Unorthodox Farming: Chaper 18 (Patreon)

We're back on track now, so I hope you enjoy the story. Chapter 18

Tunnel Vision

Farentine's townhouse was a difficult place to live when she wasn't there. There was no kitchen. No pantry. No laundry. No place to hang your clothes out to dry or do the dishes. No way to fill the reservoir in the ceiling that fed the tap above the bathtub, except for a pump with a tiny handle that was only a few inches long. It was tucked away so you wouldn't notice it among all the books and was designed to be operated by someone who had a lot more strength than I did.

None of this was a problem for Farentine. Whenever she needed something, she purchased it from the system. There were nearby shops that would work just as well, but I had one little problem. Misk had reached out to close friends and acquaintances to see if it was safe for me to walk around alone with my Champion's mark. There were enough murmurs about a champion who was so weak that they needed their help to be concerned, which was why they didn't want me leaving the house without Torvac there to protect me.

They had no issue with me living by myself. Farentine's wards were strong enough to keep out anyone except a champion. But taking a step outside without Torvac beside me came with too many risks. Those risks weren't just to me alone.

My killer would be rolling the dice and risking going feral. They could become a blood thirsty monster, killing everything in sight until someone put them down. Considering how high my killer's level was likely to be, hundreds could be slaughtered before they were executed.

Farentine had assured me that any threat to my person was only temporary. Right now, the public viewed me as a weak champion who needed the assistance of a powerful adventurer and wizard to deal with a few dwarves. After I used my champion ability, I would be known as a champion who could one-hit a dragon. After that, even if someone killed me for my mark and survived, no kingdom would take them in.

Killing a useless champion could be overlooked.

Killing a useful one made you the enemy of mankind.

I woke to a loud knock from the front door.

Farentine had organised for her chef to deliver food after the morning and evening rush, so the knock meant breakfast was on the front step. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and forced myself out of bed. Farentine's townhouse might have been sparsely decorated, but she didn't buy cheap furniture. Her armchairs and couch were made for lazing, and her bed was so damn comfortable I was going to ask her to purchase me one from the system so I could ship it to Blackwood.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the staircase, waking a little more with each step. Instead of heading for the front door when I reached the ground floor, I made my way into the bathroom. I filled a tankard with water from the tap, guzzled it down to get rid of my cotton balls, and then put the tankard back on the bookshelf.

Feeling a little more awake, I wandered to the front door to collect breakfast.

Not having to wake up for work had made me fall into my old rhythms. I was going to bed a few hours before the sun came up and waking up only when Farentine's chef knocked on the door to tell me that my breakfast was ready.

As I reached for the doorhandle a deep voice came from the sitting room down the hallway behind me. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Landlord Arnold."

I knew the voice, but it didn't belong anywhere near the Capitol, so my legs launched me into the air as a small shriek escaped my lips. My feet landed on my heels as my body seized with fright. I clutched my chest, heart rate skyrocketing. Any trace of sluggishness was gone as adrenaline flooded through my system.

I pivoted on the spot, eyes darting down the short, narrow hallway to the sitting room entrance. The door was wide open, like it had been when I went to bed. I hadn't bothered to check inside as I passed.

"Are you here to kill me, Chief Durg'un?"

It was an important question.

Chief Durg'un paused. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have mentioned the adventurer aiming a crossbow at the door behind you."

Durg'un had a point. This close, he could also kill me whenever he wanted, so even if he was here to kill me, there was nothing that I could do to stop him. I used my charisma to suppress my emotions and walked to the sitting room's entrance.

I peered inside. Durg'un was sitting in Farentine's armchair, dressing in a white shirt and trousers. His eyes had a gentle blue glow, which told me he was casting some form of spell, likely to monitor what was going on outside.

His state of dress told me this was a social visit.

I walked over to the keg in the corner of the room. I'd purchased it when Torvac took me shopping. I filled two tankards and offered Durg'un one before sitting on the couch across from him. Durg'un's nose wrinkled as he looked at the ale, but he drained the tankard dry.

The ale was perfect quality, but it was also a human brew, so far beneath his dwarven standards. The only reason he drank it was that dwarven hospitality required him to.

I emptied mine just as fast, and my mood began to improve as my Socialite ability kicked in. A heart attack was not how I liked to start my day. Once the alcohol got to work, I stopped suppressing my emotions.

Durg'un stared at my empty tankard as I placed it on the coffee table, before meeting my gaze.

I leaned back and rested my elbow on the armrest. "Why are you here, Chief Durg'un?"

"Because I'm a hopeless fool who dreams of a better tomorrow. And because there is an adventurer across the street who is here to kill you."

"If you keep being vague, I'll offer you another ale."

Durg'un's face split into a wide grin as he lost control and laughed. It was a rich, deep sound that let me relax further. Dwarven humour was significantly different to human humour, and my joke had apparently landed on an eager audience, because he was slapping his leg with tears in his eyes for the next half a minute.

When Durgun finally settled, he gave me a relaxed smile. "I'm here to protect you."

"I would thank you, but I doubt you're here because you're concerned about my well-being."

Durg'un and I had a working relationship, not friendship. It was hard to be friends with someone who valued your species less than theirs.

"You're correct," Durg'un replied.

"Why are you protecting me then?"

"I'm protecting you because King Grorion's new weapon ensures that any dwarf who kills a Village Eater alone now becomes a chief. They all possess a weaker version of the ability that you tested in the forest two weeks ago."

My eyes widened at the implications. "I don't know what you are talking about, and even if I did, you shouldn't have shared that with me."

I could be executed for sharing my champion ability with the dwarves. Durg'un could be executed for doing the same with humans. He was playing a dangerous game, and I didn't know why.

Durg'un looked me in the eye and nodded, understanding my response. "Our version of your ability converts each remaining point of stamina and mana to one point of piecing and magic damage. The cooldown lasts a day. When my people realised that the new chiefs were all gaining the same ability, we realised yours was likely stronger. Based on the amount of dirt displaced at the testing site, I estimate that your ability is more than five times stronger."

"Stop talking."

The dwarves were more forgiving about this sort of thing, but not that forgiving.

Durg'un smiled. "My king wishes you to be aware of the situation."

That changed things.

"You've given your oath to a king?"

He hadn't the last time I saw him.

"I will."

I frowned at his cryptic response. "You're planning something."

He nodded.

"Something big."

He nodded again.

"Something worth risking your life for.  

He nodded one final time. "The dwarven kingdoms were already in turmoil. We are trying to prevent disaster."

"Why are they in turmoil?"

"Grorion began selling access to the Chief's mark shortly after we returned with the crossbow you used to kill the Village Eater. His kingdom now grows by the day. Each knew chief is as twisted as he is, trading their clan's loyalty for personal power."

Dwarven clans were built around female dwarves and how closely they were related to prominent dwarves. The more prestigious the dwarf, the larger the pool of female relatives they would draw to their side. From what I had read, it was a complex system with nuance.

A chief's mark was one of the few situations that lacked nuance. Any dwarf who gained one would immediately find every female third cousin or closer knocking on their door, demanding to be allowed to follow them. Their harem of male dwarves would follow along obediently like lovesick puppies.

"How many of those weapons has he made?" I asked, wearily.

Memories of the dirt mound's destruction filled my mind. It was like I'd dropped a bomb on it. Even a weaker version would be deadly.

"A few dozen. Most have already been used. But each week he produces more."

My stomach rolled, nausea bubbling through me. If it came to war, we had no chance of winning now. Our champions were sitting ducks.

"How is this related to me?"

Durg'un gave me a level look. "Ririon has always wished to establish his own kingdom, but his inability to scale production of his most profitable brews has prevented him from generating the wealth necessary to do so."

Was he here for a loan?

"I don't have the sort of money."

"I'm aware of that. However, I am also aware that you now have an ability that will allow you to travel to Lunar with me in the coming months and kill a king toad. Their mating migration begins in eighty days."

A king toad was the largest beast on the planet. The Monster Compendium described them as walking hills. They made the giant I'd killed look like a puppy. And I remembered Torvac mentioning that he'd seen one generate more experience than the giant had generated, even though I'd used a legendary experience potion when I killed it.

The experience Durg'un gained from our trade had cleared his clan's debt and allowed them to purchase the dwarven forge under my land. If I did the same thing with a king toad, we would be looking at more money than I could ever spend.

This was going to be an extremely profitable deal for Ririon. And I could do this without him, so I had to ask, "What's in it for me?"

Saving my life this morning had brought him goodwill, but the fact that Durg'un had waited until my life was in danger before approaching me soured those feelings.

"Ririon will use the wealth you generate to create a dwarven kingdom that recognises human life as equal to dwarven life. He will establish his kingdom's laws so that your actions were legal. His trade laws will be written in such a way that if the other dwarven kingdoms choose to go to war with you over this matter, his people will no longer be able to trade with them. It will end this war before it begins."

Durg'un spoke like this was some significant threat, but I couldn't see how this would end the war before it started, so I tried to think about it from a dwarf's perspective. The only thing I could come up with was that the kings wouldn't go to war because Ririon would stop selling them beer. That seemed a little too ridiculous, so I kept thinking. I settled on the fact that I didn't know the full extent of the potions Ririon could make. If others were as effective as his experience potion, he would be a strategic asset you wouldn't give up.

"What's in this for you?"

Durg'un gave a wistful smile. "Ririon will allow me to swear my clan to his service. He will toast me with the same drink you refuse to share. He will open his cellar to my clan's coffers like we are members of his own clan. It is something I never dreamed possible."

I took back my earlier thoughts. Maybe the dwarven kings really would back off if Ririon cut off their beer supply. Durg'un was willing to swear his allegiance to the man for it.

"How long have you been in the city?"

"Three weeks. Ririon sent me the moment he had a clear idea of what you had been doing in Blackwood and whether or not your actions were justified."

I stare at Durg'un, thinking over our shared history. "Is that a problem for you?"

Durg'un sighed and shook his head like he was disappointed in me. "Sometimes I think you understand my people better than I do. Other times, like now, I know you don't understand us at all."

"What do you mean?"

"My people search for purpose when we are children. That purpose is a single craft that we can devote our existence to. That craft is both our passion and our purpose. It consumes our every waking moment. It lives in our dreams. It is who we are. My craft is the warrior's craft. It is my passion and purpose to protect my people. When I see a dwarf in trouble, I must protect them, even if they brought that trouble upon themselves. It is who I am. There is no comprise. I respect you because we are the same in this regard."

I took a breath, trying to understand what he wanted to express. "You're saying your purpose is to protect the living, not to avenge the dead."

Durg'un nodded.

"You should consider changing that purpose to only protecting those who deserve it."

Durg'un gave a tired nod. "To do that, I would need to give my oath of loyalty to a king. There are dwarves who are worthy of such an oath, but only one with a chance of becoming a king in the near future."

Okay, maybe this wasn't entirely about the beer.

"Why did you wait for an adventurer to turn up before coming to meet me?"

Durg'un's expression soured. "You weren't supposed to know about these plans until a week before they were enacted, but our plan doesn't work if you're dead, which is why Ririon sent me. Why did you have to confess?" He was the last word, like I'd done it to intentionally annoy him.

"The system gave me a quest."

Durg'un groaned and squeezed his face with his hand. I was pretty sure he stuck out his tongue at the same time to remove the flavour of the ale, because he wiped his hands on his trousers right after.

Durg'un sighed. "Then matters are worse than we thought."

"What matters?"

"This war, if it happens, isn't about you. There were murmurs already brewing about a war to reclaim the surface before news of your actions arrived."

"There were?"

Durg'un nodded. "Our ancient enemy united our people to a single purpose, and that generational dream is now within our grasp. Do you know what happens to a people who are united by a single purpose, who then lose that purpose?"

"No."

"Neither do we. And our kings are at each other's throats because of it."

"Shouldn't they be celebrating?"

"My people are greedy by nature. We hoard resources. We horde secrets. But not if we have a purpose greater than ourselves. Under those circumstances, there is no limit to our generosity."

"That doesn't make a war to reclaim the surface make sense. Only a small fraction of your people can live up here, and most of them already do."

"A war would give us purpose. It would give us a reason to keep our greed at bay, to not call in the loans we have given to clans that cannot repay them. Loans that they used to feed themselves when they could not feed themselves. Loans that are constantly renewed so they can continue to live."

"Then don't call in the loans."

"That is not our nature."

"Then find another way."

"There is no other way. Less than half of our people are skilled enough craftsmen to earn what they need to feed themselves. Those who are must then earn enough to make up for the shortcomings of their clan members. We are kingdoms constantly on the precipice of starvation, united by a purpose that is about to come to fruition. Any life we saved until now was saved to end our ancient enemy, not because it was the right thing to do. So, calamity is coming. And our kings are trying to find a way out."

My eyes went wide as I realised what he was saying. "You're not talking about going to war with Radian. You're talking about going to war with humanity."

Durg'un nodded. "A great purpose that will hold back the greed and hunger."

I folded my arms and leaned back. I wanted to be shocked, but after my experience with his people, I wasn't. "Considering you're telling me this, Ririon must have a plan?"

Durg'un nodded. "Our treaty with your people prevents us from building upon or under your land or the land that is between our kingdoms without your permission. Regent Katella gave King Grorion permission to build what is now my clan's forge in return for being able to purchase ten of the weapons you used to kill the Village Eater each year. If King Grorion's weapon failed to live up to his claims, his claim to the forge would have been revoked, and she would have sold it back to your system."

"I didn't know that."

"I didn't either until he handed over the deed and contracts Regent Katella signed with him. But that isn't important. What is important is that this was the first time in history that our people were allowed to build under your people's land. The closest we have come is the trade settlements in the land between our kingdoms, and they are still far from our borders. Under our peoples' original treaty, my clan's forge is dwarven land. As it is our land, we have every right to connect it to our kingdom's tunnel system."

Oh, fuck!

"You're going to build a tunnel to Blackwood!"

"Only if we can come to an agreement."

"Am I allowed to agree to this?"

"I believe the phrase you taught me for this situation is that it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

Shit. Why did I teach him that saying?

"What are you planning?"

"Ririon would like to give his people purpose by connecting our forge to his kingdom through a train system. This system will be large enough to relieve the food issues his kingdom will face."

"Blackwood can't feed a kingdom."

"But the region around Blackwood could."

I felt a headache coming on, and I couldn't even get headaches anymore. "Let me get this straight, you want me to turn one of the most remote regions in Radian into a commercial farming industry large enough to feed a kingdom?"

Durg'un nodded.

"Will it stop your people from going to war with mine?"

There were a billion dwarves. We wouldn't make a dent in their wider food issue.

"No."

"Then why the hell would I agree to this?"

"Because this will force our kings to wait for another excuse to go to war with your people, and it would protect those around you from the war when it arrives."

Sometimes I couldn't help but hate dwarves.

"I need time to think," I said.

I collected our tankard from the coffee table and made my way to the keg. I handed one to Durg'un before returning to my seat. I needed a drink, and Durg'un had the unfortunate responsibility of being the bearer of bad news, so he got one too.

Durg'un's lips twitched, but he drank the ale.

For some reason, I wasn't angry. For a good few minutes, I couldn't work out why. Then I realised, I was relieved that this war wasn't about me. That this wasn't about what we had done. This was about dwarves being assholes, and us being the excuse they needed to start a genocide.

Not being angry let me think. It let me consider. It let me realise that Ririon and Durg'un were doing everything in their power to try to stop this war from happening, even though they knew they didn't have the power to stop it, only delay it. We were on the same team.

Which meant I needed to explain my actions.

"There is a saying where I come from," I said when my tankard was empty. "Don't shoot the messenger. It came about because kings and dictators kept killing anyone who delivered them bad news, even though it wasn't the messenger's fault. In the end, they stopped receiving bad news, which didn't fix the problems. All it did was make them think everything was fine right up until someone beat down their door and killed them."

Durg'un glanced at his empty tankard. "Was that an apology?"

"No. I was explaining that I didn't make you drink that out of malice. After that much bad news, I needed a drink, and dwarven hospitality forced me to give you one."

Durg'un relaxed.

"Is war inevitable?"

"I honestly don't know, but it seems likely."

"Will agreeing to this protect Blackwood?"

Durg'un nodded. "Harming anywhere that is providing our people with that much food is something my people will not stand for. If the system gave you a quest, it was likely for this reason. It will save some of your people when the war begins."

I frowned. "What would happen if all of Radian were willing to provide your people with food?"

"Then there would be no need to go to war."

"How long before you finish killing the Village Eaters?"

"Three, maybe four decades if you're lucky."

His answer forced me to do a double-take, to make sure I'd heard him correctly. The entire time he'd been talking, I thought we were talking about an immediate problem. A war that would happen this year or next year at the latest. Something that matched the timetable of the current threat, only slightly postponed.

When I finally realised that he was being serious, I groaned. "You should have led with that."

"I know it's not that much time, but Grorion's weapon is far more effective than we ever expected."

I felt like laughing, even though this wasn't a laughing matter. "Perhaps for your people it's not much time, but for humans, that is almost two generations. Two generations is enough time for us to establish Rorion's tunnel, see if it increases prosperity in the region, and when it does, because it obviously will, let the wider population come to the conclusion that we need more locations like it."

"And if it doesn't?"

"You said it yourself. We've got decades to figure out this problem. However, right now, we need to make sure your kings don't go to war pre-emptively."

"You'll accept our offer."

"I need to see this in writing, and you have to agree not to tell any other humans about this tunnel plan but me."

"Because it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"Exactly."