The Harvest Sprites erupted into chaos. They flipped the table, scurried everywhere—some dove under beds, one wrapped itself in a blanket, another hid in a potted plant, pretending to be foliage. The blanket-wrapped Sprite wailed, "Staid! How dare you bring a human here?! He'll kill us!"
"He'll cook us into soup!" another chimed in.
"He'll let that dog tear us apart!" one whimpered.
"He… he'll… tickle us till we faint!" sobbed the one under the bed.
They conjured every worst-case scenario, some so absurd they sounded like the apocalypse. Luis did nothing, letting them panic and scream. After a while, they tired themselves out, and the chaos subsided. They could only stare at him, panting.
Luis stepped to the table, pulled two tiny chairs together, and sat. The red-hatted Sprite shrieked, "That's my favorite chair! It's ruined, I'll never sit in it again! Boo hoo hoo!"
It bawled, triggering the rest to wail, mourning their tragic fate. Luis propped his chin on his hand, waiting for the drama to end. He was used to his kid's tantrums. These Sprites were no different from overgrown children. Let them cry. Speaking now would make them think their tears swayed him, and they'd weaponize it later.
When the last Sprite stopped sobbing, silence crept into the house. No one spoke. Staid hid behind the door, quiet, looking guilty for leading Luis here. It felt the weight of betrayal. Glimmer, meanwhile, darted around, spooking the frailer Sprites.
Time to speak: "Alright! Done crying?"
A few Sprites nodded nervously.
"Good. Let's get to the point. I'm not here to hurt you, got it?" His eyes swept the room. Some nodded, signaling they understood.
"I'm here to give you gifts!"
"Gifts?"
"What gifts?"
"For me?"
"Where are they?"
The chaos reignited. Some were excited, others skeptical, a few searched for the promised gifts.
"QUIET!" Luis barked. The Sprites shrank, retreating to their hiding spots.
"I mean, I wanted to know where you live so I can bring gifts in the coming days! A few each day, everyone gets a share! Sound good?" He waved the Blue Grass in his hand.
"Will you give me one?"
"Me too!"
"I don't like Blue Grass, I want Red Grass!"
"Purple Grass! Purple Grass! Purple Grass!"
This was easier than he thought. Luis smirked slyly. The Harvest Sprites weren't very bright, like kids—easily excited, gift-obsessed, and disorganized. He'd have to whip them into shape later. Tyranny required military discipline to succeed. Ideas for turning these little guys into slaves—er, loyal assistants—sprang to mind.
"Everyone gets gifts, but each time, I'll only give them to a few lucky ones! Agreed?"
"Me, me, me! I'll be the lucky one!"
"No, it's me!"
"Give it to anyone, but don't forget me!"
"Purple Grass! Purple Grass! Purple Grass!"
That counted as agreement, he thought, exasperated.
"One thing, though. This house is invisible. How do I get in to deliver gifts?"
"Easy peasy!"
"Just walk around the house…"
"Three times!"
"Yeah!"
"Carter does it too!"
They chimed in, each adding a piece.
"Carter?" His hunch was right—the pastor was hiding something. Why didn't he tell the townsfolk about the Sprites? Why were they so scared of humans? Was Carter brainwashing them?
He pressed, "Does Carter come here often?"
"Yeah!"
"All the time!" one nodded.
"He brings lots of food!"
"Carter's a good guy!"
"Totally, super good!"
Luis pondered. Why was Carter looking after the Sprites? Could it be…
"Does Carter ever ask you to do things for him?"
"No! Never!"
"Wait, I think he does!"
"Yeah, he does!"
"We helped with a sick cow for Carter yesterday!"
"I watered grapes! Been a while."
So, Carter was using the Sprites to help the townsfolk. The cow belonged to Barley, the grapes to a farm Luis couldn't recall. But why hide their existence? Were the ghost rumors and disappearing items Carter's doing?
"Do you ever take human stuff? Like the pile of lumber at this clearing—did you take it?"
"No!"
"We don't steal!"
"Stealing's bad!"
"Yeah, Carter said so!"
"Bad people! Bad people!"
This town had secrets, Luis thought. But why care? It wouldn't put food on the table. His mission was to rebuild the farm and become Mineral Town's richest man. Unrelated drama wasn't his business. He'd already conned the naive Sprites. The future looked bright.
He held off on asking them to help with the farm. They weren't close or trusting enough yet. Though gullible, they weren't that easy to manipulate. He'd gift them for a few days, then casually ask for small favors, gradually luring them into becoming slaves—er, trusty assistants.
In the game, he tracked their affection via hearts. Here, there was no such tool. He'd need to observe closely and experiment. But manipulating their psyche? For him, it was like taking candy from a baby.
He stood, stretching. "Alright, it's late! I'll help you clean up, then head out. Lend a hand, everyone! By the way, I'm Luis."
"Luis is great!"
"Yeah, a good guy!"
"Like Carter, right?"
Even while working, the Sprites chattered nonstop, giving him a slight headache. They definitely needed discipline, he thought.
Once done, he left the house, bidding farewell to his "adorable" assistants. He didn't forget to give the Blue Grass to Staid, proving he kept his word. The other Sprites eyed Staid with envy.
On the way back, he glanced at the church on the hill. Late at night, its lights still glowed, like a beacon for lost sheep returning to God. But Luis wasn't one of those sheep. He turned his back on the light and walked the opposite way.
Fate might not be his to decide, but he'd face it on his own terms.