Infinite Farmer: A Plants vs Dungeon

“I don’t think so. Whatever it did with its energy makes it impervious to however those trees take in the energy around them. Even planting more won’t help with that, I think.” Tulland waved back at the blight, feeling the despair building up again. “And it will still be in there, getting stronger.”

Necia rubbed a handful of dirt into his hair.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself. Don’t be stupid. Whatever the situation is, both Systems think you took care of the problem in a long-term way. The blight just abandoned every bit of its forces out in the world. Every last bit of them. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I know that isn’t good news for it. You can’t treat this like it’s a bad thing, Tulland. You really can’t.” Necia stood up, held out her hand to help Tulland stand up, then started brushing the dirt out of his hair. “And sorry about the dirt. That was a step too far.”

“Not as much as you’d think.” Tulland’s Farmer’s Intuition was taking a closer look at the dirt just then, assuring him that it was fine for low-needs crops. “The trees are feeding back all the energy they absorbed into the soil. It’s recovering fast. After all this time in this place, it’s sort of nice to feel dirt that isn’t poisoned by blight.”

“Weird.” Yuri shook her head. “Both of you. Now come on, Tulland. There’s a lot of people who want to slap you on the back, and after we held off that army, you sort of owe it to them.”

The battle turned out to have gone pretty well. The strategies worked about as well as they could have, by which Amrand and Necia seemed to mean they had worked at all. There were some casualties, all of which were covered up by blankets some blessed planner had meant to bring. Tulland didn’t know any of them. He felt bad about that, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Amrand stood with him a while as he looked at where they had been gathered.

“They’ll be revered as heroes,” Amrand said. “There’s few enough of them that there will be statues of each and every one.”

The slapping on the back Yuri had predicted was very literally fulfilled, punctuated by cheers and hugs as Tulland moved through the crowd. For a while, he worried it would go on for hours, but he hadn’t taken into account how tired everyone was. Within a half hour or so, people started to set up camp, building fires and cooking food he had provided. Only the hardiest of animals had survived the blight, but there were still enough of those that there was meat and fish to eat with the vegetables. They all feasted before people sat back, relaxed, or even went to sleep.

“Now? We make sure we understand what’s happening with the blight. We verify that everything is as it appears.” Amrand stretched out his legs and began unlacing his shoes. “That’s one of the things we will start tomorrow.”

“And the others?”

“Too many to count.” He slipped his footwear off and shook the pebbles out of them before setting them off to the side, curling his toes a few times, and sighing. “That’s how it is when you rebuild a city.”

—

Six months later, the capital was still not what it had been. Tulland had never seen it in its glory, but everyone he had asked assured him it was larger, more beautiful, and busier than he had the powers to imagine.

Still, it was coming along. People still streamed in every day, at which point Amrand and his people assigned them plots of their own to build on and gardens to cultivate. The people brought in their own skills, too. A disproportionate amount of those that had survived were combat and survival classes, but among them were scientists, scholars, craftspeople, and even farmers. As they all poured their contributions in, the city flourished in a limited but very real way.

“Look at that, Tulland.” Necia leaned into Tulland’s unarmored side, looking very pretty in a plain cotton dress. They had been taking a walk around the city. “See that garden? The person who grew it is an archer. No farming skills at all. The soil here isn’t just recovered anymore. It’s better than it ever was.”

It was true. Tulland’s senses were in constant rapture every time he walked through the city. The trees had long since spent the blight power they had absorbed, but the work hadn’t stopped there. They took in sunlight and ambient magic from around them constantly, pumping it into the soil and enriching the planet around them even further.

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Tulland was planting as many more of his plants as he could. That was how he spent his days. They didn’t grow fast, and it would be years before any of the new plantings were any bigger than saplings. Still, each of them joined into a network with the trees, distributing the anti-blight energy further and further and recovering more and more of the land.

Food was no longer an issue as various dungeon rewards started to bring back the natural animal population and various beast-tamer classes made the most of the reintroduced species. Farmers were taking residence on the best plots and growing crops, and it turned out all of them had kept seeds safe during the crisis that were only now beginning to bloom again.

There was still a real problem with ecology, Tulland had been told, one that would require a lot of fixing before the world had enough biological diversity to be stable again. That was well and truly above his pay grade, although he was doing what he could to make new plants every day to help the efforts along. The really smart people did not seem worried. Not only did they think it would eventually recover, but seemed confident that the planet would be better than ever.

“I forgot to tell you I heard some scholars talking about this the other day. They think the planet is entering an agricultural golden age,” Necia said.

“Oh?” Tulland raised his head.

“Yeah. Apparently, up until the last generation or so, most of this continent was in constant war. Most of their history is killing. One of them… hold on. I have to show you how he talked.”

Necia stood back and slumped her shoulders while imitating a very knowing, smug look. Tulland had seen it on a lot of scholar’s faces, a particular kind who had got into the work just to feel smarter than everyone else. When she spoke, her voice carried the same know-it-all stance.

“It’s appropriately iroooonic.” Necia stretched out the vowel as if pleased with the sound of her own learned voice. “Since in the language of the ancients, Aghil means soil. I’ve done my calculations, which you know are always right, and we are entering a period of plenty that should preclude war.”

“He did not say he was always right,” Tulland pointed out.

“I might have taken some artistic liberties. I’m allowed. I’m the co-savior of the world, or something. The shield maiden of recovery.”

“Do you think he was right, though? About food ending war?”

“No idea. But if anything could, this would.” Necia waved her arm at the fields of green that had popped up every beyond the outskirts of the city. “The farmers are not messing around, and they barely put down seeds before they sprout. I think it’s going to be a very popular class, moving forward.”

That all sounded great, to Tulland. He finally really understood why his uncle had loved being a fisherman. Every day, he’d farm. Once Tulland was done with his work, he’d eat, play, and sleep. He’d spend time with his family, which had only recently become an official thing that existed through paperwork, ceremony, and actual spoken commitments.

There was not a single exciting thing in his life that didn’t have to do with people, routine work, and rest. That was just fine with him.

“Still.” Tulland looked behind him at a towering building in the center of town, one that had been built not to contain a terrible threat but to hide it. “There is still that.”

“It’s trapped. You know that. Every single scholar who worked on the problem says its stable. You could go in there and fight it, but you’d die almost immediately. It could try to spread its power, but the trees would eat it. We are safe,” Necia stated.

“Still. I’m going to figure out a way. I need a project, right? Why not that?”

“Because as long as your trees live, it can’t get out. And you said they’ll live hundreds of years, right?”

“Right.” Tulland gulped and told Necia then. She was the only person he had told besides the System, who had been there reading the same notification Tulland had when he learned it himself. “I’m the only person who can grow them, Necia. When I’m gone, nobody will ever be able to sprout another one.”

“Oh.” Necia’s face turned serious. “Still, hundreds of years is long enough to figure something out.”

“Maybe. Just… if I ever seem a little too Tulland about farming, you’ll know why. It still matters.”

“I’ll allow it. Just don’t forget, Tulland, that you can’t do any of that if you aren’t happy and fed. You earned rest, and you have to take it.” Necia tossed her hair saucily. “The princess commands it.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Tulland watched as Necia spotted a food cart and raced off to buy a late breakfast. He would figure something out, eventually. Even if he didn’t owe it to the planet, he owed it to her. Eventually, he’d make this place safe, one way or another.

You know I could solve it right now. Maybe.

You mentioned that plan. I said no.

It had done more than that. Tulland had not known the System was capable of yelling at him until he had suggested the one course of action he could take that would very probably kill the blight once and for all.

And I agreed!

You agreed because you know you aren’t ready for it. I’m saying no forever, Tulland. For your entire very long life. You are my friend. I am yours. Any life I live is seen through your eyes, and I won’t let you throw away the reward you bled for.

I’m still going to prepare.

And I won’t stop you from doing that. When the time comes, I won’t even stop you from trying your plan. But not until the time comes. You can ask me any time you want, but get ready for me to saynot yet.

Until when?

Oh, a long time.

Tulland waited through the System’s thoughtful pause, entertaining himself by watching a very excited Necia bounce back to him carrying a huge plate of fried meat and noodles.

Not until this planet blooms. You are a farmer, Tulland. I saw to that. And you have a lot of work left to do.