A New Kind of Follower

The formal alliance was cause for celebration in the capital. That evening, a grander, more official feast was held. This time, Chef Antoine, now Ren's most devoted disciple, collaborated with the farmer. The result was a fusion of royal culinary technique and divinely potent ingredients. Dishes like 'Sunstone' Wheat Gnocchi in a 'Sun's Fury' Tomato Reduction and 'Blue-Leaf' Carrot Purée with Roasted Fowl became instant legends.

Ren, for his part, endured the endless toasts and fawning nobles with good-natured patience, though he found the whole affair exhausting. His favorite part of the evening was when he slipped away to the palace gardens with Lyra and Kaelen to look at the royal family's prized rose bushes.

"They're nice," Ren commented, gently touching a petal, "but the soil is a bit nitrogen-deficient."

The next day, Ren's life in the capital took another unexpected turn. While Ser Kaelen and the Royal Council were busy drafting treaties and planning defensive strategies based on the new alliance, Ren was given a tour of the Mage's Spire by a very excited Archmage Theronius Vance.

The Archmage, a being of immense intellect and arcane power, behaved less like a formidable leader and more like a giddy schoolboy on a field trip with his favorite scientist. He showed Ren the enchanted soils in their biodomes, the alchemical labs, and the scrying pools.

Ren was polite but largely unimpressed. The 'enchanted soil' felt inert and artificial to him compared to his living, breathing land. The alchemical potions were complex, but a single one of his tomatoes had more vitality than a whole shelf of them.

It was in the Hall of Artifacts that things became interesting. The chamber was filled with powerful magical items auras of power. As Ren walked past a glass case containing a withered, dead-looking wooden staff, the staff began to tremble.

"Curious," the Archmage said, peering at the artifact. "That is the 'Staff of the Verdant Heart,' an ancient druidic relic. It has been dormant for five centuries, its life force completely depleted."

As Ren drew closer, the staff's trembling intensified. A faint, green light began to pulse from the dead wood. A single, perfect green leaf sprouted from its tip. The staff was desperately reaching out, drawn to the overwhelming life energy that emanated from Ren as if it were a dying plant seeking the sun.

Ren felt a flicker of pity for the old, forgotten artifact. "It feels... thirsty," he said. He reached out and placed his hand on the glass case. He didn't consciously channel his power; he simply allowed a small trickle of his ambient aura to flow towards the staff.

The effect was instantaneous. The staff erupted with brilliant green light. The dead wood instantly transformed into smooth, living timber. A profusion of leaves, vines, and glowing flowers burst forth from it, filling the entire display case with a miniature, vibrant ecosystem. The Staff of the Verdant Heart was not just restored; it was more powerful than it had ever been in its recorded history.

Archmage Theronius stared, his jaw so slack it threatened to dislocate. He had just witnessed a priceless, dormant artifact be supercharged back to life with a casual touch.

"Ren..." he breathed, his voice filled with a new, even deeper level of awe. "Your affinity for life... it is not just cultivation. It is conceptual. Absolute."

This event solidified Ren's status within the Mage's Spire. He was no longer just a strategic asset; he was a figure of academic and mystical reverence. Mages, alchemists, and druids who had spent their lives studying the intricate laws of nature now followed him around the palace, hoping for a stray comment or an accidental miracle. They didn't see a god to be worshipped, but a living embodiment of their craft, the ultimate source of knowledge. Ren had, without trying, acquired an entire fan club of the most powerful magic-users in the kingdom.

This new following came in handy sooner than expected. Ambassador Cinnia, though she had left the court, had not left the capital. Her Queen, enraged by Ren's refusal, had given her new orders: if he could not be tempted, he would be taken.

Cinnia hired a team of elite infiltrators from a shadowy organization known as the 'Veiled Hand.' They were not warriors, but specialists in kidnapping, experts at using stealth, sleeping poisons, and magical translocation to extract high-value targets from even the most secure locations.

Their target was Ren's chambers in the palace that very night.

The Veiled Hand agents were ghosts. They bypassed the Royal Guards using cloaking spells, neutralized the magical wards with counter-charms, and slipped through the palace corridors without making a sound. They arrived at the door to Ren's suite, confident in their success.

As their leader, a man cloaked in shadow, reached for the lock, he felt a sudden, sharp pressure on his neck.

"I would not do that if I were you," a low, cold voice whispered in his ear.

Lyra materialized behind him, the point of her dagger pricking his skin. The other agents spun around, only to find themselves facing a new, unexpected line of defense.

Leaning against the corridor walls, looking utterly relaxed, were a half-dozen of the kingdom's most senior mages, including a formidable Arch-Druid and the stern-faced Master of Enchantments. They hadn't been assigned as guards. They had simply been loitering in the hallway, hoping to ask Ren about advanced soil aeration techniques in the morning.

"The Veiled Hand," the Master of Enchantments said, his eyes glowing with power. "So clumsy. Your cloaking spells are... rudimentary, at best. We detected you the moment you entered the palace grounds."

The Arch-Druid smiled, a distinctly unfriendly expression. "You seek to harm the Life-Giver. A grave error." He tapped the floor with his gnarled wooden staff—a staff that now had a single, incredibly vibrant green leaf at its tip.

The stone floor of the corridor erupted. Thick, powerful roots shot up, ensnaring the Veiled Hand agents, binding them even more effectively than the roots on Ren's farm. Their cloaking spells shattered, their poisons clattered to the floor, and their translocation circles fizzled into nothing.

The entire team of elite kidnappers was neutralized in under ten seconds, defeated by a tag-team of a hyper-aware assassin and a group of opportunistic, over-protective academic stalkers.

The door to the suite opened, and Ren poked his head out, wearing a pair of simple nightclothes. "Is everything okay out here? I heard a bit of a commotion."

He saw the root-bound agents, Lyra holding a knife to their leader's throat, and a delegation of the most powerful mages in the country looking immensely pleased with themselves.

Ren just sighed, a deep, weary sigh. "More pests?"

The Arch-Druid beamed at him. "Do not worry yourself, Master Ren. We were simply performing a bit of... academic pest control. Please, get your rest. We have many questions about optimal crop humidity for you in the morning."

Ren closed the door, shaking his head. His quiet life was now so complicated that he had rival kingdoms, fanatical priests, and now two distinct sets of followers—worshipping villagers and academic mages—all competing for his attention.

He just wanted to get back to his farm. But first, it seemed, he had to survive being the most popular person in the entire kingdom.