The coldest days of winter had passed, and Spring Awakening Festival loomed—Etho's most important holiday, celebrating new life and praying for a bountiful harvest. In Sarneth Town, the old temple's priest would lead prayers to the Harvest God, though Leon had never seen any divine signs. The temple was a simple stone structure, weathered by time, its walls bare of decorations.
Leon had once thought gods didn't exist, but after learning about the church's history from Im, he felt a quiet respect for the priest. Trapped in a remote town, with no divine response and mages overshadowing religion, what kept him faithful? The temple survived on small donations and a few fields tended by peasants—barely enough to sustain itself.
"Nobles don't care much about gods here," Im had explained. "Mages hold more power, so commoners follow suit. The empire tolerates religion because it keeps people calm, but that's it."
On a bright morning with temperatures above freezing, Im announced they were going to collect maple sap to make maple sugar. Sugar maples were rare in Sarneth—their sap was rich in sugar, but the trees took twenty years to mature and yielded little. Most sugar was imported from the west, making it more expensive than salt, only slightly cheaper than honey.
In a corner of Linden Pine Valley, Im had found a small grove—six sugar maples total, only three old enough to tap. The largest was so thick, Leon couldn't wrap his arms around it; the others were smaller, likely its offspring. Young saplings sprouted nearby, too small to tap—they'd take two decades to mature, long enough for Leon to have children of his own.
Im drilled small holes—five centimeters deep, angled upward—into the trunks, four holes for the smaller trees and six for the largest. He inserted split metal tubes into the holes, then placed wooden buckets below to catch the sap. The sap dripped slowly, a thin stream that barely filled the buckets. "We'll come back tomorrow to collect it," Im said.
On the walk back, Leon asked, "If sugar's so expensive, why doesn't anyone plant more maples?"
Im snorted. "Few people have foresight. A sugar maple takes twenty years to tap. Overharvesting damages the tree, reducing next year's yield. Who wants to invest in something that won't pay off for decades?"
Flower spoke up. "I heard about a lord in Limeze Province who planted sugar maples for generations. They covered hillsides, and the family rose from viscount to count. But during the war with the neighboring kingdom, enemy soldiers burned the groves. The count died of a broken heart."
Leon winced. It was like losing years of code to a system crash—devastating. "Why didn't other lords copy him after the war?"
"Fear," Im said. "Losing a lifetime of work is too painful. It's easier to import sugar than risk it." He glanced at Flower. "But you could try. A mage can protect a grove. Plant a hundred trees a year, and in twenty years, you'll have three or five hundred producing sap. It's not a fortune, but it's a legacy."
Flower fell silent, thoughtful. Leon hoped he'd take the advice—foresight was a rare gift.
The next morning, they returned to the grove. The buckets were half-full, enough to fill a large pot. Back at Moonlight Cottage, Im heated the sap over the fire. The sweet, woody aroma filled the air as the liquid condensed, turning from clear to golden, then thickening like honey. When all the water evaporated, they were left with crumbly, amber maple sugar.
Dahlia popped a piece into her mouth, her eyes lighting up. "It's sweeter than honey! Why is this so rare?"
"Because good things take time," Leon said, smiling. He thought of the sugar maples, the greenhouse he planned, the ruin he promised to explore. Nothing worth having came quickly.
As Spring Awakening Festival approached, the valley felt alive with quiet hope. The cow grazed contentedly on Green Net Grass, the herb garden's ice crystal grass matured, and Valoka's answer would arrive with spring. Leon stood by the sugar maples, watching the sap drip, and felt a deep sense of peace.
He was building something lasting—friendships, skills, a legacy—one small step at a time. And in the world of Etho, where magic and survival walked hand in hand, that was the greatest victory of all.