I looked around and sighed. Lavender bushes hummed with bees, tall sunflowers danced like lazy guards, and cobblestone paths meandered between vegetables, herbs, and hanging vines. It was a rare moment of calm. I knelt beside a small wooden bench, backpack at my feet, as Divina and Finn joined me. She wore a simple green dress today, her silvery-blonde hair tied in a loose braid, while Finn—clutched a wooden dragon toy Kael had carved for him.
"You said you had something special to show us?" Divina asked, arching a brow.
"Not just special," I replied, pulling open the flap of my magical backpack, "but nostalgic."
From within, I carefully retrieved a small ceramic pot holding a miniature pine tree—its twisted trunk bent in graceful arcs, delicate needles gently ruffled by the wind. Moss lined the soil like a velvet carpet. The tiny tree stood no taller than my forearm, yet it radiated elegance… discipline… balance.
Divina gasped softly, kneeling beside me. "What is it?"
"This… is a bonsai," I said, voice quieter now. "A living art form from my world. My grandfather used to grow these in his garden. Said they taught patience, care, and how to respect the shape of time."
Finn leaned in, eyes wide. "It's a tiny tree!"
I chuckled. "Yes, it is. A tree that takes years to grow this way."
Divina traced a finger along the shape of the trunk. "It looks… deliberate. Like a story frozen in wood."
"That's exactly what it is," I replied. "Each bend, each cut—it's shaped slowly, over time. You don't force it. You guide it. Like raising a child or building a home."
She smiled at that. "Sounds like you've done both."
"I try," I said, reaching into my pack again.
I pulled out a small pruning scissors, a shallow ceramic pot, wire, pebbles, and a tiny sapling I'd prepared earlier. "Today, I want to teach you both how to make one."
Finn clapped in excitement. "Can mine be a dragon tree?"
"We'll do our best," I said, laughing. "But we'll start simple."
As we sat together, I showed them step-by-step how to trim the roots gently, how to place the tree slightly off-centre in the pot for balance, how to wrap the copper wire around the trunk without hurting it, and how to prune selectively so the branches spread in harmony.
Divina watched my hands carefully, then mirrored my motions. "There's something calming about this," she murmured. "Like the world slows down."
"That's why my grandfather loved it," I said quietly, lost in the memory of his weathered hands, his soft humming, and the sunbeams that used to spill across his garden bench back home.
Finn's sapling, of course, ended up a little crooked—but he insisted it looked like it was bowing like a warrior. We all laughed.
"You're good at this," Divina said, her gaze warm.
"It reminds me of home," I admitted. "But teaching it here… sharing it with others… that's something new. Something better, maybe."
She nodded. "You're planting roots, my lord. Not just trees. I can smell its magic, each root, each bark. This tree wields magic that is unique among the others."
I looked at the tiny bonsai sitting beside her—shaped by care and hope—and smiled.
"Yeah," I said softly. "And watching them grow."
As I left them tending the small, shimmering sapling, I felt a quiet certainty: the Divine Tree's name would indeed flourish across the kingdom—starting with simple hands, honest hearts, and fertile ground.
Meanwhile, back at the manor:
Kael and Sylphy gathered the first group of potential recruits inside the great hall.
Adventurers, young warriors, and even some older villagers stood nervously in a loose line, clutching bows, swords, or farming tools turned into weapons.
Felix stood at the front, arms crossed, surveying them critically.
I joined them, arms behind my back.
"It's time we start building not just defenders," I said, "but an elite force. Those willing to dedicate themselves to protecting this land—and each other."
Kael nodded. "We'll separate them by skill later. But for now… we need loyalty first."
"Character," Sylphy added. "We can teach skills. Loyalty and heart… not so easily."
Felix gave a grunt of approval.
I stepped forward, addressing the recruits.
"This is not about gold or glory," I said clearly. "It's about home. About protecting something bigger than yourselves."
"If you stay," I continued, "you will be trained, equipped, and trusted. Betray that trust..."
I let the threat hang in the air and saw several of them swallow hard.
"You'll be known as the First Shields of Robinson Territory."
The room buzzed with excitement.
Another ding.
Quest Progress Update:
The next morning, at sunrise, the manor grounds shook with the sound of Kael's voice.
"UP! MOVE! AGAIN!"
He barked commands like a seasoned general, while Felix walked between the lines of recruits with a heavy wooden staff, rapping it sharply against the ground whenever someone faltered.
The first group of First Shields of Robinson's Territory—forty-eight recruits so far—sweated under the rising sun, practising basic sword drills and formation tactics.
Sylphy sat casually on the manor steps, idly tossing a small dagger into the air and catching it with a bored expression.
"You call those swings? My grandmother could hit harder—and she's been dead for thirty years!" Kael roared.
Some recruits gritted their teeth, others flushed with embarrassment—but none dared quit.
Meanwhile, Felix's men—the ex-mercenaries now wielding the new guns—oversaw smaller squads.
The sleek, simple rifles, powered by a combination of magic stone cartridges and physical force, cracked loudly as they fired at practice dummies.
Felix, inspecting the rows of riflemen, gave a rare smirk.
"They'll learn. Fast," he said quietly to me.
I nodded. "They'll have to."
At the same time, in the Divine Garden, under the watchful eye of Divina and her young son Finn, the garden flourished overnight. Though it made me wonder, Why that soon?
New flowers bloomed in strange colours—soft blues that shimmered like mist and deep golds that sparkled faintly in the light.
Around the small silver-green sapling of the Fruit of Eternity, Divina had planted a delicate circle of Moonshade Blossoms—flowers said to absorb mana and strengthen nearby plants.
Finn, grinning proudly, pointed at one particularly strange flower—a luminous, violet bloom with silver veins.
"We named it!" he told me when I visited. "Mama said we should call it Starweave!"
I knelt beside him, smiling.
"Perfect name. You're doing amazing work, both of you."
Divina bowed her head shyly. "We'll make the Divine Garden the pride of this kingdom, my lord."
"You already have," I said warmly.