That Time I Turned My Farm Into A Dungeon II: A Progression Farming Fantasy by Archer S. A

Author:Archer, S. A.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

12

“Oh, my gods, who the hell are you people?”

It hadn’t even been two weeks since I dealt with Baron Barumpsch, Vincent Garl, and all the demons, and I found a fresh new hell at my front gates. Namely, another adventurer on my doorstep. A whole party of them, in fact, the classic five-man band. From the looks of it, we had a knight in some chainmail, an archer wearing green, a fluffy minstrel in a big hat, a dark cloak with a single hand sticking out for a dagger, and a buff guy in a fur speedo.

I already hated all of them.

It didn’t help that they’d brought a whole shitton of people with them. Literally hundreds of men, women, children, and horses, all of them bringing along carts, boxes, baskets, and bags. Why were they here? What did they want with me? Why did they have to come so goddamn early in the morning? I was practically strapping on the last few bits of my armor before I’d come to the wall to greet all of these new people before me.

From among the masses of the common folk, a human stepped forth, dressed about as normally as any person could have been. Probably just a touch better than when I did as a farmer, given that his tunic and trousers weren’t falling apart at the seams.

“My lord, we have come to--”

“Excuse me, what the fuck?” The fluffy minstrel glared at the man as if he’d just taken a shit on a child’s food. “Didn’t I tell you that I’d be handling these negotiations? I’m the one with the high charisma. You’re just a peasant. You don’t talk. I do. You’ll just fuck everything up.”

“S-sorry.” The man retreated back into the crowd of people. “Please, go on.”

“Hello, there, great lord!” The minstrel put on airs as he turned to face me up at the battlement, pulling out the lute on his back and plucking the strings on it as he spoke. “As we were telling your lovely troll guards here, we are the Ironblood Legends! We’re an adventuring party on a quest. My name is Handsome Dashington, the face of the party. Over here, we have Rakthar Crushbone wearing fur underwear. Then there’s Tyrion Drakebane, the knight-in-training. Behind him, there’s Stealin’ Cowl, one of the world’s best archers. The guy in the cloak is--”

I stopped him before I had to hear about more adventurers. “Couldn’t give less of a fuck about them. What do you want, and why did you bring all of these people here?”

The bard looked down at his lute nervously, adjusting the knobs on it as he plucked away. As he made his adjustments, he kept looking back at me as if I was supposed to respond to it. I mean, he wasn’t even playing anything coherent. It wasn’t a song, more just a random jumble of notes thrown together.

“Okay, straight to the point!” Dashington tried his best not to show his distaste for my interruption or my lack of reaction to his lute.

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