They were hurt. They didn't understand.
He exhaled gently.

His head turned to set his gaze back upon Ranjiri, her queries hanging like dust motes on sunlight in the space between them. He applauded her ability to proffer debate, unfortunately the topic wasn't up for change, not today at least.

"It would," he agreed with her, nodding slightly, his beard swaying with the movement. "Yet, is a group project not within your own means already?" he asked her in turn, his voice slow and steady, exemplifying the patience of the earth which shifts gradually beneath weather and time, which grows steadily among sun and water and soil. "You are capable of coming together to build something grand even now, yet you instead request it of me." How much had he already given them? His protection among his lands, his wisdom with their new leadership, and his talents for those newly ranked. Yet they think it's not enough, that they must request something greater, something with which to impress all of Helovia.

He would be impressed if they were more self sufficient.

He doesn't however, say this. He understands their confidence is shaken. He recognizes the delicate strength they have collected under, one he has already helped construed, but that's part of the problem, isn't it? He's come to rescue them too often, too keen to meddle in their affairs when his other siblings are apt to let their charges flail. It always hurt him to watch that, and so he took to a greater kindness for his own herd, but now he's recognizing the ripple effect it's caused. Perhaps some minor flailing would do them good; it would be painful at first, but through that pain they would grow stronger, because it'd be on themselves that they lean instead of him.

Reject them now and survive the momentary suffrage, or grant them a quest he already knows they could never complete, and watch them suffer far greater for that loss. Perhaps the Moon would be so cruel as to grant them such a hopeless request, if only for the amusement, but he loves them too much, even if they can't yet see that. No, he would first have them learn to to build anything by their own accord. "You do not need me to come together or to build something great. You need each other."

They wanted to be a strong and mighty tree, but they were still an acorn in the ground, ready to sprout. He had the ability to transform them, but to what end? A tree is only impressive for the time it takes to grow, for the life it weaves with the steady strength of its own roots and the undying will to reach above and spread its leaves. An acorn does not lament the dry season, it merely waits for that first rain, and weathers whatever storms may come. That knowledge, those tempests, make the tree mighty. "As I said, learn to fulfill the daily needs of the herd with the newly appointed ranks. You may be surprised at your own abilities. Now if there are no further questions, I'll leave the herd in all of your very capable hooves."