The First Harvest of Wheat and a Royal Summons

The incident with the Sun God priests had a profound, if quiet, effect. The Temple, thrown into theological chaos, issued a kingdom-wide decree to all its clerics: the Oakhaven region was to be considered "divinely contested ground" and was to be avoided at all costs. It was a humiliating admission of defeat, framed as a wise act of piety. In reality, they were terrified.

For Ren, life returned to its peaceful rhythm. The flow of faith energy from the adoring villagers became a steady, comforting background hum, subtly enriching his soil and enhancing his own connection to the land. His domain, the invisible border of his influence, felt more stable and secure.

His attention was now fully on the 'Sunstone' wheat. The stalks, which had grown to be taller than he was, were heavy with heads of grain. Each individual kernel glittered in the sun, catching the light like a tiny, perfectly cut gemstone. The entire field shimmered and sparkled, a breathtaking sight.

"It's ready to harvest," Ren declared one morning, a deep sense of satisfaction in his voice.

Harvesting an entire field of wheat by hand should have been a monumental, back-breaking task. With Ren's 'surprisingly sturdy' sickle, however, it was an exercise in effortless grace. The enchanted blade sliced through the thick, super-strong stalks as if they were air. In a single afternoon, the entire shimmering field was reaped and stacked into neat, glittering sheaves.

Lyra, who had offered to help, found herself mostly just watching in awe as Ren worked with an impossible, tireless efficiency.

"Now for the threshing," Ren announced, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He laid one of the sheaves on a large, flat rock. He could have used a flail, but he had a better idea.

He simply placed his hand on the head of wheat. He didn't press down. He just focused, issuing a simple, conceptual command: Separate.

With a sound like a thousand tiny bells ringing at once, the glittering kernels detached from the chaff and flowed from the wheat head into a waiting sack, perfectly clean and untouched. The leftover straw, now inert, fell to the side. He repeated the process, and in under an hour, he had several large sacks filled with 'Sunstone' grain.

[Harvest Complete: 'Sunstone' Wheat Grain]

[Quality: Superior]

[Effect: When milled into flour and baked, produces bread that is not only delicious and highly energizing, but also resistant to spoilage. Contains trace elements of light and life magic.]

[System Note: This is literally the best thing since sliced bread. Which you can now make. Go for it.]

"Bread that doesn't go stale," Lyra murmured, her practical mind immediately grasping the logistical implications. "An army could march for weeks on a single wagonload of such bread."

"I was just thinking it would be nice not to have to worry about mold," Ren said. "I need a millstone now. I wonder if Giles has one."

Before he could plan his trip to the village, a familiar figure appeared on the path. It was Ser Kaelen, but this time his expression was not one of friendly diplomacy. He looked grave.

"Ren," the knight said, forgoing his usual pleasantries. "I bring an urgent message." He wasn't carrying gifts of seeds this time. He held a single, official-looking scroll, sealed with the royal crest of the King of Eldoria himself.

"What is it, Kaelen? Is something wrong?" Ren asked, wiping his glittering hands on his trousers.

"The King requests your presence at the capital," Kaelen stated formally. "It is not a request. It is a Royal Summons."

Lyra immediately tensed, stepping in front of Ren protectively. "The King has no authority to summon him."

"Ordinarily, you would be correct," Kaelen said, his eyes filled with a weary frustration. "However, the situation has escalated. Your… altercation… with the Priests of the Sun God has had massive repercussions. Furthermore, the Queendom of Saccharo has used this incident as a pretext. Citing 'religious instability' on their border, they have moved a legion of soldiers to the edge of the Eastern territories. They claim it is a defensive measure, but it is a clear posture of aggression. They are using this as an excuse to pressure the kingdom, likely to gain access to this farm."

Ren frowned. "This is all getting very silly. It's just a farm."

"To you, it is a farm," Kaelen said, his voice pleading for understanding. "To the rest of the world, it is a source of miracles, a divine arsenal, and the greatest treasure of the age. The King does not wish to command you, Ren. He wishes to speak with you, to form an official alliance, to present a united front against foreign powers who would seek to exploit you or use you as a wedge against us. He needs the world to see that the 'God of the Green' stands with Eldoria."

Ren looked torn. The capital. A palace. A king. It was the absolute antithesis of the quiet life he wanted. But he also understood, dimly, that the 'pests' were getting bigger. They were no longer just greedy merchants or angry priests; they were entire nations. Ignoring them might not be an option anymore.

"If he goes, I go with him," Lyra stated, her voice leaving no room for argument.

"That is expected," Kaelen nodded. "The King also extends his formal pardon for your past association with the Silent Fang Guild, effective immediately."

Ren sighed heavily. He looked at his sacks of glittering wheat, at his newly harvested carrots, at his perpetually glowing tomatoes. He looked at Lyra's determined face and Kaelen's worried one.

"Will there be... a lot of people?" Ren asked, his primary concern shining through.

"You will be a guest of the king, an honored dignitary," Kaelen assured him. "You will be treated with the utmost respect."

"And will I have to wear fancy clothes?"

Kaelen hesitated. "It... would be customary, yes."

Ren groaned. This was getting worse and worse. But the thought of an entire army marching towards his farm because of some political squabble was also deeply unappealing. Maybe if he just went, talked to the king, and got it over with, everyone would leave him alone. It was a naive hope, but it was all he had.

"Alright," he said with a heavy sense of resignation. "I'll go." He then brightened up with a new idea. "But I'm bringing gifts. If I have to go to a stuffy castle, at least I can bring some decent food."

He patted one of the sacks of 'Sunstone' wheat. "How do you think the king feels about sparkly bread?"

Ser Kaelen couldn't help but let out a small, tired smile. He was about to escort a demigod who could topple nations to the royal court, and the demigod's primary concern was the baking properties of his magical grain. His report back to the Archmage was going to be an interesting one. The farmer was going to the capital. And Kaelen had a feeling the capital would never be the same again.