Reincarnated As a Farmer But Overpowered

The journey back to the capital was swift for Ser Kaelen. The vitality from the porridge and the single tomato he carried—wrapped carefully in silk inside his satchel like a holy relic—seemed to flow into his steed as well, lending it tireless strength. He rode for a day and a night without stopping, arriving at the Mage's Spire as the sun set on the second day.

He bypassed the usual channels, his status as a Knight-Errant on an urgent mission granting him immediate access to the highest levels. He found Archmage Theronius Vance in his private observatory, staring into the swirling star-stuff of the Grand Orrery.

"Report, Ser Kaelen," Theronius said without turning, his ancient eyes fixed on the steady golden pulse that represented Oakhaven. "Did you find the source of the anomaly?"

"I did, Lord Archmage," Kaelen said, his voice resonating with utter seriousness. He placed his helmet on a nearby table. "The reports are true. All of them."

Theronius finally turned, raising a silver eyebrow. "The 'deliciousness'?"

"The 'deliciousness' is merely a symptom of the reality, my lord," Kaelen stated. He proceeded to give a full, detailed account of his experience, leaving nothing out. He described the glowing fields, the impossibly potent fruit, the tranquil farmer, the formidable Shadowcat acting as a loyal guard, the story of the man who broke his hand punching a tomato, and, most importantly, the breakfast porridge that had felt like a healing potion.

He concluded his report by placing the single 'Sun's Fury' tomato he had carried all the way from the farm onto the Archmage's polished obsidian desk.

The effect on the room was immediate. The ambient magical artifacts in the chamber hummed in response to the tomato's potent life energy. The Archmage's own robes, woven with mana-sensitive threads, began to shimmer with a soft light.

Theronius leaned forward, his scholarly curiosity overriding his stoicism. He peered at the fruit, his eyes glowing with arcane light as he cast a series of diagnostic spells. His eyebrows shot up higher and higher with each successive spell.

"Incredible," he breathed. "The life energy is not just potent; it is perfectly structured. Stable. Pure. Not a trace of chaotic or wild magic. It is… conceptually perfect. The work of a master creator." He looked up at Kaelen. "And this was grown by a boy in a straw hat?"

"A boy who politely declined the protection of the Crown because he felt a garrison would be too noisy," Kaelen confirmed. "A boy who believes the greatest threat to his existence is a leaky roof."

The Archmage sat back in his high-backed chair, steepling his long fingers. He was faced with a dilemma of immense proportions. The farmer, Ren, was a strategic asset beyond price. A single tomato could revitalize a wounded soldier. A handful could turn the tide of a battle. A steady supply could eradicate famine and disease within the kingdom. The temptation to simply send a legion and take the farm was immense. It was the logical, pragmatic move for the good of the realm.

But Kaelen's report painted a chilling counter-narrative. The farmer was not weak. His power was simply passive. The casual, thoughtless way he dealt with threats—the bear, the mercenaries, Yorick's fist—spoke of a power so absolute it didn't even register such things as threats.

"He said that if bigger pests came, he would use a 'stronger pesticide'," Kaelen reiterated, his voice grim. "My lord, I do not believe that was a metaphor. I believe he was stating his capabilities as he understands them. To him, an army would not be a war. It would be an infestation."

Theronius shuddered at the thought. The image was disturbingly vivid. An entire legion of the King's finest soldiers, reduced to dust by a farmer annoyed that they were trampling his carrots.

"So, we cannot force him," the Archmage concluded. "And he has rejected our offer of alliance."

"He has no interest in politics or power," Kaelen agreed. "His only desire is to farm in peace. His guard, the Shadowcat, seems determined to help him achieve that. And now, he has gifted the entire village of Oakhaven with his bounty. He has, without trying, created a small, fiercely loyal buffer state whose citizens are being physically enhanced by his produce."

The Archmage let out a long, weary sigh. The situation was more complex than he had imagined. "We are left with only one option, then. The one you recommended. Observation and diplomacy. We will treat him not as a subject, but as a neighboring power. A very eccentric, very powerful neighboring power who happens to be a single person."

He picked up the tomato from his desk, holding it in his ancient, wrinkled hand. "We must also control the information. The bounty on Lyra will draw unwanted attention. And news of this fruit, if it leaks, will bring the jackals from every corner of the continent."

"What is your command, Lord Archmage?" Kaelen asked.

"First," Theronius said, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, almost boyish scientific curiosity, "we must analyze this sample. I want every alchemist, every botanist, every artificer in the Spire to study this. Document its properties. And for heaven's sake, take a cutting! See if it can be grown in our own enchanted soils."

He handed the tomato to a waiting adept, who took it with trembling hands as if it were the Crown Jewels.

"Second," the Archmage continued, "quietly contact the Silent Fang Guild. Inform them that the bounty on Lyra is now an internal matter for the Crown. We will pay them the five hundred gold for their troubles and their silence. Inform them that any of their members found operating near Oakhaven will be considered enemies of the state."

"And third," he said, turning back to Ser Kaelen. "You have established a rapport with the farmer. You will be our official liaison. Your new duty, Ser Kaelen, is to befriend Ren. Gain his trust. Offer him gifts—tools, rare seeds from the royal greenhouses, anything a farmer might want. Ensure he remains favorably disposed towards the Kingdom of Eldoria. Your mission is no longer investigation; it is friendship."

Ser Kaelen bowed deeply. "I understand, my lord."

"Go now. Rest. Then prepare your first diplomatic offering," Theronius commanded. He watched the knight depart, then turned back to his Orrery.

He knew that despite his best efforts, the secret of Oakhaven would not keep forever. The world was coming for the farmer. The only question was whether the Kingdom of Eldoria would be standing beside him as a friend, or cowering behind its walls when the "pesticides" came out. He fervently hoped for the former.