The Aniceta family has had a rather, peculiar occupation for millennia.
Ever wonder who takes care of the occult's more mundane tasks? That is, care for the occult, and not get eaten?
Generation after generation of Aniceta women have been tasked wi...
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"Mother, what's wrong?"
Mother entered the house just as I was walking through the foyer to the kitchen for breakfast. Her face was glum and heavy as though she had just got the worst news.
"Renovation for the cathedral has been approved...", she sighed heavily.
"Renovation? It was just remodeled 3 years ago! What need do they have for it? Other than for that old man's vanity?", I protested.
She sighed in defeat, "I tried to convince them otherwise at the town hall this morning, but despite the commoners protest, the town leaders have decided to go ahead with the plan. They plan to utilize the old eastern forest"
I let out a breath of shock. That area hosts some of the oldest trees in the region.
"Is there—"
"No", Mother quickly answered.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
"We at least have cuttings from each tree, right? We even got ones from all of the new sprouts... So, the tree spirits are safe..."
The tree spirits. A lot of, but not all trees, have spirits. And not many humans can see them. I think that's about the only special thing I can say my family has, is the ability to see them. Usually, they aren't troublesome to care for, but it can get busy when the town needs wood for building. Cutting the trees displaces the spirits, so we have to find empty trees for them to live. Luckily, every generation of caretakers safeguard against the influx by taking cuttings of the spirits' trees and propagating them in pots just in case. This has saved us quite a few headaches over the years on both the human and spirits side. Relocation is swift as they can feel the still living piece of their tree in my family's garden and they follow the signal to here. If the land is not being cleared for use, we replant their new tree in the spot the old one once stood, if they so desire. Many choose to stay in the garden for the safety, especially the elder trees, and help out.
"Safe, but if we've missed any we could be dealing with an overwhelming influx...", Mother added.
She rubbed her temples in aggravation, then suddenly turned around. A gloomy looking man stood behind her.
"Uncle Amerland!", I exclaimed.
He nodded to me, but only addressed my mother.
"What's the trouble?", Mother immediately asked.
My mother's older brother, Amerland, rarely shows face, except for when there's trouble afoot. He works as the record's keeper in the palace and the Aniceta informant for occult-related matters.
"The King also wants to thin the southern forest. Says it could be a breeding ground for enemies of the crown..."
"That's Elven territory!"
"But he doesn't know that. I've kept those records hidden away as you requested. It may be time to—"
"That may make this situation worse. He may deem them as unwanted, thus enemies"
