The Demon Lord's Favorite Farmer

The Dead Fields of Orizas

Hafiz looked at the gray pile of dust, then back at the beautiful, terrifying woman standing over him. "And if I can't?"

Velina smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It was the smile of a winter storm.

"Then I suppose I'll have to eat you," she said casually. "At least that way, a little bit of the sun stays within the palace. Now, get to work."

"Right. Great. No pressure," Hafiz muttered, his heart doing a frantic tap-dance against his ribs. He looked down at the pile of ash. "Wait, you want me to do it here? On the floor? In a drafty throne room?"

"Is there a problem with the location?" Velina asked, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"It’s a palace, not a greenhouse! If you want things to grow, I need to see where you’ve actually tried to plant stuff. Show me your garden."

Velina glanced at Kael. The General gave a stiff nod and gestured for the soldiers to haul Hafiz up.

"Take him to the Royal Grounds," Velina commanded, turning back toward her throne. "And Kael? If he tries to run, break his legs. He doesn't need them to plant seeds."

"Understood, My Lord," Kael said. He grabbed Hafiz by the shoulder, his grip like an iron vice. "Move, farmer."

"I'm moving! I'm moving! You don't have to steer me like a plow!" Hafiz grumbled as they led him out of the hall.

They walked through winding corridors of obsidian and bone-white stone. The air was cold, tasting of metal and old soot. There were no windows, only glowing violet crystals embedded in the walls that cast a sickly, flickering light.

"So," Hafiz said, trying to fill the oppressive silence. "General, right? Kael?"

"Don't speak to me," Kael replied.

"Just trying to be neighborly. Since you kidnapped me and all. Do you guys have a cafeteria? Or do you just eat 'sunshine' and 'hopes and dreams' like your boss suggested?"

Kael stopped and looked down at him. "We eat what we can scavenge from the borders. It is not enough. That is why you are here."

"Right. The 'world is dying' thing. Look, Kael, I'm going to be honest with you. That pile of dirt back there? It wasn't just dead. It was... well, it was basically trash. You can't just wish a plant into existence."

"The mages tried," Kael said, resuming his stride. "They poured mana into the earth for decades. It produced nothing but thorns that dissolved into smoke by morning."

"Well, yeah! Because magic isn't water! You’re trying to jump-start a horse that’s already been turned into glue!"

They reached a set of heavy bronze doors. Two guards, even more skeletal than the ones before, pulled them open.

"The Royal Garden," Kael announced.

Hafiz stepped out and stopped dead. He stared at the sight before him, his jaw hanging open. "You... you have got to be kidding me."

It wasn't a garden. It was a massive, circular pit, roughly the size of a village square, surrounded by high stone walls. The ground was a uniform, chalky gray, cracked into deep fissures. A few shriveled, blackened stumps stuck out of the ground like rotting teeth.

"This is it?" Hafiz asked, his voice echoing in the dead space.

"The pride of the Chariya lineage," Kael said, though even he sounded a bit hollow. "The Last Green reached its end here fifty years ago."

Hafiz walked forward, his boots crunching on the surface. He knelt down, plunging his hand into the soil. Or rather, he tried to. The surface was as hard as sun-baked clay. He had to use a sharp rock to chip away at it. He pulled up a handful of the gray grit, sniffing it, then, to the horror of the guards, tasting a tiny bit on his tongue.

"Bah! Salt!" Hafiz spat, wiping his mouth. "It’s full of salt! And sulfur! What have you been doing to this land?"

"We defended it," a guard snapped, stepping forward. "We warded it against the blight with every spell in the book!"

"Well, your spells are poison!" Hafiz shouted, standing up and dusting off his knees. "This isn't a curse. It’s just extreme soil mismanagement. You’ve packed it so tight the air can’t get in, and you’ve let the minerals build up until it’s toxic."

Kael frowned. "Mismanagement? This is the work of the Great Decay."

"No, this is the work of people who think 'earth' is just something you stand on while you kill each other," Hafiz retorted. "Where’s your water source?"

Kael pointed to a deep, dark trench running along the perimeter of the pit. "The ritual canal. It draws from the subterranean flows."

Hafiz walked over to the trench. The water inside was a dark, stagnant purple. "And you use this for the plants?"

"When there were plants, yes," Kael said. "But the water is for the protection of the palace. It is meant to drown any who would tunnel beneath the walls."

"So you took water meant for killing people and gave it to the flowers. Real smart, Kael. It's stagnant. It’s probably got enough rot in it to kill a dragon, let alone a turnip."

"It is sacred water!" the guard hissed.

"It’s gross water!" Hafiz yelled back. "It needs to move! Water that doesn't move is just a liquid grave! You need irrigation. Channels. Drainage."

The guards looked at each other, utterly bewildered.

"Irrigation?" one whispered. "Is that a type of light magic?"

"It’s a type of 'digging a hole so the water goes where you want it' magic!" Hafiz put his hands on his hips. "Alright, listen up. If I’m going to make anything grow in this literal ash-tray, I’m going to need a few things. And I’m going to need them now."

Kael folded his arms. "The Queen expects a miracle, farmer. Not a construction project."

"Then the Queen is going to be eating a very disappointed farmer in three days," Hafiz snapped. "Now, do you want my help or not?"

Kael remained silent for a long moment, his glowing eyes searching Hafiz’s face. Finally, he gave a short nod. "State your requirements."

"First," Hafiz said, pointing to the ground. "I need tools. Real ones. Iron spades, hoes, and a rake. Not those decorative spears you guys carry."

"We can provide iron," Kael said.

"Second," Hafiz continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I need fertilizer. Natural fertilizer."

"Explain," Kael demanded.

"I need the waste from your stables. Whatever beasts you ride, those big, scaly things I saw outside, I need their droppings. All of it. Collected and brought here in buckets."

The guards recoiled in disgust. One of them actually gagged.

"You want us... to bring you filth?" the guard stammered. "In the Royal Garden?"

"It’s not filth, it’s gold!" Hafiz shouted. "That dirt is dead because it has no life in it. Poop is life! It’s nutrients! It’s... look, just get me the damn buckets!"

"This is an insult," the guard growled, reaching for his sword. "General, let me execute him now. He mocks the Crown."

"Stand down," Kael commanded. He looked at Hafiz. "You truly believe this... waste... will bring back the green?"

"I don't believe it, I know it," Hafiz said, though he was sweating internally. "But it’s going to take more than just a few buckets. I need a crew of men who aren't afraid to get their hands dirty. And I need someone to help me divert that canal so we can flush out the salt."

"I will give you ten laborers," Kael said. "But they are soldiers. If you treat them like servants, they will likely kill you regardless of my orders."

"I’ll treat them like farmers," Hafiz said. "Which is much harder than being a soldier, trust me."

As the guards hurried off to fulfill the strange requests, the heavy thud of boots announced a new arrival. Velina Chariya stepped out into the garden, her dark gown trailing over the gray dust. She looked at the barren pit, then at Hafiz.

"You haven't started," she observed, her voice cold.

"I'm setting the stage, Your Majesty," Hafiz said, bowing with just a hint of sarcasm. "Your garden is a disaster. It’s a miracle the air is even breathable in here."

"The air is sustained by the Heart of the Spire," Velina said, walking toward him. "The land, however, does not respond. Kael tells me you've asked for... stable refuse."

"It’s called fertilizer, and yes. Your soil is starving. It needs to eat before it can feed you."

Velina looked at the gray earth, then back at Hafiz. She stepped closer, her presence so cold it made the hair on his arms stand up. "You have a strange way of working, Hafiz Korya. My mages spoke of ley lines and celestial alignments. You speak of... dung."

"That’s because your mages were looking at the sky while the problem was under their boots," Hafiz said, refusing to flinch. "You want a miracle? Give me three days. If I don't show you a sprout by then, you can have me for dinner. But if I do... I want a real bed. And a cat. I’m serious about the cat."

Velina stared at him for a long, agonizing minute. Then, a small, terrifying smile touched her lips.

"Three days," she whispered. "If the earth does not break by the third sunrise, I will peel the skin from your 'sun-kissed' body and hang it from the spire as a warning to the next 'master' of life we find."

She turned to Kael. "Give him what he needs. But watch him. If he tries to plant anything other than life, kill him."

"Yes, My Lord," Kael said.

Velina walked away, leaving Hafiz standing in the center of the dead pit. He looked at his hands, then at the desolate landscape.

"Three days," Hafiz whispered to himself. "Right. No problem. Just gotta turn a salt-mine into a meadow with nothing but demon poop and a bad attitude. Easy."

He looked up at Kael, who was still looming over him.

"Well? What are you waiting for, General? Those buckets aren't going to fill themselves! Let's get to work!"