The Seeds of Envy

The 'Overcharged King's Melon' had lasting effects. Ser Kaelen returned to the capital feeling not just rested, but fundamentally content. He found himself less troubled by minor irritations and more focused on the well-being of the kingdom. The Archmage noted his top knight now had a "disturbingly serene" disposition, but his reports were more insightful than ever.

Lyra found the melon had soothed the jagged edges of her past. The hyper-vigilance remained, but the underlying bitterness was gone, replaced by a fierce, protective loyalty that was purer and more focused. She was no longer just Ren's guard; she was his devoted friend.

Ren, for his part, was just happy he'd grown a really, really big melon. He generously shared the remaining wedges with the villagers of Oakhaven, who experienced a collective week of unprecedented joy, productivity, and general good humor. Old Man Hemlock was even seen smiling, a sight so rare it caused two villagers to faint from shock.

The farm itself was becoming a sight to behold. It was no longer a simple plot but a vibrant tapestry of otherworldly agriculture. The 'Sun's Fury' tomatoes glowed warmly, the 'Blue Leaf' carrots waved their indigo foliage, and the 'Sunstone' wheat Ren had recently planted was sprouting into stalks that glittered in the sun as if dusted with gold.

It was this very sight that greeted the first wave of unwanted attention.

They were not soldiers or mercenaries. They were a trio of men dressed in the fine, but slightly ostentatious, robes of the Mercantile Guild. They were led by a portly man with a neatly trimmed beard and shrewd, calculating eyes named Master Valerius. He had paid a handsome sum to Silas the informant for the location of the "glowing fruit farm."

They arrived not with weapons, but with contracts and coin purses, believing that anything in the world could be bought.

"Greetings, my good farmer!" Valerius called out as he approached the farm, his two assistants flanking him. His eyes greedily scanned the glittering wheat and glowing tomatoes, his mind already calculating profit margins that made his head spin.

Ren was trellising a new vine of 'Moonpetal' beans. He looked up and gave a friendly wave. "Hello there! Can I help you?"

Lyra materialized from the side of the shack, her hand resting on the hilt of a dagger, her emerald eyes cold and hard. "State your business," she said, her voice flat.

Valerius gave Lyra a dismissive glance—in his world, guards were just part of the overhead—and focused on Ren, whom he correctly identified as the naive principal.

"Master Ren," he began, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "I am Master Valerius of the Grand Mercantile Guild. I have come with a proposition that will make you a very, very wealthy man. We wish to establish an exclusive trade agreement for your… unique produce."

He snapped his fingers, and one of his assistants produced a thick, rolled-up parchment tied with a golden ribbon. "We are prepared to offer you ten thousand gold sovereigns per year for the exclusive rights to everything you grow."

Ten thousand gold sovereigns was a staggering sum, enough to buy a noble title and a large estate. It was an offer designed to overwhelm a simple farmer.

Ren just blinked. "Ten thousand gold? What would I even do with all that money?" He looked around his farm. "I have everything I need right here."

Valerius chuckled, as if at a child's joke. "My dear boy, with that kind of money, you wouldn't have to do this dirty work yourself! You could hire hundreds of laborers! You could buy a palace! You could have servants to attend to your every whim!"

"But I like the 'dirty work'," Ren said, confused. "It's the whole point. And I don't want servants. Lyra already helps me fix the roof. Why would I need anyone else?"

Valerius's smile tightened. This wasn't going as planned. "Perhaps you misunderstand the value of what you have. This fruit," he said, pointing a plump finger at a 'Sun's Fury' tomato, "could be sold for a hundred gold apiece in the capital! A hundred! We are offering you a partnership in a venture that could make us the wealthiest men in the kingdom!"

"A hundred gold for one tomato?" Ren looked horrified. "That's ridiculous! Who could afford that? I give them to the villagers for free."

The merchant's jaw dropped. "You… you give them away?" he stammered, aghast. The thought of such profits being simply given away was physically painful to him. "That is an abominable waste of economic potential!"

"It's not a waste if it makes people happy," Ren said simply. "I'm sorry, Master Valerius, but I'm not interested in your offer. My farm is not for sale."

The greed in Valerius's eyes curdled into a cold, hard resentment. He had seen commoners before who didn't understand their own worth, and they always learned through harder lessons.

"I see," he said, his voice losing its friendly tone. "You are making a grave mistake, boy. The world is not as kind as this little village. There are others who will not be so… polite… in their requests." It was a veiled threat.

Lyra took a single, deliberate step forward. "And they will be dealt with," she said, her voice a low promise of violence. The temperature around her seemed to drop several degrees.

Valerius and his assistants took an involuntary step back. He shot a venomous glare at Ren. "You will regret this. The Guild does not forget those who spurn its generosity."

He turned on his heel and stormed off, his assistants scrambling to follow him.

Ren just sighed. "Why is everyone so complicated?" He went back to tending his beans.

Lyra watched the merchants retreat, her eyes narrowed. "That man will cause trouble, Ren. He will not use force himself, but he will use his money and influence to send others who will. Thieves, saboteurs, rival guilds."

"More pests, then," Ren said with a shrug.

"Yes," Lyra agreed. "More pests."

That night, Valerius, fuming in his lavish tent a few miles from the village, put the second phase of his plan into action. If he couldn't have the fruit, he would ruin the source and study the remains. He dispatched a man he had hired for just such a contingency—a disgraced alchemist known only as "The Blight."

The Blight was a gaunt, shadowy figure who specialized in creating alchemical poisons and plagues that could destroy farmland overnight, turning fertile soil into a barren, toxic wasteland. He crept towards Ren's farm under the cover of darkness, carrying a sealed lead vial. Inside was his greatest creation: a concentration of 'Grey Rot,' a magical plague that could kill any plant it touched and render the soil sterile for a century.

He reached the edge of the glowing farm, the light from the tomatoes casting long, dancing shadows. He could feel the vibrant life energy in the air; it felt like an oppressive, cloying force to one who dealt in decay and death.

"So much life," the Blight whispered, a cruel smile twisting his thin lips. "It will make the decay all the sweeter."

He uncorked the vial. A thin, grey, oily smoke drifted out, coalescing into a small, sinister cloud. It slithered through the air, low to the ground, moving towards the nearest 'Sun's Fury' tomato plant, drawn to its potent life force.

Lyra, ever watchful, sensed the intrusion immediately. It wasn't a physical presence, but a wave of negative, anti-life energy that felt like ice water on her soul. She was about to intercept when she saw something that made her pause.

The 'Grey Rot' cloud touched the base of the tomato plant.

The Blight watched, expecting the plant to instantly wither, blacken, and crumble to dust.

Instead, the glowing tomato plant began to pulse, its crimson light intensifying. The vibrant life energy that radiated from it, and from the very soil of the farm, surged towards the intrusive plague. It wasn't a battle. It was an extermination.

The 'Grey Rot,' a plague that could ruin an entire barony, was simply… consumed. The pure, overwhelming life energy of Ren's farm annihilated the necrotic magic, breaking it down and absorbing the base components as raw nutrients. The tomato plant, after its meal, glowed even more brightly than before, a single new tomato budding on its vine as if to celebrate the snack.

From his hiding spot, the Blight stared in absolute horror. His ultimate creation, his masterpiece of decay, had just been eaten. And the plant looked healthier for it.

Before he could even process this impossibility, the soil beneath his feet began to shift. The latent life energy in the ground, now actively hostile to his necrotic presence, was asserting itself. Roots from the nearby trees, energized by Ren's aura, shot through the earth like living spears, erupting from the ground around him, ensnaring his arms and legs, and trapping him in an inescapable wooden cage.

The Blight let out a choked scream of terror.

Ren, woken by the scream, poked his head out of the shack. "Lyra? Is that another lost traveler?"

Lyra stepped out of the shadows, looking at the root-cage and the whimpering alchemist within.

"Yes, Ren," she said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. "Another pest. It seems the farm is learning to weed itself."