The sun hung low over the final hill, bathing the farmhouse in a warm, golden light. Jacob always found this sight welcoming. May stood on the porch, setting down a heavy wicker basket just as the wagon pulled into the yard.
She offered a vigorous wave. "You are back just in time! I was moments away from putting Caleb in charge of the kitchen."
"The gods preserve us," Arthur said with a flash of mock horror. "We barely survived his last encounter with the stove."
Caleb hopped down from the wagon, his expression stiff and defensive. "I only scorched the bottom a little, Father."
May let out a bright, melodic giggle. "Caleb, you managed to burn stew. I am still not entirely sure how that is even physically possible."
Jacob followed his brother's lead and scrambled down from the seat. He ran toward his mother, throwing his arms wide. "Mooooommmm!"
May leaned down to scoop him up, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Did you miss me, Jacob? Or did you just miss my cooking?"
Jacob didn't answer with words. He simply buried his face in her shoulder and squeezed tight.
May patted his back, lingering in the hug to give him the comforting reassurance he seemed to need after the long day in town. When she finally pulled back, she set him down to inspect his face.
"My brave little boy. You did well helping your father today. Did you see anything exciting in the city?"
Jacob nodded vigorously. He launched into an animated, simplified version of their trip.
He kept the details about Old Thom vague, but his eyes lit up when he pointed back toward the wagon. "Dad brought something huge and metal back with us!"
May looked toward Arthur. He was already signaling a couple of farmhands to help him.
The men grunted as they hoisted a massive iron frame from the wagon bed, carrying it toward the barn with heavy, careful steps.
"That is a hitch for a new plow," May explained, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
"Your father has been grumbling about needing one to speed up the tilling. I expect he will give us a full lecture on it during dinner. For now, don't you have some hungry chickens waiting for you?"
Jacob's face brightened at the mention of his chores. "The chickens! I almost forgot!" He spun around and sprinted toward the coop.
Inside the wire run, Jacob tossed handfuls of grain into the dirt. He watched the birds scramble and cluck in their usual, feathered chaos.
The noise was comforting, and he found that it grounded him in a way the strange magic of the city could not.
That energy still buzzed faintly beneath his skin, but the rhythmic sound of pecking helped drown out the static.
He leaned against a sturdy fence post and watched the sky transition into a deep, bruised orange.
Maybe magic won't change everything, he thought. Maybe I can still just be me, and I can just play with the chickens.
He felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of shaping this new world.
Even if I never learn the high sorcery of the nobles, this is enough. I chose to come here for a reason. I have a family that actually loves me. I need to remember this and focus on the things that actually matter. To feel that... it is a wonderful thing.
Jacob wiped his dusty hands on his trousers. He reached down to give a mottled hen a gentle scratch behind the neck as she pecked at his boots. "Good girl," he whispered. "I expect plenty of eggs tomorrow."
The hen let out a curious chirp and wandered off, completely indifferent to his magical potential.
Jacob felt a strange affinity for the birds. It was a feeling that had grown stronger as his mana developed. It wasn't an overly complex thought. They simply fed into his feeling of home.
He stood up and stretched, noticing the smell of woodsmoke and savory meat drifting from the house. Mom must have the beef stew going. I can almost taste those sweet carrots already.
His stomach let out a low, insistent grumble. He started back toward the house but stopped when he saw his father leaning against the barn door. Arthur was clearly waiting for him.
"Have you gotten the chickens all settled?" Arthur asked, his smile reaching his eyes.
Jacob nodded as he approached. "I got them all fed and ruffled. Most of them returned to the coop for the night."
Arthur reached out and ruffled Jacob's hair. "Good lad. After dinner, we will find time to practice a few inscriptions. But first, let me show you this plow frame."
He pulled the heavy barn door open, beckoning Jacob inside. The metal frame they had brought from the forge sat propped up on wooden struts in the center of the floor. To Jacob's modern memory, it looked like a heavy, archaic piece of equipment.
"This iron is incredibly dense," Arthur explained, his voice tinged with a familiar longing. "It causes the oxen to tire far too quickly. Imagine how much more ground we could cover if we could make this piece lighter without sacrificing its strength or the work it can put into the field."
Jacob stared at the iron. He could already see the potential. He remembered his old days of strategy games and virtual farms, but the equipment here was a bottleneck for their survival. This equipment was not what he would want to be using himself.
Nevertheless, he could envision what his father was saying. They needed to inscribe it with the strengthening runes while also using a new rune or set of runes that allowed it to be lighter, somehow.
Before he could get too lost in thought, Arthur started explaining things to him.
"My grandfather found a way to weave those two concepts together," Arthur continued, placing a hand on the cold metal. "The issue has always been the power required. Even with the finest tuning, we have never been able to shed more than a few kilograms of weight."
He looked at Jacob with a serious, expectant expression. "Our current tools are holding us back. We have fertile land that sits idle because we simply cannot work the soil fast enough."