world, so of course she’d be the first person named “Jear.” Then he thought about it some more. A parent could literally name their child something unique and that child would be first of the name. Was Jear a popular name?

Luka, of course, did not voice any of these thoughts.

“What advice do you need, World Walker?”

“Please, just Luka—”

“Then call me Jear.”

He smiled. Now they were getting somewhere! “I’m hesitant to rip apart the forest to add a hotel. But the park needs one.”

“Did you ask the trees what they think about getting ‘ripped apart?’”

Luka suspiciously eyed a different tree. “Would you like to be moved to a different location? Otherwise—”

“Otherwise, you’ll chop it down and kill it regardless of its thoughts because you need to build a hotel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Don’t say ‘yeah,’ it is unbecoming.” Jear sighed through the tree. “Look—I know this is strange coming from someone of my standing but just chop down or move the trees you need to. They’re trees, not people.”

“But Mrs. Leafsong said the trees told her they were fine with moving.”

“Is Mrs. Leafsong a dryad?”

“…yes?”

“Dryads are a pain to deal with. Ignore her.”

That didn’t sit well with Luka. “Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Then don’t move or kill the trees.”

He fumbled from the response. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He blinked at the tree. Was that it? He expected an argument.

She took a moment to speak again. “Just move the trees, alright? Do you need me to come do it for you?”

The forest swayed.

“No—” Jear snapped like she was yelling at a dog. “No! Don’t! Bad!”

“What!?” Luka asked, hesitantly looking around.

“The trees are threatening to shed their leaves in protest.”

“A-all of them?”

“Except for a few screwballs, yes.”

He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Why is this happening to me?”

“Why indeed.” Jear hummed slightly. “Fine. I will broker a deal. It will be a shame if the park can not expand because the trees revolt.”

Then, quietly, she said, “This is why I hate leaving home. Trees are so rude.”

Again, Luka made a note to hire a go-between for him and the VIPs. He was not going to interact with these people unless he had to.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He turned, finding Annie walking over. She held a piece of paper filled with scribbled math—acreage estimates. On her belt was the grove keychain. It flopped as she walked, the trees within uncaring as space moved around them.

“Fine.” He beckoned her over and pointed at the tree. “Meet Elven Consort Jear.”

“A… tree?”

Jear scoffed and the very distinct sound of swaying mechanical bungalows echoed through her magic. It seemed she had gotten on the WHEEL finally. “It is improper to refer to someone and not use their full title.”

Luka set his jaw and said, “Meet Elven Consort Jear, first of the name…” then he muttered so only Annie could hear, “and fancy-pants.”

“I heard that!” Jear snapped.

“Heard what?” he asked as if he expected the question. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I was just speaking to Annie, my daughter, privately. Please, take no offence.”

“Oh, you sniveling twit! This is why I hate kids! They always think they can do or say whatever they want! And another thing—”

“And,” Luka said, holding back a smirk.

Jear went silent just before a wash of magic rushed through the forest. Luka recognized it instantly—the World Tree was watching.

“Please? Please don’t do this to me…” Jear muttered aimlessly through the tree. “I won’t complain for a century if you allow me to come home right now.”

Luka and Annie shared a look. She was obviously not talking to them.

“I know I have the acorn, why do you think—” the consort stopped herself in a huff. “You cannot be serious!? What about this is funny to you? They are snotty children who—ugh!”

Luka sniffed his nose. Am I snotty?

Jear’s breathing passed through the tree as she fumed. “Do you have alcohol here?”

“Uh—yes,” he replied, thinking the question wasn’t for him at first. “All kinds. And we also will have root beer soon.”

The elf made a disgusted sound. “’Root beer is a terrible flavor. Why would you ever sell that in your park?”

The father-daughter duo shared a look. “Not literal ‘root’ beer,” the latter said. “It’s a sweet, fizzy drink from our world.”

They could feel Jear perk up a little through the tree. “Truly? I would like to try some.”

“We can arrange that,” Luka said with a shrug to his daughter. “But first we’ve got to build you a place to stay for the night. What do we need to do about the trees?”

There was some shuffling from the other side of the conversation. Then, the bark on the tree split open and an elf woman stepped through before closing the splayed bark like a door. Jear gave the World Walkers a strange look before huffing.

“Do not worry about the trees. They’ll move themselves if they know what is best for them.” She fished through her pocket and pulled out an acorn. “Because he wants to grow here.”

“Who?” Luka asked.

She gritted her teeth and said, “My husband. Tannin, first of the name, annoying bastard, and…