Spring turned to summer, and the camellia seeds Leon had planted in Eldrin's cellar sprouted into small trees, their leaves glossy and green. He transplanted them into the cottage courtyard, where they got plenty of sunlight, and watered them daily with rainwater he collected in a clay jar. Eldrin watched him, his eyes softening as the trees grew— Kael had tried to grow camellias once, too, and failed. Now, Leon was succeeding where his old apprentice had not.
By mid-summer, the camellias bloomed— white flowers, delicate and fragrant, their petals soft as silk. Isabella visited often, twirling in the courtyard as the scent filled the air, while Leon picked blooms to tuck behind her ear. "They're beautiful," she said, smiling.
As the flowers faded, small green fruits grew in their place, round and firm. Leon knew that inside the fruits were seeds rich in oil— camellia oil, a luxury the village only used on solstice, prized for cooking and healing. He wanted to press the oil himself, to make it abundant for his family and the village.
He studied the book he'd bought in Sarneth Town, which had sketches of a wooden press. With Eldrin's help, they gathered wood— sturdy oak, for strength— and set to work. Eldrin taught him to carve gears, to fit the pieces together, to oil the joints so they turned smoothly. It was slow work, his small hands sore from carving, but Leon persisted. He wanted the press to be perfect— something that would last for years.
Weeks later, the press was finished: a simple frame with a lever, a wooden basin for the camellia pulp, and a linen sack to strain the oil. Leon and Eldrin picked the ripe fruits, crushed them into a pulpy paste, and loaded the paste into the sack. Leon pushed down on the lever, his muscles burning, as golden oil trickled out, dripping into a clay jar below.
The oil smelled of honey and flowers, rich and sweet. Leon dipped a finger into it, tasting it— clean, bright, far better than the small jar they'd saved for solstice. Erika fried trout in it that night, and the house filled with a scent so sweet, neighbors knocked on the door to ask what it was.
Leon bottled the oil in small clay jars, sealing the lids with wax. He gave jars to his family, to Eldrin, to the miller who'd helped with the wasp nest. "It's for cooking, for healing," he told them. "Camellia oil keeps wounds from sticking, keeps bread soft, makes fish taste like a feast."
As he watched Erika smile while cooking with the oil, Leon felt a quiet pride. He'd turned a rare seed into something abundant, a luxury into a necessity. It was proof of how far he'd come— from a silent, vacant child to a boy who could grow, build, and provide.