The Tiny Witch from the Deep Woods: Volume 2, page 10
Miranda relaxed, judging that Misha was telling the truth. As Misha had said, based on her stories of what life with her mother was like, the brilliant life of a noble in the palace was likely too rigid and constraining for a girl like her. It was no wonder she had been desperate for a more private space.
Looking around the room once more, Miranda could see bundles of dried herbs lying in a space with good sunlight and air circulation. There also sat a small cistern of water with various tools used to make medicine arranged neatly around it.
The room was slowly but surely being remodeled into a space that fit Misha’s tastes. Besides that, a second look revealed that while simple, the table and chairs where Miranda was sitting now were quite solid and comfortable. The people of the castle had likely done what they could to sneak in fixtures of the highest quality possible without arousing Misha’s suspicion.
I bet the rest of the rooms are like this too.
It was clearly good enough that if any of her family happened to see it, they would never get the impression Misha was being treated poorly. And yet, Misha would be flustered if she were to learn just how high-grade her furniture was. Miranda couldn’t stop the smile peeking through the corners of her mouth as she thought about the castle staff bending themselves over backward trying to treat Misha well but not in a way that the girl disliked.
“I see. If it’s what you want, then I guess that’s fine. It’s a nice, cozy little place, isn’t it? Does it have a room for me too?”
“Of course! If you don’t mind, you are more than welcome to stay here!” Misha beamed happily as she quickly got to preparing breakfast.
After watching her work for a bit, Miranda returned to a casual inspection of the contents of the cabin. Eventually her eyes came across something out of place standing among the herbs hanging from the ceiling.
“What’s this...?”
It was a large staff, just slightly taller than Miranda herself. The haft was smooth and glossy where one would hold it, but the head was rugged and knotted, evincing the natural, wild world. Hanging from the curved head was a small, old-fashioned square lantern. A large knot was left in the wood to mark the transition from polished staff to natural branch. The knot was thoroughly polished so that the user wouldn’t hurt themselves on it, and it was decorated with a bundle of faded ribbons.
This was Leyas’s staff. Or more accurately, it was something Leyas’s mother had used in her travels when she was young. Leyas had seen it and decided she wanted to travel the world with it someday; Miranda had promised to go with her. Seeing it now, a wave of emotions struck Miranda. That staff was one of the very, very few things that Leyas had taken with her from the village when she’d left.
Miranda reached out for the decorative ribbons, tears collecting in her eyes. They were faded and frayed, speaking of the many long years they had endured.
“Ley... You kept these the whole time?”
The young and stubborn Miranda hadn’t been able to bring herself to see her friend off in person. Instead, she snuck into Leyas’s house the night before her departure and tied these ribbons to her staff. They were supposed to be a good luck charm for her travels and a prayer that she’d find even greater happiness abroad.
Miranda hadn’t left any sign that the ribbons were her own doing, but they had been friends since the day Miranda was born. She had no doubt that Leyas had seen through her intentions, recognizing the clumsy attempt at kindness.
“A proper goodbye would have been so much better...” she murmured, a single tear streaking down her face.
The age of adulthood was later for People of the Forest than it was for others in Carmine. Other cultures considered one an adult at sixteen years old, but among the People of the Forest that was considered only an adolescent, meaning they still needed a proper adult to go with them if they were to travel outside the village.
They didn’t obtain full freedom to travel on their own until they were twenty. At that age they were recognized as a full adult, granted all the privileges and responsibilities that entailed. Being three years younger than Leyas, Miranda had needed to wait quite a while to gain that freedom after Leyas’s departure.
She had known there was a good chance she’d never see her friend again, but young as she had been, Miranda hadn’t been able to accept Leyas’s decision to cut ties with her and leave the village. Even after she’d been allowed to leave the village, the passage of time had left her unsure how to approach Leyas, and so Miranda had never visited her, shielding herself with the excuse she wasn’t supposed to interact with people who had left the village for good. One could say that had made matters much worse.
In the end, that day had been their final goodbye. Ever since Miranda learned that, she’d regretted it. However, even after all this time, her last gesture toward Leyas was still tied tight around that staff.
Leyas had been a kind and gentle mentor for Miranda. She might have even shrugged off Miranda’s bitter treatment, knowing full well how stubborn her friend was. And someday, when Miranda had worked up the courage to see her again, Leyas had decided she’d show her that those ribbons were still tied there, and she’d thank her for them. This was only Miranda’s speculation, but the thought gave her a small measure of consolation.
“Hmm, Ley... Were you happy?” she repeated the same question again, one she had asked last time through tears and sobs. And somewhere deep in her heart, she felt she heard the reply come back: Of course.
Miranda smiled, one more tear coursing its way down her cheek.
A fluffy omelet, cooked with plenty of milk and butter, was lined up beside a row of crispy bacon. More food was at the ready: salad made from a mix of fresh vegetables with a vinegar dressing, a consommé featuring a variety of root vegetables and beans, and a mix of oranges and apples cut into tiny cubes that were blanketed with yogurt and honey. For bread, there was a basket of rich, buttery rolls and pastries.
“Castle staff gave me the ingredients, but they let me cook for myself. I hope you like it,” Misha said, finally bringing a steaming pot of tea over and pouring a cup for Miranda. “Thanks for waiting.”
“It looks amazing.”
Sitting across from each other, the two began their breakfast.
The fluffy omelet was lightly cooked, giving the eggs a texture that went perfectly with the tomato sauce on top. Additionally, the sour dressing was the same as the dressing Leyas used to make.
I seem to remember bickering with her over it being too sour.
Biting down on the feelings building inside her as her teeth tore into a roll, Miranda looked across at Misha as the girl turned her elegant cutlery on the meal before her. There was no impression of her usage of the utensils being performative. It seemed she was quite accustomed to using them even in ordinary life. Her mother had likely worked hard to ensure her daughter wouldn’t be caught flat-footed no matter what situation she found herself in.
As breakfast was coming to a close, Misha shared the current situation with her.
“By the way, since you left, I’ve been entrusted with Lady Lalaya’s health.”
Misha talked about her opportunity to give the princess a medical exam as well as her involvement in the girl’s treatment, which included her adjustments to the princess’s diet and the herbs she was using to treat her.
“I see. If that’s working, I see no issue with continuing like that. The princess’s heart concerns me, though. If we do suspect that it used to be irregular and has truly improved as she’s aged, you might be right that it healed of its own accord, but it looks to me like she’s stopped growing altogether. Things might change once she gets the proper nutrition again,” Miranda said as they drank their tea. “I also wonder if her anemia is really just an issue of malnutrition. Have you been keeping a close eye on her condition?”
Misha nodded, a bit caught out by Miranda’s sudden shift to a serious tone. “Her complexion and the color in her eyelids have slightly improved. Her constant fatigue and dizziness are both diminishing as well.”
Miranda nodded quietly, sinking into thought. The silence unnerved Misha, but Miranda didn’t pursue the subject, changing the topic entirely.
“But that’s not what you were worried about back in the garden, right? What were you thinking of back then?”
Misha took a moment to understand, but she quickly figured out what Miranda meant.
“Oh, that. I’m about to run out of herbs in my own collection. I’d like to go into town and visit some herbalists, or maybe I can go out into the mountains and do my own harvesting, but everyone seems so busy, and I doubt they’ll let me go into town by myself.”
Miranda grimaced at Misha’s troubled look. Although Misha didn’t seem to appreciate it, her current position was the daughter of foreign royalty, studying here as a guest of honor. If she were to go into town and something were to happen to her, it would immediately explode into an international incident. Considering the relatively weak position Bluheitz was in, Misha’s status was something closer to that of a hostage, but Redford couldn’t ignore Misha’s status and knowledge.
Of course, being raised alone in the forest isolated from civilization meant there was no way Misha could guess at such political motivations.
Miranda turned the problem over in her head. It was likely possible that she could lead an excursion out of the castle on Misha’s behalf. They’d likely be assigned two or three knights as an escort, but that would be the case whoever led the party. However, as one of the People of the Forest, Miranda herself was also under observation. Visiting herbalists in person might invite unwanted attention. However, as one of the People of the Forest, Miranda’s people always had their eyes on her.
Misha’s place among the People of the Forest was uncertain at the moment. She was the daughter of someone who had abandoned the village, so it was hard to say whether they would see her as one of their own.
Their village was quite a distance from here, severely limiting their means of communication. The best solution would be for Miranda to head back and explain the situation herself, but that would mean leaving Misha on her own for an extended period of time, and she didn’t want to leave the girl unattended in such a tumultuous situation. Instead, Miranda had entrusted her report to one of her close friends.
She could easily see the village splitting into two groups, one saying that with Misha’s mother gone, Misha needed to be brought back to the village immediately, and another claiming that an estranged mother made an estranged daughter, meaning they couldn’t let her waltz back into their lives.
Under normal circumstances, this would not be much of an issue, but even outdated as it was, Misha’s knowledge of the People of the Forest complicated things. Additionally, she wished to be an apothecary. And as expected of Leyas’s daughter, she was a smart kid. Her skills were rough and stilted, but if trained properly, she would definitely become an influential force among the People of the Forest.
But how do you explain that to those stubborn elders...?
“Miss Miranda?” Misha’s concerned voice brought Miranda back to the present. Looking up, she saw that same concern written plainly across the girl’s face.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I got a bit lost in thought,” Miranda replied with a shrug, and Misha relaxed a little. “But yes, herbs—I heard the palace just built their own herb garden recently. I wonder if we could use that?” Miranda suggested.
Misha’s eyes flew open. “They have a whole herb garden here?”
“You didn’t know? I guess the king ordered it created as an experiment about two years ago. Until now, those sorts of things were all small, individual efforts, so I was quite curious about the kingdom heading up an initiative like that in an official capacity. I never heard news of it being closed, so it may still be running.”
“A royal herb garden...” Misha grinned at the sweet sound of those words.
A kingdom with trade ties as strong as Redford’s likely had access to herbs from all over the world. Even if there wasn’t anything particularly rare, she had already made use of many powdered and dried herbs that she had never had the chance to see alive and growing. She might even find them fresh in the garden. The thought of discovering new plants had her eyes sparkling like she was a girl in love. Though the color tinging her cheeks was sourced from feelings about as far from romantic as you could get, it was undeniably adorable.
“I didn’t hear any news of it being closed, but I also didn’t hear any news of it accomplishing anything... Oh, you’re not listening anymore, are you?”
Miranda gave a small sigh and downed the last of her lukewarm tea, watching Misha’s mind race its way out the window.
Chapter 9: Problems in the Herb Garden
At the center of Redford’s capital was a large lake. Fed from underground springs, it had remained clean since the time of the kingdom’s founding, and so it had become the primary source of water for all residents of the capital. Its fish were a key source of food. It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that this lake’s presence was what had led to the founding of Redford in the first place. It was undeniably a symbol of pride for the people of the kingdom.
A short distance away from the castle, a small portion of land had been sectioned off as a public park for the people to enjoy. One section of that park had been divided off to create an herb garden, which the general public did not have access to. Unlike the library, which accepted all visitors, access to the garden was highly restricted, requiring prospective visitors to get permission. That said, a request from Misha was all it took for her to be granted access for her study of its plants. However, Misha did miss one thing during her request, and it was something that Miranda had very much noticed: Tris was not pleased when he gave her permission.
And now Misha was in that very garden.
“What? They’re not very effective?” she asked.
A young man named Adol all but apologized, introducing himself as the chief caretaker of the herb garden. “Mmm, unfortunately. I do not believe they will be of much value to you. We don’t know why they’re like this. Through some trial and error, we were able to grow a variety of medicinal herbs, but they are less than half as effective as those grown elsewhere. It is almost like they are just weeds masquerading as medicinal herbs.”
The weariness in his demeanor made it clear he took this failure rather personally.
At present, medicinal herbs were generally procured by harvesting them from the wild. Efforts to cultivate them on a large scale were still very much in the experimental phase. Even if this project had been a failure, it wasn’t like they had expected results in a day. Anyone who had given the issue serious thought would know this was a part of the process.
However, Adol was hard on himself. He was giving the project everything he had. Many people had worn themselves out over the long days of unfamiliar work, trying to put what little knowledge they could glean from the literature into practice through extended periods of trial and error.
And while they struggled to approach anything close to success, along came some to hit them while they were down. People began to label the whole project as useless and pointless. Voices started loudly calling for its funding to be reallocated to importing and harvesting herbs that grew naturally, rather than wasting the kingdom’s resources on a garden that was bearing no fruit. The king himself was the last defender of the project, the only reason it hadn’t been entirely abolished.
“We are trying something new. There are bound to be numerous setbacks. You have to think of this effort in the time frame of decades, not single years.”
The whole project had begun at the request of the king, so the lack of immediate results wasn’t a strong enough argument to have it entirely shut down. The project’s primary goal was to research the cultivation of these herbs, so if they were producing poor quality plants with their efforts, it was just as much part of their mission to investigate why.
The workers were thankful for the king’s understanding and support, but his protection of this failed project stood out as uniquely naive for a man who otherwise had risen to his position by getting results. A portion of the nobility took umbrage with the situation, and they even went out of their way behind the scenes to make life difficult for those on the project.
With little to show for their efforts, the project’s workers lacked a leg to stand on, and they didn’t have the power to stop the harassment. This, of course, only served to embolden their harassers. This cold treatment was driving away members from the project. With emotional abuse added on top of physical stress, Adol found he could do nothing but grit his teeth as he watched them go.
When he heard that someone who was rumored to be from the People of the Forest was coming to inspect the garden, he wanted to scream. There was also talk that she had taken on the mantle of private physician to the king’s younger sister, nursing the princess back to health after even the court physicians had been forced to give up.
Though Adol was a noble himself, he was the third son in his family; he was unlikely to be the successor. If he somehow offended this guest of the king, he had no idea what kind of punishment would be levied against him, and he had no political power to protect himself from it. Having given up on his family business immediately, he had apprenticed himself to an apothecary. (He couldn’t stand the sight of blood, so he’d also given up on being a doctor.) He must have possessed some talent in the field, as he had distinguished himself quickly. When his master had recommended him for the herb garden project, he had considered it a lucky break—a chance to make a real name for himself.
In the worst case, hopefully my head will be enough to satisfy them, Adol thought.
He had pessimistically prepared for a huge group to descend upon the garden, but the entourage was much smaller than he’d anticipated: the guest, a knight as escort, and one of her attendants. They hadn’t even traveled by carriage. They had simply walked. Even if they were fairly close to the castle, they were still far enough away that no daughter of a noble should have been walking.
