One Moo'r Plow

The levels were coming nicely, I thought with a smile. It helped that everything was made easier by a massive degree thanks to my strength, yes. But in the eyes of the system, I was performing superhuman amounts of tasks and it saw fit to reward me as such.

That raised several questions. Were humans the baseline for experience and level gain in this world? If so, they would give non-humans an advantage. In fact, by all rights, that would make near-immortal races like elves and dragons insanely powerful. I stopped cold in my tracks when Garek’s memories informed me that, yes, they were.

What else had I expected from races that could compile centuries of experience with a system that rewarded constant effort? For them to idly fuck about in their lairs and waste time doing nothing? From what little I could glean out of Garek’s memories, civilization continued simply because elves and dragons were so powerful they effectively kept each other in check. No one questioned it, minded their own business and hoped neither side took interest in them.

No part of me blamed them.

What was my concern, however, was acquiring Farmer levels in a fast, consistent manner.

Through sheer brilliance, I had deduced that work around the farm fed experience into the system, which would in turn translate into more precious Levels. Truly, my intellect staggered even titans.

What did surprise me was the patch of greenery that had sprouted already. The seeds I had planted upon my arrival had already begun to sprout. What seeds those were, I had never questioned, but a crop was a crop. If, by some chance, the very act of plants growing could be made to render me precious growth towards my next levels, then this world would truly be glorious.

What was not glorious was Gol’s general laziness. The giant badger-bear thing had been aptly named for his gluttony, and demonstrated that trait at every opportunity. And yes, I was aware my naming sense was flawless before the eyes of gods and men.

Even now, the massive beast lazed around the field’s edge, sat on its hind legs. It drearily gazed at my hard labour, a yawn it’s only comment as I pulled the plough past.

I had learned the Reckless Charge’s claim of charging in a ‘perfectly straight line’ had vastly oversold itself. After yesterday’s fun, the field was gashed crookedly, and I refused to have it be anything less than perfectly straight.

Would a crop still grow within? Probably.

Would it pain my soul every time I was forced to gaze upon it? Definitely.

As such, most of the morning was spent in rectification of my errors, of which there were legion.

I pushed through noon and broke up the remnants of the field before I allowed myself to stop for lunch. Gol promptly regained all energy and briskly followed as I left the field and set off back towards the house. There did exist a stream not far from where I had built the farmhouse, but it was choked with weeds, its flow barely a trickle. Still, it did the job, and with some vigorous scrubbing, my hands were marginally clean. Only for me to turn and Find Gol taking a piss into the water upstream. With a holler, I charged at the lout and sent him scampering away. A few sniffs of my hands told me that I had avoided it entirely, but the act still rankled me.

If the beast was going to stay here, it would have to learn manners. Its choice in that matter was entirely null.

Gol grumbled as I shook my fist in his -or her, I couldn’t tell- general direction, but waddled back over all the same as i carried meat out of the cellar. I kept a very close eye on the beast, and checked to make sure the stone slab was firmly in place before I left the cellar.

Didn’t trust it further than I could throw it, as far as my food was involved.

Gol still had the gall to whine about how small it’s portion was when I tossed it an entire strand of meat. Enough to feed me for a day and it asked for more. It sat and stuffed it’s face as I slowly enjoyed my own substance. Growls and pouts did little to convince me to relinquish possession of my own meal once it’s own was scarfed down.

I slapped away a paw as it reached for a chunk of bread I had left unattended, and matched its stink-eye with my own.

So caught up in my food feud was I, that I failed to notice the visitor until she shouted at me.

“AHOY!” The yell startled me, and it required a large twist of my body to reveal its origin. There stood a girl on the road not far from my house, one hand waved overhead as she attempted to catch my attention.

Slim, tall and with green skin, she gestured for my attention, and I waved back. I took note of her features as she walked over, a covered dish in one hand. Fangs slightly protruded from her bottom lip and her eyes were larger than humans, marking her to be at least half-orc. The other half I puzzled out to possibly be elf, with long, pointed ears and silvery hair.

“Greetins, Stranger.” She happily spoke once close. “You must be the new fellah that moved in here after old Herrikson finally moved out.”

“I am indeed,” I returned, wiping my hands and extending it to shake hers. Her hand was tiny next to my own, yet her grip was surprisingly strong. “Garek is my name, and yours?”

“Ishila Flintfang.” She informed me with a grin. “Ma and Pa didn’t want to take each other’s name on account of it being a human tradition, so they let my chose my own.”

I nodded along, polite as I could be. She focused on Gol, who had slipped away most of my bread while courtesy had pulled my attention to the lass. “And this here big fellow is?”

“Gol the Glutton.” I was happy to introduce the lout for what he was. “An empty stomach disguised as a sentient creature.”

That got her smile to stretch even wider.

“Never thought I’d see a tamed Arkaresh, but here we are.” She nodded. “Says a lot about you, then. They only ever submit to someone stronger than them.”

“This thing has submitted to me?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps I should check my vision then, because I have not seen as much.”

“And what brings you here?” I took the opportunity to pose my own query.

“Why, you, of course.” She happily informed me. “Came here to see the new neighbor, offer a gift from the family as hospitality.”

That was pie that I smelled beneath the cloth she carried. My very absolute best to offer my politeness in a measured way only barely succeeded as she unveiled the glorious concoction and presented it to me.

“If I'd know you were a minotaur I’d have maybe gotten a larger portion.” She replied, only to laugh as I waved off her protests. Fork in hand, I began to devour it piece by piece, waving at her to sit down between bites. The lopsided grin on her face told me that she enjoyed every bit of praise I could muster as to the taste.

Gol got what little I remembered to leave for them, a fact that was protested quite loudly.

‘Well,” I blinked and realized how much I missed home-baked goods. “That was excellent. My many thanks to you and your parents.”

The frown on her face indicated a dampened mood at my words.

“That was all me. Ma and Pa are too busy fightin again to bother comin to visit.”

That topic seemed an obvious minefield, and not one I was eager to explore.

She lived just up the road, I learned. Her parents owned their own farm, but with their own planting season done, there was little to keep her entertained. Not that that surprised me, in all honesty. Any distraction from the routine of farm life was a thoroughly welcome one, in my experience.

“So, with you being late in the year for plantain and everything, I wondered if you might require some help around the farm.”

“Well,” I chose my words carefully. “You have come at an opportune time. A perfect one, even. I do have a very long list of labours that need to be attended to, and would offer a fair wage in return for honest work. How quickly can you begin?”

“Well, I do have mornin and evening chores round the farm, but I can work here in-between. What do you have in mind, and what wages do you offer?”

I liked that. I really did. The can-do, get up and go attitude always garnered some respect from me.

“Given the amount of tasks I have attend to, it would be a godsend to have someone complete the seeding for me while I turn my focus to other things. The fields have been broken up, and all that remains is for the seed to be sown.”

“How soon do you want me to start?”

“Now?” I ventured, then blinked as Ishila hopped back to her feet, easy grin on her face.

“Well, lead the way.”

I obliged. The young woman obviously knew what she was doing, and given that she lived on a farm herself, I expected no less. I took very little time for her to begin sowing the seeds, and I nodded at her careful, even distribution.

“Do you have anything to scare the birds away?” She asked between handfuls, and I paused. I had completely forgotten about this. Given that machines in my former world injected the seed underneath the soil, there was very little worry of it lying loosely and being eaten by birds. It was also about then that I took note of just how many there were,

Flying overhead, perched on trees. All ready to swoop and begin to devour the precious grains of my livelihood.

“None.” I admitted. “How does your family go about this task?”

“Pa has a Skill, but I don’t see how that will help you,” She shrugged. “Scarecrows might work.”

Unless I buried the seeds by hand, most of my crop would be gone come morning. It was then that idea struck me. I could make a harrow with what materials I had on hand. I left the girl with instructions to continue her work and set off back to my farm, a plan in mind.

With rope, wood and far too much time, I had a crude wooden harrow firmly assembled in less than an hour. It was shoddy, yes, But I needed it for this single purpose until a better one could be obtained. I carried it back and dropped it at the field’s edge. With a grin, Ishila informed me that she could seed and pull the harrow at the same time.

I watched as she tied the rope to her waist, grabbed the sack of seed in one hand and began to walk. The wooden fangs sunk into the ground and flipped the earth as she pulled it along, all the while methodically spreading seeds. I wasn’t the only strong person here, it seemed.

Still, I had no reason to doubt her abilities, and with one last wave, I set off back to the farm. With the girl doing the planting for me, I could focus on other projects. I required a garden, preferably near the house, where my own vegetables would be grown. That was next, and then I would need to fence a pasture for any cows, as well as erect a shed for them to be milked in.

This called for another visit to Hullbretch to gather wood from the carpenter and if at all possible, hides. If Hullbretch had a tannery, I would soon know.

Or I could just ask Ishila. With a sigh, I trotted back out to field and just asked.

“Yes, it does.” She nodded, working all the while. “But you could just as easily ask Le’rish.”

“The huntress.” She continued through my polite confusion. “She lives not far from here. Save yourself the trip to town and get your hides for better prices.”

Well, the more you knew..

Directions to the huntress’ home in memory, I made a mental note to pay her visit on the morrow and returned to break up ground for a garden. The rest of the day passed in blur as I hacked away dirt and carved out smooth rows next to my home. I shaved rocks with Garek’s axe and lined a border to keep the weeds out, then began to plant seeds I had brought from the general store by hand.

The sun had begun to set when Ishila trotted over, sweat on her brow and a smile on her face.

“Field’s done.” She announced just as I was about to ask if she was quitting for the day.

Well, that was quick. And yet, her work was not sloppy, I found. There was very little loose seed, and the harrow had been dragged in neat, methodical rows. Cheerful, a hard worker and thorough. I liked her already.

“Well,” I rumbled, coin purse in hand.. “I always believe in paying people for what I think their effort was worth.” With that, I counted out several silver coins and handed them to her. Quite a bit, I was aware. Three days wages for most menial city jobs. The orc girl pocketed them with a grin, obviously well aware of her worth.

“Pleasure workin for ya.” She nodded. “See ya in the mornin?”

She was gone as soon as I confirmed, and I watched her sleek form race back up the trail, all bustle and the raw energy of youth. And so, another day well spent had passed.

Farmer Level Three reached. Sleep to apply.

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