Right now, Varn was standing in front of a shop.
A shop with a symbol of a girl... wearing bunny ears?
It looked sketchy, but Varn couldn't help it. This was a mission—and it had to be completed.
He remembered his last conversation with Karion.
—
"Umm... Lord, if I go there alone, what are you going to be doing?"
Varn hesitantly took the pouch of money Karion handed him.
"What I'll be doing? Something very important—which you don't have the qualifications to understand. Now go."
Karion pointed in a random direction, shooing him away before Varn could start whining like a toddler.
—
Back to reality.
Varn sighed, pushed open the door, and entered the shop.
It was... normal. Just like any other shop.
But still a little strange.
A wooden desk stood before him, a quill and inkwell resting on top—despite pens being invented long ago. A thick, dark red book sat closed beside a candle that hadn't been lit.
Behind the desk sat a man, about half his size.
No—Varn corrected himself—the desk was just his size.
The man rubbed his long brown beard, which nearly reached his chest. He looked oddly muscular for someone that small. A monocle sat over one eye—his other eye, glowing a deep red.
Then he spoke.
"What do you want to buy, young man?"
"What your shop sells," Varn replied.
The man blinked once. Twice. Then slowly leaned back in his chair like Varn had just told him the sky was edible.
"This is a seed shop," he said, voice as dry as a desert scroll. "What else would I sell? Eternal youth?"
Varn shrugged. "Hey, I've been in weirder places."
The man grunted and waved a hand lazily to the shelves behind him. "Pick what you want. Everything's labelled. Prices are on the bags. If you try haggling, I'll raise the price."
Varn nodded and turned to inspect the shelves. Wooden crates lined the wall, each filled with cloth pouches tied with twine. Little signs were nailed to the shelves:
"Cabbage – 3 silver"
"Sunroot – 4 silver"
"Firemelon – 12 silver. Don't ask."
"Mosscorn – 6 silver"
"Questionable Beans – 2 silver. Good luck."
He paused. "What are Questionable Beans?"
"Exactly what they sound like," the man replied without looking up. "Sometimes they grow. Sometimes they scream."
Varn carefully stepped away from that crate.
After a few minutes of browsing and mental budgeting, he grabbed five pouches—wheat, cabbage, sunroot, mosscorn, and something labelled "Beginner's Luck Mix – 5 silver" with a little doodle of a confused carrot.
He dropped them on the desk.
The man inspected the bags, then looked at Varn. "Total: one gold, twenty-two silver and 14 coppers."
Varn counted out the coins. "Keep the extra copper."
The man raised a brow. "Generous."
"I'm not generous," Varn muttered. "I just don't want to carry loose change."
The man chuckled. "A wise customer. You'll go far. Probably not in farming, though."
Varn took the pouches, turned around, and paused at the door.
"Hey," he asked, "what's with the bunny logo?"
The man stared at him for a beat, then sighed like this wasn't the first time someone had asked.
"My daughter designed it," he said simply. "She was five."
"Oh," Varn said, feeling vaguely like a villain. "It's… cute."
The man gave him a rare smile. "She wanted the shop to feel 'friendly and fluffy.' So I sell seeds. And deal with violent adventurers. While staring at bunny ears. Every day."
Varn opened his mouth. Closed it. Gave an awkward thumbs-up, then stepped out.
---
A few days later.
Kairon, Varn, Elira, and… who's this guy?
Standing beside Elira was a man dressed like a confetti explosion—oversized sleeves, mismatched socks, and a hat with bells that jingled every time he breathed. His expression was strangely calm for someone who looked like a walking circus accident.
They all stood infront of a farm with half-grown crops.
Elira squinted at him. "Are you a jester?"
"I am a jester," the man replied proudly.
"Why are you here?"
"I was hired. I planted half the seeds."
Elira blinked. "You planted seeds… in that?"
The jester looked down at his colorful clothes. "Fashion does not hinder function."
"I hired him," Kairon said, raising his hand like a student caught cheating.
Varn turned his head so slowly it was almost threatening. "You… hired a jester… to farm."
"Correction," Kairon said, holding up a finger. "I hired a jester with a background in interpretive agriculture."
"Why would you hire a jester?"
"Can a jester do stunts?"
"..yes?"
"Can a jester do multiple functions without getting tired easily?"
"...I guess so?"
"Is a jester expensive to hire?"
"...No!" Varn's expression lighted up at the realisation.
"Exactly," Kairon declared, snapping his fingers. "Efficient. Entertaining. Economical. He's the ultimate farmhand."
"I prefer the term Agri-performer," the jester added with a bow so dramatic it nearly knocked his hat off.
Varn stared at him. "What's your name, anyway?"
The jester straightened. "People call me Jig."
"Is that your real name?"
"No."
Varn waited.
Jig smiled wider. "That's all you get."
Elira shook her head. "I still can't believe he actually planted anything."
Jig reached into his coat and pulled out a tiny notebook titled Crop Log of Destiny™.
"Page one: cabbages planted in a rhythm matching a 3/4 time signature. Page two: mosscorn gently tucked in while humming to them. Page three: I had a heart-to-heart with Gregory."
Varn blinked. "Gregory?"
"The carrot," Jig said with utmost seriousness.
Varn looked over at the Beginner's Luck Mix patch—where a single carrot was growing upward, orange root in the air, defying every known law of nature and nutrition.
The carrot wobbled slightly.
"…Okay, no," Varn muttered. "We are not pretending that's normal."
"He's got stage fright," Jig whispered.
Kairon stepped forward, arms wide. "Do you see what we've built here? A ragtag team. A misfit family. A slightly terrifying crop situation. This is the stuff of legends."
"Or lawsuits," Elira muttered.
"Exactly!" Kairon grinned. "Now, prepare yourselves. The harvest is soon. And when it comes… we eat like kings."
"We don't even know if these are edible," Varn pointed out. "One of them might explode. One of them is watching us. And one of them is literally doing a headstand."
"Wouldn't be the weirdest dinner I've had," Jig said cheerfully.
At that moment, Tuna sneezed again. Loud. Violent. A full patch of Questionable Beans wiggled nervously in response.
Gregory twitched.
Harold, the beanvine, blinked.
Elira sighed. "This farm is cursed."
"No," Kairon said, placing a hand over his chest and smiling with his mouth open "It's charmingly unpredictable."
Varn looked at the sky, as if hoping divine intervention would strike him down. "We're all going to die."