Grove of the Dagda

The morning air nipped at Robert's cheeks, crisp and clear in the Highlands. He stood outside the citadel crystal, watching its translucent glow cast soft light shards onto the ground.

Before him sat a table he'd dragged out, piled with Hamish's produce—fruits, vegetables, and herbs in a rainbow of colors. Each one seemed to hum, begging for Albion's magic.

Behind Robert, the settlement core pulsed with a faint hum, urging optimization and growth. For now, it granted him peace to focus on the plants.

Villagers gathered in small groups, their murmurs low as they watched him. Robert sensed their curiosity, their faces flickering with awe and hesitation, though they kept their distance.

A burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard stepped forward, his weathered face creased. "So, you really can do all that with magic, then?" he asked, his voice gruff but his eyes softening, hinting at hope.

Robert glanced up from a pile of carrots he was imbuing. "Yeah," he said, smiling slightly. "I reckon I've got a decent handle on it. But it's not just magic. It's Albion's essence, helping us out."

A matronly woman, flour dusting her apron, edged closer, her hands clasped tightly. "Those apples you grew before… They were something else. Think you can do the same with our crops? Make 'em grow proper in this rocky soil?"

Robert lifted an enchanted carrot, its orange hue glowing in the morning light. "That's the plan," he told her. "With Albion's vitality woven in, these plants get a second chance. They can be more than they ever were."

Murmurs rose from the crowd, a few chuckling as Robert fumbled a stubborn leek, nearly dropping it.

"Not so graceful, are you?" the bearded man teased, his grin sparking laughter.

Robert rolled his eyes, grinning back. "Magic doesn't come with an instruction manual, you know."

The matronly woman patted Robert's arm, her touch gentle and warm. "S'alright, lad. Even mages have their struggles."

Laughter flowed through the onlookers, and Robert felt a fleeting sense of normalcy, not the oddity who communed with crystals and ancient energies.

With a final flick of magic, he infused the leek, watching it gleam softly. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he turned to the settlement crystal.

"Alright," he said, pitching his voice for the villagers to hear. "Let's see what our overachieving friend has to say about this."

The crystal brightened, chiming eagerly. "Input recognized. Seeds and enchanted produce registered. Optimizing resources for immediate application to legendary production site."

"Not so fast," Robert muttered, folding his arms. "Did you soak up the crystals Hamish brought back from that dungeon mining area?"

The crystal pulsed, its light steady. "Affirmative. Acquired crystals have been successfully integrated into the resource pool. Power levels are sufficient to commence large-scale agricultural development."

"Good," Robert said. "Then we're ready. Let's pick out a spot for the food production area."

Its glow intensified. "Activating construction protocol for Legendary Food Production Area. Confirm initiation?"

"Yes, initiate," Robert replied, wincing at the crystal's clinical tone.

Villagers edged closer, their eyes wide with excitement. The crystal emitted melodic chimes, sending glowing tendrils into the ground.

Rich, dark soil churned, as if stirred by invisible hands. Rows of tilled earth unfurled, a sweet scent—wild honey and blossoming flowers—teasing the air.

"Construction nearing completion," the crystal droned. "Additional resources identified for enhancement of irrigation systems. Allocate mana reserves?"

Robert sighed. "Of course you need more," he muttered.

The matronly woman smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Always does, doesn't it?" Robert chuckled, struck by her unwitting accuracy.

Rolling up his sleeves, he called, "Alright, folks. Stand back a bit."

Gathering water magic, Robert let a shimmering stream flow toward the crystal, feeding its appetite. Its light flared, a satisfied hum vibrating through the air.

"Mana contribution accepted," the crystal chimed. "Enhancements underway. Further input will optimize results."

"Of course it will," Robert muttered, gritting his teeth as he poured more mana into the core.

A few villagers watched, their faces hushed with awe. A young boy, no older than ten, craned his neck, whispering to his mother, his eyes bright, "Look, it's glowing brighter!"

Robert's strength wavered, legs trembling. The bearded man stepped up, his brow creased with concern. "Are you alright there, lad?"

"Yeah," Robert managed, waving him off. "Just… need a moment."

The flour-dusted woman placed a gentle hand on Robert's shoulder, her smile warm. "You're doing us all a great service, Robert. We appreciate it."

Her kindness steadied him. "Thank you," he said softly, squaring his shoulders.

"Now," he announced, turning to the crystal, "let's see what this legendary grove looks like once it's finished."

Moments later, villagers gasped as the ground shifted, revealing a breathtaking orchard along the dig site's eastern edge.

Soil shimmered like liquid gold under the morning sun. Towering trees, their trunks smooth and pale, rose in perfect rows, leaves gleaming emerald green, edged with silver glistening in the breeze.

A sweet fragrance pervaded the air. Branches bowed with apples, pears, and plums—each fruit glowing with richness no ordinary orchard could claim.

Strawberry and berry bushes flourished between trees, their oversized fruits shimmering with dew—strawberries the size of fists, blueberries, and raspberries like polished gemstones.

At the grove's heart, a white stone path led to a majestic tree, taller and grander, its trunk coiling in spirals, branches adorned with Albion apples and golden fruits lit from within.

Each leaf and bud pulsed with magic. Villagers, hardened by Highland life, stood slack-jawed, their hands trembling as they reached toward the trees.

"This…" the bearded man whispered, his voice thick, eyes glistening with awe. "This changes everything."

Despite his fatigue, pride warmed Robert. Turning to gauge reactions, he noticed one figure apart, arms folded tightly.

Langston stood there, his face pinched with a scowl. "Unnatural monstrosity," he muttered, loud enough for Robert to hear. "False hopes. This fruit could poison a planet if it got loose…" Robert ignored him, unwilling to spark conflict amid the villagers' joy.

Focusing on those envisioning a brighter future, Robert saw their faces light with hope. The orchard was a marvel—a life-giving food source. They'd need to witness Albion's blessing fully unfold.

Among murmurs of astonishment and Langston's grim dissent, Robert stood at the threshold of Albion's splendor, wondering what future they were crafting.