One chilly morning in Ward City, the acclaimed Stephen Silworth was visited in his office, which was owned by a bank, was located at the intersection of Maker Street and F… Caker Street under the number B112. That morning was not exceptionally different to the others as it was without any special trees to bloom nearby in this satisfying spring of seasonal seriousness.

And yet, impressive incapability found its way to Stephen. Some buffoon baron rushed in an instant as soon as Stephen finished his morning coffee. Bashing the door in, the customer started to glare at him viciously. After a moment, he exclaimed angrily. “There is a fucking tree, SHITTING in my GARDEN every damn MORNING!”

“It’s the by-product of photosynthesis. That is what you inhale. It’s elementary, my dear baron.” Noted Stephen almost sleeping.

“NO, NO, It is an actual tree with a rectum and stuff. It comes to my place, crouches, shits and goes away…”

“Oh, then it is a treant. What is the colour of its excrement?” It seemed Stephen’s eyes suddenly shone of excitement, but, honestly, he felt a sudden urge to leave for a particular room that has ties to the very happenings at the Baron’s holding, the Verschafft Domäin.

“Seemed like autumn to me.”

“Then you are fucked. Its more than five thousand years old. Accept it, buy some pigs and let them eat its excrement. You should be grateful for being given such business opportunity.”

“I don’t want a tree damping in my garden.” Said Baron Mitwoch furiously, almost enraged like sadwraiths when seeing happy couples let loose in the public.

“There is nothing we can do. You want me to piss around your garden, marking that it is my territory, or what?”

“For starters…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The only things that can kill a treant are the end of the world, a forest fire, another treant or the Armageddon. If you mess with trees, man, they come for you, and you can cry uncle but that won’t help you then…”

“Are you truly the famous Stephen Silworth? Somebody, who cannot even take care of a tree?” asked the Baron diminishing the detective’s competence.

“I will not charge at one of the demigods of the forests willingly, but please, if you think it is a good idea, do so. Stupidity always has its way.”

“I’ll come back…” he said in a conceited manner and left.

Strangely, the day was quiet, nobody rushed in for help, well except for that particular person. Since Stephen had nowhere to stay, he slept at his office, as always. He even had a small bathroom and a kitchen merged with the office, but nobody had taken notice of that. Having a lot of free time, he read his grandfather’s notes on treants, one of whom used the Grandpa as toilet paper, when he had gone too close. Stephen deduced the following: “If you include hot pepper into their diet, they might start having a diarrhoea, which means it won’t be able to sense the old place. They a have a strange organ with which they know where they did stuff, and usually return to do the particular activity the same place. Their memory are dull but the aptitude for a particular subject increases with the amount of time spent in one particular place. I heard a treant spent a hundred years to paint a turtle time and time again. But when his model departed, the treant killed itself. They are strangely emotional. And they hate vegans. They are threatening to destroy their environment. They never considered plant’s feelings…” He wrote the necessary information down, and fell asleep.

The next morning, the particular person came back with some shady papers that made compulsory for Stephen to solve the case.

“You will do as I said. I have brought you an edict.”

“What kind?”

“F4RT-Type OH. You have to give me your regular service, nothing too hasty.”

“Alright, sign the contract.” He signed it. “Now pay me.”

“I will not pay… Besides, we did not agree in a sum.”

“Then I will infuriate the treant, tell him it was you and see your fucking estate razed to the ground, or I’ll fucking obliterate your companies and your corrupt comrades simply by summoning the Horde of The Dawn. You know what that is?” Stephen was strangely calm.

“No.”

“Don’t worry, you asshole will know…”

“What?”

“I call them the Angels of Angles. They never fail aiming. They are creatures that have machines, which harvest sexual tension. Then they convert that energy to magic. The rectum is one of the strongest centre of potentially harvestable magical energy in the human body.”

“It is compulsory for you to help me…”

“Under standard policies, which has this is in the small prints. If the customer did not pay the necessary amount of money, I can have them raped.”

“What?”

“And now you have to pay me. It’s compulsory.”

“What the fuck…”

“You pay?”

“Should I?”

“You try?”

“Rather pay…”

“A million Wardling.”

“What? This is not what we agreed on…”

“The contract says that if we haven’t agreed on a specific sum, I determine the amount of money the customer have to pay. This or I have you raped.”

“I can only pay by cheque…”

“My bank accepts it.” He smirked.

“I’ll pay…”

“Now…”

The Baron took out his chequebook and give the money to Stephen. This money was enough to buy half a skyscraper in the midst of the city, or an emerging software company. Or the estate, the Baron bought.

“Now we go to the bank. Let’s go.”

The Baron did not move. “You’ll pay for this.”

“No, you…” Stephen smirked again.

“That does it…”

“You to pay?”

“Heh?”

“Just accept it.” Said Stephen.

“My bank is on the corner.”

“That is good for me. That is mine, too.”

The Baron started to walk towards the exit. After five minutes of forced march, they arrived at the Gelder Bank. When they entered, the Baron asked for the owner, who firmly greeted him in a mere two hours.

“I have to transfer money to this rat.” Explained the Baron to his big brother, when he finally got inside. Stephen had to wait outside.

“To him? Why?”

“I have a contract…”

“How much?” asked the relative

“A million.”

“You’ll go bankrupt…”

“There is a treant at my new estate, and he tricked me…”

“Tricked?” asked the relative.

“I have a contract with him that I cannot break...”

“What is his name again?”

“Stephen Silworth.”

“He tricked me once, too. But I raised his interests to that point he couldn’t pay.”

“Could you help me with this?”

“I hear you. I’ll give him back his office. I owe you for saving one of my companies.” He took out a paper that was used to decline transaction. Then he took a ‘Certification of Ownership’ out from one of his filing cabinets and filled it. He searched for the rest of the papers and gave them to his brother.

“Thank you.”

“You invited me there, right?”

“There will be a party on Sunday.”

“See you then.” The Baron withdrew to Stephen.

“The bank did not let me pay that much, but I bought you back your office…”

“That is great. Thank you.” He was grateful, knowing that he would have lost the building in three days due to the huge interests the bank had. “Do you have a car?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“There are some taxi drivers over there…” he pointed at the green cars.

“You pay?”

“We should divide the cost.”

“True.” They went to the taxi. Getting in, the Baron told the taxi driver the address, who made haste for it. It was a silent journey, to say the least.

On arrival, Stephens saw the huge tree activating its protocol number two. Then the Baron started to talk.

“What do treants eat?”

“They stay stationary and absorb minerals. That is enough for them. Do you have hot spice at home?”

“Yes. Chili.”

“How much?”

“Two or three packs.”

“Can I take some of the manure?”

“Yes, as much as you want.”

“Do you see those holes in the ground? Scatter some chili there, and repeat until the treant disappears. If that did not succeed in three days, come back. Your contract will burn itself if I completed the job. So if it did not happen, come back.”

Stephen asked the taxi driver to take him back. He never heard of the Baron again, but he felt he did something he shouldn’t have. After all, causing a diarrhoea to anyone is a horrible atrocity, but to a tree is somewhat remarkable.