Roots

“Littleroot… I need to have a word with you.” Coldheart calls after homeroom.

I gulp as I walk up to her. “...Yes?”

“Professor Wildfoot has informed me of your situation and would like to meet with you tomorrow at 4:15 PM at the research department’s front office. You’ll need to fill out these papers by then. You’ll also need to create an account with the Sweepers’ Guild before they can pay you. The amount being paid isn’t safe for you to keep on the premises.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I… commendable work, Littleroot. It’s exceedingly rare for the academy to involve a student in our research efforts, and from what I hear, your contributions could prove quite valuable. Ensure you don’t take the trust we’re placing in you lightly, and keep up the good work.

“Thanks, Miss Coldheart—that means a lot coming from you. Thank you for your help yesterday too. Sorry again for all the trouble I’ve caused you. I know now you were just trying to look out for us.

She blushes and looks away. “Yes, well…”

I glance over at the flowers I gave her yesterday, now sitting in a vase on her desk, and can’t help but smile.

“You’re free to go now.”

“Um, before I go… I was hoping to show you a little token of my appreciation.”

She side-eyes me.

“About that date with Vincent—”

“It’s not a date!” her head whips around.

“He’ll like it if you wear a nice dress and do your hair up big. You should also make sure to eat somewhere with lots of meat and good alcohol. You should make a stop somewhere with nature or animals at some point too. He can be a bit awkward, so try your best to always keep the conversation going. I’ll make sure to write him a letter putting in a good word for you too!”

“Will you just go already?!” She snaps.

“Okay! Have a nice day, Miss Coldheart!”

On my way out, I peek back through the crack in the door and see Coldheart quickly scribbling down notes.

Heh.

***

My first class is Sweeper Survival Skills, where, as the name implies, we'll be learning about things like foraging, camping, first aid, gear maintenance, etcetera.

Given my own expertise and all the countryborn here, this seems to be the top class.

As I go to hand our teacher a bouquet, I do a double take at her bizarre appearance. She has the teachers’ cape, but looks like a child. Her short hair curls up at the sides, and both it and her eyes are aquamarine. She wears a half-smug, half-dazed grin, with three whole smoking pipes hanging from her mouth. She’s dwarfed by a gargantuan lavender witch hat with vines sitting around the rim, and she waddles around in sandals with absurdly tall blocks of wood attached that are nearly as tall as she is.

“Nyohoho.” Her laugh is odd, and her voice is high-pitched like a child’s, yet raspy like an old smoker’s. She pulls the pipes away and lets out a puff of smoke before speaking. “Flowers, you hand me—but do you know of their names?”

“Of course!” I excitedly tell her their names and some of their uses. I even sneakily flash her Pudding—who’s lying underneath my hat—being fed one so she can see the color changing effect it has on him.

“Nyoho! Nora Littleroot, you must be. A fellow root myself, I am. When your name appeared on my roster, from a botanical background, I suspected you came.”

“Fellow root?”

“Indeed! Far and wide are we herbalists found, often bearing root in our family names. A great many of us there are, often keeping in contact. And now, gracing you with her presence, ‘tis I, Poppy Willowroot—the greatest of them all.”

“Um…Miss Willowroot, you wouldn’t happen to know a Nicholas and Elizabeth Littleroot, would you?”

“Nyoho, indeed I do. Quite the lovely couple, yes, yes. Good students. Many contributions to our field. Disciples of mine they were, before I began teaching at this academy.”

“You taught my—wait… how old even are you?

“Oi. Rude.”

“Sorry.”

She takes another hit off her pipes. “Sad to see them go, I was. Settled down somewhere quiet with a child, I heard. That child, I suppose, must be you? Tell me, how do they fare?”

“Um, they died during a plague, helping our village. I was pretty young.”

She briefly closes her eyes. “Nyooo, a great loss indeed. Enjoyed them, I did. Many good memories, we shared.”

She takes yet another hit off her pipes. “Busy with research, I am—but not forever. When quieter days come, I beseech you to reach out. Stories of your parents, I can share.”

“Thank you, Miss Willowroot. That really would mean a lot.”

“Nyo, think nothing of it, my child.”

As I turn around and look for an open seat, I spot Jane and run over. “Jane! I had your sister as a teacher yesterday! Why didn’t you tell me you have a sister?”

“We, uh, don’t really talk much.”

“Really? But she seemed like she loves you so much. She was so amazing too. I wish I could be a summoner like her.”

“Funny enough… you actually kind of reminded me of her during exams.”

“Me? But she’s so confident and dazzling, and I’m, well, not.”

“I don’t know… I think you’re more alike than you realize.”

“I guess I just don’t see it. But, anyway, why don’t you two talk? That’s so sad.”

“Well, she left when I was six, so I just don’t have many strong memories of her. A Red Dragon some summoners were fighting crashed in our village, and while everybody else ran away, she charged straight toward it. She used her sword and burst of magic to plunge straight through its eye and steal the final blow. That ended up earning her a summoner’s contract with it.”

Jane pauses.

“I do pretty vividly remember mom screaming when Veronica came home covered head to toe in its blood, though, with her eyes having completely changed color.

“Normally you don’t enter the academy until you come of age, but the kingdom took her in immediately because of the sheer strength of her summon. Even before she became a summoner, she was extraordinarily gifted with mana—but afterward? She advanced so quickly she was famous before she even entered the academy.

“Now? Our village has basically become a tourist spot revolved around her, which, along with the money she sent home, saved it from poverty. Now she’s all anybody ever talks about there.”

“But… that’s a good thing, no?”

“Not when you’re constantly compared to her. Especially someone as mediocre as I am. I barely even know her, yet being her sister constantly makes my life harder.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re mediocre, Jane. You made it into this class, didn’t you? And our travel skills class seemed like an advanced one too. Plus, you’re so nice! You rank way above her in my book, Jane.”

She smiles warmly. “Thanks, Nora. I—”

Her smile suddenly fades as she looks over at a girl from Petra’s crew, glaring at us.

“Um, Nora? I heard what happened between you and Petra, and… I like you. I really do. But I can’t risk getting dragged into it like Lucas did. So, I… I don’t think we can talk anymore… I’m really sorry.”

“Oh…okay. I understand.”

That… that one really hurt.

I… I have to be careful today. I can’t lose Lucas too.

Looking around, I try to find a secluded corner I can—

“Nora.”

I look over to see Arthur waving me over and run up to him.

“Arthur? What are you doing here? Why would a noble have so much survival experience?”

“Haha, people do tend to assume that, but no. My parents were actually farmers out in the country.”

“You’re—but you’re the top… That’s—that’s really incredible, Arthur. Your parents—I can’t even imagine how proud they must be.”

“Ah, well, I would hope, but alas, I lost them when I was young.”

“I’m… so sorry, Arthur. I… actually went through the same thing.”

“I see, so that’s why you spent so much time observing monsters.”

“Um, I mean… in a sense.”

“And it’s also why the two of us need to work all the harder.” He smiles. “To one day achieve the peace and prosperity that will ensure no child has to shed tears over the loss of their parents ever again.”

Arthur… he really is an amazing person.

GONG! GONG!

“Well… bye, Arthur.”

“Hold up, where are you going? Come take a seat.”

“But… you really don’t mind me sitting next to me? Aren’t you worried about Petra’s crew? I thought word had gotten out about my scuffle with them.”

“Oh, please. A few ruffians like that don’t scare me. Sit down, I insist. I’d love to talk with you further.”

“R-r-really? W-well… okay.”

The first unit is about identifying useful and dangerous plants, so, like Beastiology, there’s not really any new information for me. However, the occasional chit chat with Arthur keeps me from getting bored, as does Miss Willowroot quizzing us.

Though my only real competition has been the girl from Petra’s crew, interestingly enough.

Apparently her name is Olive Bloodthorn. She’s short like me, with sly yellow eyes, bean-like eyebrows, a black facemask covering her mouth, and a short fancy fern green haircut. It blends long bangs, space buns with pink circlets of flowers wrapped around both, and short hair with the inside dyed red.

I get that she’s kind of a bully and all, but I mean, anybody that cares so much about nature can’t be that bad… right?

She’s actually been pretty formidable, I wonder if she’s having as much fun as I am?

“Broadleaf!” she answers, beating me to the punch.

“Correct,” Willowroot confirms.

“Just look at her, the only reason she knows all the answers is because she’s probably part plant herself,” a student mocks.

A bunch of the class giggle.

She snaps back. “Why don’t you—”

“H-hey!” I stand up. “I think it’s cool she knows so much!”

She looks shocked I’m defending her. I flash her a smile, but she ignores me and turns back around.

“Yeah, of course you would,” another student remarks.

The class laughs again.

Arthur shoots to his feet. “Anyone who thinks a lack of knowledge is something to be admired is a fool. Everyone here would do well to follow their example. This is critical knowledge that could mean the difference between life and death. I’d gladly take either of them in my party over someone who thinks themselves above learning the subject.

“Nyohohoho, well said!”

We both sit down.

“Um…t-thank you for s-sticking up for me, Arthur.”

“No need. Between this and Beastiology, your wealth of knowledge continues to impress me, Nora. You really are quite special.”

Heat rushes to my face.

“Um… thanks, Arthur. You’re really sweet.”

Maybe… maybe I don’t have to hide in a corner after all.