Oh Great! I was Reincarnated as a Farmer

by Benjamin Kerei

  It also somehow regulated the weather by directing different intensities of sunlight towards different parts of the planet, causing the perpetual late spring/early summer that I had spent the last year and change living through.

  It was a lot to get your head around, and I honestly couldn’t believe it until I saw it for myself. But as far as religions went, it was no wackier than the church of the flying spaghetti monster.

  There were footsteps behind me and then a sharp intake of breath before a familiar voice said, “What do you think you are doing here?”

  I turned to see Archbishop Varla walking through the temple entrance, followed by a line of acolytes. Leading the line was Damella, the girl who had killed me. She’d done a fair bit of growing since I had last seen her and could no longer be mistaken for someone three years younger than she was. Damella kept her eyes down and her expression solemn in contrast to Varla’s open anger.

  Seeing Damella didn’t fill me with anger or hate. Yes, she’d killed me when she brought me here, causing me more harm than anyone else had ever come close to, leaving an emotional scar that still ached. But the pain she caused me was through youthful, arrogant negligence and not specifically intentional. My actions with the cane were far more intentional than anything she did to me.

  Remembering what I had done wasn’t something I liked to think about. Knowing you weren’t half as good a man as you thought you were was rough. I’d crossed a line I thought I wouldn’t cross. And I had to live with that knowledge.

  The servant who had brought me glanced at me for a second before replying. “Landlord Arnold is here to receive his blessings, Archbishop.”

  Archbishop Varla sucked in a breath, losing much of her bluster. “That’s you?”

  “That’s me,” I said, fighting off a grin. Watching Varla squirm was surprisingly enjoyable. “How are you keeping, Varla?”

  She paused, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear, trying to compose herself. “I am well.”

  “Me too. I imagine that’s all we need to talk about for you to do these blessings.” My tone made it clear I wasn’t here to cause trouble unless I had to.

  She nodded once, losing some of her intensity.

  Then the damn trumpeter walked in and blasted his damn horn. Archbishop Varla cringed, shoulders tightening like a cable under a heavy burden. A second later, the herald followed, made his announcement, and the king walked in.

  I stood with everyone else and bowed. Even with my new attributes, I couldn’t fight the impulse.

  There was a moment of seriousness as everyone remained down, and then the king said, “You may rise.”

  An excited shriek erupted from my killer. “Daddy!” She ran and leapt into his arms.

  The king’s face split into a grin as he hugged his daughter. The archbishop cringed further, staring at me, nearly panicked.

  The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Retrospect is a wonderful tool. My arrival in this world was all sorts of bizarre. I didn’t see it at the time, because I’d been disorientated, but now I finally understood.

  When I’d first woken on the altar, Damella was the only person in the room with me. She’d smiled at me excitedly. Then I’d asked her where I was and the smile vanished. She’d turned and run from the room screaming. Ten seconds later, a cleric had rushed into the room with his right hand glowing and I was out for the count.

  I didn't even remember anything hitting me. One second I was conscious and the next I was out cold.

  The second time I’d woke on the altar, Varla had been there, fiddling with the ring on my finger. Her tone had been calm and caring, designed to put me at ease. Everything she’d done was designed to put me at ease. I now knew the process of attuning me to the ring took far longer than it should have. She’d carefully loaded me with information, subtly confusing me until I couldn’t think straight, and then she told me why I was here, and whose fault it was.

  It had pushed me over the edge.

  She’d made me angry enough to want violence.

  For the longest time, I’d wondered why she offered to let me cane Damella. Varla’s actions on the surface looked like they were designed to appease me, and after the fact I couldn’t figure out why she would care. I was nobody. I didn’t matter. Why would she want to keep me happy?

  The answer was Varla didn’t want to keep me happy. She didn’t care about me at all, but she did care about Damella.

  No one—except the king—was above the law. All I’d had to do was say I wanted to press charges and Varla would have had to inform the city guard, which would have potentially gotten Damella a 25-year sentence. Like all those in power in Radian, she was oath-bound to uphold the law. The only way she could protect Damella was to make sure I didn’t press charges. So, she’d confused me, sent me into a rage, and let me cane Damella, all to make me trust her more than I should have.

  She was a level 74 cleric. Despite looking like she was in her early thirties, she was likely in her seventies. She wasn’t young or naive. She probably had 300 points in her wisdom. She’d read me while manipulating me. Figuring out how to poke me to do what she needed. She’d convinced me not to press charges and then immediately tricked me into fast travelling across the kingdom, giving her a ten-week head start in case I decided to change my mind.

  Putting me so far away confused me further, buying her more time, as I tried to come to grips with my new reality. By the time I understood my situation well enough to remember Damella, my anger had waned, and I was able to look at the situation objectively.

  She’d been five steps ahead of me the entire way through our first meeting, weaving a series of actions and reaction that led to the outcome she wanted. And she had got what she wanted.

  Damella and I were even as far as I was concerned. She hurt me. I hurt her. There was no need to press charges. The part I hadn’t understood until now was why Varla would go through so much trouble to set this all up. Now I knew.

  Damella wasn’t just some rich noble or merchant’s daughter. Damella was a princess.

  The cascade of attributes I’d received from the crown’s mark had increased my wisdom, and details I would have missed before were now obvious. Like the fact that Varla probably thought that this would be a good opportunity for me to oust her for what she had done and maybe try to blackmail the king at the same time. She wasn’t wrong.

  But more than a year had passed. I was no longer upset by my new life the way I had been. Sure, I’d never see my family or friends again, but I had new friends, better friends in some ways, and I had come to accept the part about my family, even if I hadn’t yet gotten over the pain completely.

  Besides, my death was an accident. There was no need to make someone else suffer. My suffering was enough.

  I didn’t say that, of course. I was annoyed enough with losing ten weeks of my life over that whole fast travel incident that I let the archbishop stew, enjoying every second of it.

  It only took a few minutes for the king to suspect something was wrong, and even then, I think he may have noticed straightaway and only waited to address the problem because he was talking to his daughter. Once he was done with his initial hello, he walked right up to the archbishop and said, “What are you hiding from me?”

  His guards’ hands moved to the hilts of their swords. I’d been informed that every one of them had passed through their third threshold, and some had passed through their fourth, gaining a second class. Each man and woman in his guard was so well-equipped they could hold their own against a dozen warriors or monsters of the same level and strength.

  The archbishop spluttered, attempting to form a sentence. I think she was trying to lie, but the king's sheer presence made that sort of thing nearly impossible.

  The acolytes looked on in astonishment. The king’s daughter finally noticed me, did a double-take, and cringed.

  The double-take was fair. I was fifty pounds lighter and far more handsome than when I arrived. After the feast, I spe
nt fifteen minutes looking in the mirror trying to get used to the changes. I still looked like me. It was just a better me. A way hotter me. I was totally going to get laid more often.

  The cringe was also fair. I technically still held her fate in my hands. I could press charges any time I wanted to before the next solar festival occurred. After it did, it was like the slates were wiped clean and any crime committed before would not be punished.

  The king turned his gaze on me. “You are involved?”

  I had no idea how he’d worked that out. I thought my poker face was better than that. The number of attributes the man possessed had to be insane.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” I couldn’t stop myself from replying or even attempt to stop myself from replying once he asked me.

  “Then answer my question.”

  “The archbishop is trying to protect your daughter. She is the one who incarnated me. But in doing so, she accidentally killed me in my own world.” Of all the reactions I expected, the one I got surprised me.

  The king smiled.

  “Ah, you finally make sense. I thought it was because you were incarnate, someone from another world.” The king turned his gaze on the archbishop. “Stop spluttering. Landlord Arnold has no intention of accusing my daughter of murder.” The king turned to me. “And you won’t gain another level in your mark from making that an oath. The mark has already read your intentions and factored that in. It’s why you got those extra levels I didn’t expect and why I couldn’t see how I should reward you.”

  Damn. That was exactly what I was hoping for.

  “Now, Archbishop Varla, give this man the blessings he earned so we may have a private discussion about you keeping secrets from me.”

  The archbishop moved to obey.

  + 9 Endurance

  + 6 Constitution

  + 15 Intelligence

  The foyer for the capital’s adventurers’ guild was identical to the one in Melgrim which made navigating it easier. However, here they were so busy they had a line. I waited for nearly fifteen minutes before reaching the front, nervous the entire time.

  I’d been so busy enjoying Varla’s discomfort and figuring out why she’d gone to such lengths to manipulate me that it hadn’t occurred to me until after I left that I had caned the king’s daughter. That I caned the daughter of the only person in the kingdom that wouldn’t go crazy if he killed me. That I caned the daughter of the only person in the kingdom that was literally above the law and could do whatever he wanted to me. That I caned the daughter of someone who I physically couldn’t function around or stop myself from answering truthfully.

  “No, Your Highness I don’t want to hit your daughter again. I have no feelings of anger towards her.” I was pretty sure I could survive if I gave that answer.

  “No, Your Highness I still don’t feel bad about caning her.” That one would get me killed.

  I needed to get out of the capital.

  The only reason I hadn’t made a run for it was my Greater Fearlessness Mark was letting me ignore all the painful and imaginative ways my mind was telling me the king could kill me. It was letting me think clearly even when my brain didn’t want to think clearly.

  Basically, it let me know I was fucked.

  If the king decided to act, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop him. So I might as well continue with life ignoring the headsman’s axe until it hit me.

  Ember, the elderly adventure woman behind the help desk, smiled. “What can I do for you today?”

  I placed the badge Talia had given me, signalling I was a friend of the Melgrim Adventurers’ Guild, down on the counter. “Ember, I would like to talk to your quartermaster about purchasing a complete set of common and uncommon blessings.” Talia informed me this was the only place in the kingdom where you could make such a ridiculous purchase.

  “I’ll see if Quartermaster Magwir is available.”

  I nodded and took a seat. Ember disappeared for several minutes before returning to lead me through the building to the quartermaster's office.

  Magwir’s office was filled with dozens of houseplants. Every available space around his desk was covered in pots. He wore a grey wizard robe with gold sigils, and his staff rested behind him, but he was far from your usual scrawny wizard. The man was built like a powerlifter, his biceps thicker than my thighs. “I am told you want to purchase a complete set of common and uncommon blessings,” he said gruffly.

  “I do.”

  “You’re a friend to the adventurers’ guild, so I’ll be upfront and give you our regular price for this sort of thing. Before you try to haggle it down, I’m going to tell you that it’s less than the 50% markup that your status earns you, and it won’t do you any good. This is a take it or leave it sort of deal.”

  “Okay, how much?”

  “Ten thousand crowns for the complete set of monster cores. You’ll have every blessing you can receive on this continent and a few you can’t. There are 786 in total. The guild keeps a list of individuals who are interested in receiving blessings that require more than one person to receive them at once, which will bring the price down somewhat, but you are going to have to pay the cost upfront and be reimbursed later.”

  My eyes widened. “How many can I receive alone?”

  “Two hundred and sixty-five.”

  I nodded. “How many can I receive with up to four people?”

  He paused for a second. “Four hundred and ninety-two. There are only another thirty-eight if you have five and twenty-seven if you have six. After that, most blessings require a minimum of between ten and thirty recipients.”

  “I’ll take them.” I opened my purse.

  “How are you enjoying the fish?” Isabelle asked later that evening.

  We were in the dining room of the apartment the king had given her, Jeric, and Emily, sitting down one end of a table that was long enough to seat forty. “It’s good,” I said. “It makes me hate that Blackwood is so far from the sea.”

  Jeric chuckled. “He’s not here to talk about fish, dear.”

  Isabelle politely glared at her husband. “We do not mention business at the dinner table.”

  “Maybe I just wanted company,” I said.

  Emily began to giggle before stifling it.

  Isabelle looked me in the eye, trying not to laugh. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have started inviting yourself in with the words 'I need to talk to you about something…oh, do I smell dinner I’m starving.’” Jeric and Emily laughed as Isabelle continued. “I’ve not known you for long, but I’m already quite sure that when you are planning something, you lead with it.”

  “That’s fair, but I’m not here to talk about business. I’m here to ask a favour.”

  “What do you need?” Jeric asked.

  “I’ve bought a complete set of common and uncommon blessings, and I need you three to be place-fillers so I can gain the first 400 or so. I’ve also got 59 double-ups you can have.”

  Emily and Isabelle began choking.

  Jeric had wisely not put anything in his mouth while I was making the suggestion. “Is that why you needed the casino winnings?”

  “Yeah—I told you that you would like what I was going to do with it.”

  Jeric smacked his wife on the back, helping her dislodge whatever was caught in her throat. “How many do you need us to take?”

  “Well, there are 87 that require two people, 59 that require three people, and 81 that require four people.”

  Jeric nodded, rubbing his wife’s back, fighting to keep a straight face. “So Emily will receive 227 blessings.”

  “You are forgetting the 59 double-ups I already have, and there might be a few more once the guild sees who is in the city and advertises around.” I turned and looked at Emily. Her jaw was so low that it nearly rested on the table. She stared at me, dumbfounded. “This isn’t an attempt to marry you.”

  Jeric finally lost it. Deep belly laughter boomed throughout the dining hall.

&nb
sp; + 105 Endurance

  + 240 Constitution

  + 88 Intelligence

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  RECRUITMENT

  Gaining 433 new attributes through blessings took ten days since the cleric also had to give them to Jeric’s family at the same time. That was ten days of lying in temples having clerics paint runes and sigils all over my skin. That was ten days where the headsman’s axe never landed. And every second of it was worth it. I had more health than a troll. I was a beast.

  I felt incredible.

  My endurance meant I didn’t get physically tired, and my constitution meant I always felt great. I needed only six hours of sleep each night, and I woke up feeling refreshed. I was now a morning person. There was no cruel world that had pulled me from my slumber, only a bright new day. It was so…weird.

  My sleep wasn’t the only change. I was four inches taller and a solid six foot two. My skin was flawless. The couple of grey hairs and small lines around my eyes were gone, and my resting heart rate was nineteen beats per minute.

  Those changes were amazing, but they were nothing compared to my new intelligence. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d broken down in tears several times.

  I could now remember every detail of my parents’ and sister’s faces. The way their eyes creased differently when they laughed. I could remember the exact smell of my father’s aftershave as he prepared for work. I could remember my sister’s infectious giggle. Every vacation together was as fresh to me as if it had happened yesterday. Every moment we shared, every Christmas day, was with me now and forever.

  That meant that every moment of the arena and the walk back to the village after the trolls was there too, but I didn’t care. The nightmares were worth it to have my family with me. I remembered so many things I had forgotten. I also realized I’d been such an ass to them when I hadn't needed to be.