Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 60: The Harvest Begin

The meeting room was quiet. It sat inside one of the palace’s inner chambers. Thick stone walls kept out the noise from the palace halls. A single lantern lit the long table where five people were seated.

Isaac stood at the head of the table. Broner, Corpuz, Elder Peter, and Aiah sat across from him, listening closely.

"I asked for this meeting because something isn’t right," Isaac said. "Tiny found something below the southern farmlands."

"Tiny." Corpuz brows furrowed.

Isaac gulped. "Well my locust."

He paused, then continued.

"The ground’s dead. All of it. No worms, no rot, nothing growing. And it’s not just dead land. It’s spreading. Tiny picked up necrotic energy below the surface. It’s artificial. Like something was planted."

Broner leaned forward. "Planted?"

"Yeah," Isaac said. "The energy’s moving, slow but steady. We even caught movement underground, no heat, no mana, no heartbeat. Things are moving under there."

Corpuz stiffened. "So... some things are buried?"

Isaac nodded. "Tiny saw cracks form in the middle of a dead field. They didn’t break, just opened. Like some things are waking up." fгeewebnovёl.com

"What’s that?" Aiah asked, tense.

Isaac crossed his arms. "Tiny said, those things that are moving... they’re not alive, but they’re not resting either. And then the link cut off. I haven’t heard from him since."

The room went silent.

Isaac looked them all in the eye.

"We thought the mist was killing the land, but instead, it’s feeding it."

"We’ll move after the ceremony," Aiah said, though her mind was still drifting.

"We can’t wait," Isaac replied, his voice firm.

Aiah shook her head. "If we act now, the nobles will panic. The people will think war is coming. We’re not ready for that."

"We don’t need the whole city to know," Isaac said. "Just a small group. We move quiet and fast."

Broner nodded. "We strike now. If we wait, we lose the chance."

Corpuz crossed his arms. "I’m in."

Aiah glanced at Isaac, then lowered her eyes. ’If he leaves now... he might miss my coronation.’

Part of her wanted him there. Another part wanted to go with him.

Before she could speak, Isaac looked at her.

"If we move fast and nothing goes wrong, we’ll be back before the ceremony starts," he said. "The farmlands aren’t far."

She blinked, surprised that he read her so clearly. Then she gave a small nod. "Alright. We do it your way."

"We need you, Elder Peter. You’re the only one who understands how to examine strange things like this," Isaac said.

Elder Peter let out a sigh. "I can’t go. I’m leading the preparations for the ceremony."

Aiah spoke up again. "Then we bring someone else. I know someone who can help us."

—-----

After the meeting, Aiah stepped deeper into the dungeon. Two guards stood outside a sealed cell. They moved aside when they saw her.

Inside, Miss Wesson sat alone on a bench. Her hair was a mess. Chains bound her ankles, but her back was straight and her eyes sharp.

Aiah stepped in and closed the door behind her.

"You look better than I expected," Aiah said.

Wesson smirked. "Surprised I’m still sane?"

"No," Aiah replied. "Just wondering how long you’ve been waiting for someone to finally talk to you."

Wesson didn’t answer.

Aiah stepped closer. "I know what Geoffrey did. He held you by the neck. You didn’t start this. But the nobles, they won’t care. They’ll use you as a scapegoat to save their own necks."

"They already did," Wesson muttered. "I told them what the king wanted. They agreed. Then they threw me down here."

"I know you wanted Bulcan to be strong," Aiah said, her voice steady. "I want that too. But not by turning people into monsters."

Wesson looked up.

"We can do better," Aiah continued. "Your skills, they’re not evil. They were just used the wrong way. Let’s change that. Help us rebuild the right way."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Aiah pulled out a key from her cloak and stepped forward.

Wesson raised an eyebrow.

Aiah unlocked the chains.

—----

Inside the palace strategy room, Broner and Corpuz stood around a simple map table with Isaac.

"What’s your plan?" Broner asked, arms crossed. "You’ll need backup."

Isaac shook his head. "Not a thousand soldiers. That’ll draw too much attention."

Broner raised an eyebrow. "Then how many?"

Isaac looked him in the eye. "Actually, I want you to stay here, with the princess."

Broner’s brows furrowed, but he nodded slowly. "You think something might happen during the ceremony?"

"I hope not," Isaac said, "but we can’t risk it. I need someone I trust by her side."

Broner let out a breath. "Understood."

Corpuz stepped forward. "Then I’ll go. How many should I bring?"

"Just a hundred," Isaac said. "Sixty of them should be archers. The rest... it doesn’t matter if they’re swordsmen, spearmen, or even servants. As long as they’re brave and ready to fight."

Corpuz narrowed his eyes. "That many archers... why?"

Isaac didn’t answer right away. He stared at the map, finger tracing the southern edge of the farmlands.

"Just make sure we have the archers," he said.

Corpuz nodded. "I’ll have the men ready by morning."

"No... We’ll leave tonight." Isaac said.

—-----

After parting ways with Corpuz, Isaac walked alone through the quiet streets of the capital.

The sun was just beginning to rise, vendors were setting up. Guards passed by, nodding at him. But Isaac barely noticed.

His steps slowed as he reached a small blacksmith shop tucked between two stone buildings. The smell of iron and coal hung in the air. Tools of all kinds were displayed outside, blades, farming tools, armor pieces, even kitchen knives.

Isaac stepped closer. His eyes scanned the tools, but one caught his attention.

An old hoe, its wooden handle rough but solid, leaned against the wall.

He picked it up, testing the weight in his hands. It wasn’t a weapon. Not really. But it felt familiar. Like home. Exactly what he’s looking for.

The blacksmith inside noticed him and stepped out, wiping his hands with a rag. "You looking to buy something better than that? Got spears, blades..."

"No," Isaac said simply. "This one’s enough."

The blacksmith looked at him strangely, but didn’t argue. "Suit yourself."

Isaac paid, then turned back toward the street, the hoe resting on his shoulder.

—-----

Night fell over the capital.

The gates stood open, lit by torches, and beyond them waited one hundred soldiers lined up in quiet formation. Most wore standard armor, worn but cared for. Some looked too young. Others carried only basic weapons. But none of them flinched.

They stood ready.

Isaac stepped outside. His twin sickles hung at his sides. The old hoe was strapped to his back. He walked forward without a word, eyes sweeping over the group.

Putol stood near the front, resting his blade on his shoulder. Next to him, Nai held a large chopping knife, and Ben clutched his bow, a quiver full of arrows on his back.

Corpuz stepped up beside Isaac. "They insisted," he said with a slight shrug.

Isaac gave the three a look, then nodded. "Of course they did," he said simply, as if he expected it all along.

He turned to Corpuz. "These archers. Are they sharp shooters?"

Corpuz smiled a bit. "Good enough. Not as excellent as me, though."

Isaac grunted. "They’ll do."

As the soldiers mounted up, Isaac swung onto his own horse. The others followed. They were about to move when a familiar voice called out behind them.

"Wait."

Aiah approached, dressed in a cloak. Elder Peter walked beside her.

Then another figure stepped out from the shadows.

Miss Wesson.

Corpuz stiffened in the saddle. "What? She’s... free?"

He stared, shocked, fully aware of what she had done for Geoffrey, and what that meant.

Aiah faced the soldiers. Her voice was clear.

"Miss Wesson will join this mission. She’s a Class A mage scientist, and I believe she knows more about what we’re facing than anyone else. Even more than Elder Peter."

Peter gave a slow nod, silent.

"We need her to find the truth behind what’s happening in the farmlands." aiahs voice was unwavering.

No one questioned her. No one dared.

The gates opened wider. The horses moved forward.

Isaac led them, the night wind brushing past his cloak. Hopper perched quietly on his shoulder, then crawled up and settled into his hair, unmoving, like part of him.

Behind him, soldiers rode in quiet rows, their eyes glancing at him and his strange weaponry.

Nai leaned toward Putol and whispered, "He left his axe... brought an old hoe instead."

Putol raised an eyebrow. "Well, he is a farmer. Maybe we’re gonna plant something."

Even Corpuz, riding silently beside him, wore a puzzled expression.

But Isaac’s hearing was sharp.

He smiled to himself, kept riding, then called back loud enough for them, and the rest of the soldiers to hear.

"Get ready."

They all looked up.

Isaac’s eyes didn’t turn, but his voice was firm.

"We’re going to harvest some things tonight."