Infinite Farmer: A Plants vs Dungeon

“You didn’t tell me it would be this boring.”

I didn’t know.

The boy of the first vision was a few years older now, and had given up the open-air setting of the first memory for a large, grand stone building. He was wearing better clothes, having moved from rough-spun fabric to something not all that dissimilar from the outfits Tulland had seen clerics wear in their day-to-day work.

“I thought you knew everything,” the boy said.

I never claimed that. When I gave you this class, it could have been anything. I didn’t predict… that.

The System’s perception turned towards the outside of the building, where a growing line of people was just becoming illuminated by the rising sun. They were all excited, impatient, or some mix of both feelings.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I don’t get why they treat it like it is.” The boy plopped down on a stone pew. “I’ll be stuck here all day helping them. And for what? To give them some word of advice on their class that they could have figured out themselves?”

You underestimate your own value. The advice you are giving them is priceless. Without you, they have no option but to root around the dark, hoping to find a pearl. Your class shines a light on the proper way forward.

“Proper.” The boy scoffed. “You know I’m guessing.”

The boy looked out the window and sighed.

“Okay, fine. I’m valuable. But even with as fast as I’m gaining levels, I’m not going to be able to keep this up indefinitely. Look at them. There’s twice as many today as yesterday. I’ve heard people are traveling in from other towns. I have to sleep and eat sometimes, System. There’s only so many people I can help.” The boy hugged his own ribs and rocked back and forth. “It’s claustrophobic. I can’t live my whole life like this.”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

And you don’t have to.

“No?”

No. Your chaotic class is something new and unique, but it won’t be forever. Chaotic classes open doors. They provide opportunities for imitators. Once people start to see your success, they will start to dream of the same for themselves by following the same roles.

“And they’ll get the same class?”

No. Never that. They’ll get similar things. Classes that rhyme with yours. But as the ancestor of those classes, yours will always be the stronger.

“For as long as I’m here, anyway.”

Yes.

The scene faded, and the next thing Tulland knew was a much larger, warmer building, one made of stone but better appointed in all ways. Now the boy was older, and through the System’s perspective, he was also much, much stronger.

No, I don’t think you should.

“And why not?” The boy, a young man now, was talking to the System out loud in front of a table full of people dressed just like him. “If we are willing to guide people’s classes once they have them, and that’s good for them, I see no reason we wouldn’t start earlier.”

There is a limit to how much control one can exert before one begins to stifle those they intend to help. The limitations on my capabilities might have frustrated me at times, but I never assumed they were there for no reason at all.

“He says it’s a bad idea. That it’s too much control,” the young man said out loud.

“Well, he would. But how would he know?” One of the younger bishops looked up from his notes to speak. “He’s never done it.”

I haven’t, but…

“We’ve seen that he’s been reluctant to give up power in a number of situations. To pass it over to us, even where we can help more,” another bishop said with the fervor of a zealot.

There are reasons for that, but I can’t…

“And he’s been dragging you along with it. With an old way. There’s a new way. He hasn’t wanted to really give it the chance it deserves yet.” One of the older men in the room was talking now. “How long are we going to continue accepting his counsel when it is always to move slower and to do less than we could?”

For once, Tulland could feel something he was usually only able to experience from the outside. The System was, he felt, without words. It wasn’t much like the human feeling of being embarrassed or on the spot. His cheeks didn’t feel like they were burning red, mostly because at that moment, he didn’t have them to feel that way in the first place. But it was still that, or something in the family of the feeling. Tulland-as-the-System was on the spot, unable to express what he wanted to express fast enough.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The boy-turned-young-man came to his rescue.

“Be that as it may, the System has lived for centuries, and the great chance for progress you are speaking of is something that we only have because he was willing to take a very large chance on me.” The young man’s face morphed to a gentle smile at the memory. “When nobody else would.”

“You are the only person who can make changes that large, you know,” the older man said, just as gently. “Who can change the way we interact with the System as a people.”

“And that’s why I’m careful.” the boy said. “Now, with that on hold, what else did we gather to talk about today? I believe someone mentioned the matter of the young man who I saw yesterday, whose class…”

The vision stopped there, slowly dissolving and leaving Tulland once again in the tavern, still alone with the loudly snoring adventurer.

Odd.

What is?

You haven’t shown me a single memory where you thought of the young man as anything but a positive force, or where he treated you as anything but a friend.

There was a moment of surprise in the System’s next few seconds of silence.

And? I don’t follow.

It doesn’t make sense. This was an ally. I thought this was an explanation for how you came to be banished. Alone on the edges of things. Powerless. That kind of thing. I can’t see that boy or young man betraying you.

No? Good. It makes me feel just a bit less foolish then. I didn’t see it either.

So show me the rest. Let me understand.

Not today. There was an air of finality to the System’s refusal, something that let Tulland know more trying wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe not ever. The sharing makes me tired in a way I can’t explain.

Tulland decided not to argue, and stood from his seat. He let the sleeping man continue his nap as he walked past.

Do you think he’s really doomed? By the drink?

By the drink, or rather the attitude that condemned him to give himself up to it.

But why? He’d get further without the distraction, sure. But it’s not as if the drink will really hurt him.

It’s a hard place, Tulland. Harder than you’ve seen, so far. There’s pain here in a way you’ve only had a taste of. That man is no longer trying to win. His spirit is broken. At this point, he’s only trying to hide.

—

“Ley. Do you have time? Before your next dungeon?”

“A bit. About a day.” Ley stretched out in the sun of Tulland’s yard. “I was planning on using it to be lazy. You look suspiciously like you don’t want to let me do that.”

Tulland pulled up a large chunk of wood next to Ley and sat on it. Like most things in their village, the average object used as a chair here was a scavenged thing, something that mostly met the requirements without being pretty or delicate.

“I won’t take too much of your time. I mostly wanted to talk to you about my farm,” Tulland said. “Do you have a good idea of how it works? I know you’ve been watching. I wasn’t sure how much you picked up.”

“Everything but the details, I think. Enough to think I understand without really understanding.” Ley shifted the way he was laying a bit, pushing his back up the stone he had rested his head on until it was propping him into a sitting position. “Are you looking for advice on it?”

“I think so.” Tulland nodded. “As much as I can get, anyway. I’ve pushed it about as far as I can, by myself.”

“Alright. I owe you at least that much. But to do it, I really am going to need those details. Everything you can give me.”

Tulland decided that would be okay. It wasn’t completely without risk, but every time he had assumed Ley would finally run and leave him to die, the Spymaster had come through. That coupled with their very real agreement to keep each other safe was as much security as he was going to get out of any relationship outside of Necia.

Tulland started launching into an explanation, only to have Ley stop him in the first few words.

“Not like that. Wastes time.” Ley’s eyes went fuzzy for a few moments as he messed with a system screen Tulland couldn’t see. “Try that. It’s the opposite of what I did before.”

“And this is?” Tulland asked.

“If you agree to it, I’ll be able to share one of my information sharing powers with you. Trust me that it’s going to take much, much less time,” Ley explained.

Given that it didn’t seem that much different than just telling Ley about everything, Tulland sent his mental assent to The Infinite, and was immediately faced with another window.

Two minutes was not a lot of time. Tulland got thinking. First he thought about recent times, the current state of his farm and the plants he had growing there. He thought about the splicer, how it worked, and how he thought it might help him in the future. He thought about the plants he currently used for combat and the ones that he had previously used for pitchfork components.

With time left after that, he started thinking back through his past. He thought about how his class was before The Infinite restructured it, back in the wrap-himself-with-vines days. He thought about how hard the average level was for him to get then as compared to now, how strong he was then compared to now. He thought about his fight with the Forest Duke and the rogue, trying to get every detail of it he could, and how his fighting style evolved over time.

About the time he finished that, the window winked closed, replaced by another one.