Several weeks later.
The village square.
Today, villagers from several surrounding settlements flocked to the square from all directions. Some had even traveled from over a dozen kilometers away to gather here.
The reason these villagers were willing to travel such distances was simple: their respected Father Mikhail was to showcase a new machine developed by his towering apprentice, Perturabo. According to the priest himself, this machine, designed and built by Perturabo, could allow a single person to plow the fields of an entire village.
If any self-proclaimed "inventor" had made such a claim, these simple folk would have dismissed it with a sneer. To a Kislevite farmer, nothing was better suited for tilling the earth than an ox; they trusted only their old beasts.
However, since the words came from the venerable and esteemed Father Mikhail, the villagers' skepticism was tempered with hesitation. Mikhail's decades of service had earned him immense prestige, and the people held a fundamental trust in him.
Now, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Father Mikhail and Perturabo stood at the very center of the square. The two figures, clad in jet-black monk robes, stood out starkly among the villagers dressed in coarse, multicolored homespun clothes.
Yet, if there was anything more eye-catching than the two monks, it was the strangely shaped machine beside them. This apparatus was the very "thing" Mikhail had claimed could replace an ox—the "thing" Perturabo had forged with his own hands.
"Neighbors! This is a machine Abo spent weeks building himself. He has personally assured me that it can pull the heaviest plow and till a high-quality field even in the muddiest black soil!"
"I, Mikhail, put my own reputation on the line today to ask all of you for a chance—a chance for Abo to demonstrate his machine."
Once he was sure enough people had gathered, Mikhail shouted with the utmost sincerity.
Beside him, Perturabo did not join his mentor's plea. Instead, he spent the final moments inspecting his handiwork, hoping to identify and eliminate any remaining issues before the demonstration began.
"Father Mikhail, enough talk! Let your giant apprentice start the show! Whatever happens, we trust you. We know you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart to make our work easier."
"Even if it fails, no one will blame you or Abo!"
"That's right! Even if it fails, we won't hold it against you! Let Abo try!"
A villager called out in response to Mikhail's words, and as soon as one spoke, the others followed suit, their shouts of support echoing through the square.
Seeing the people he had served for so long cheering for him, the white-haired priest felt a surge of complex emotions, caught between tears and a smile.
After a long moment, Mikhail turned to look at Perturabo, needing to ensure his apprentice was ready.
"Abo, are you ready? If so, start your machine and show everyone what it can do."
Mikhail asked cautiously. Through their years together, he had learned that his brilliant apprentice had many eccentricities. One was a profound dislike for being disturbed while immersed in manual work; hence, Mikhail's careful tone.
"Mr. Mikhail, I am prepared. I only await your command."
Perturabo finally spoke, his back still turned as he made final adjustments. His voice was thick with absolute confidence.
"Good. Then it is time to open their eyes."
Hearing that confident reply, the last trace of worry vanished from Mikhail's face. He knew his foster son never spoke such words unless success was a mathematical certainty.
"Now, which neighbor is willing to lend us their heavy plow? This machine needs one to begin the work."
Mikhail looked around at the crowd and asked earnestly.
"Father Mikhail! Here! My house is close, I can bring mine over!"
A villager raised his hand immediately and hurried home with several others to haul the heavy iron plow back to the square.
As the villagers noisily moved the plow, Perturabo silently placed several square-cut blocks of wood into the machine's furnace. It was clear the device relied on burning wood for power.
When the plow arrived, Perturabo lifted the heavy iron implement—which usually required several men to move—and easily hitched it to his machine. He made no move to ask for assistance.
This display of raw strength sent whispers through the crowd. Many began to conclude that the young monk standing before them was no ordinary mortal.
Combined with what Father Mikhail had said about Perturabo's mysterious origins, many villagers felt in their hearts that the boy was a Messiah or an angel sent by the divine to reward the good. This belief silenced any potential derision.
The whispers reached Perturabo's ears, but he ignored the masses whose intellect, in his view, could never catch up to his own. He knew he was no ordinary man. The knowledge inherent in his mind would take these mortals a lifetime to master, yet for him, it was as natural as breathing.
He focused on the controls. He knew he was about to give these people a massive surprise.
Soon, under Perturabo's adjustments, the machine began to roar. The sound spoke of the immense power hidden within its frame. The engine shuddered to life. Without a word, the young monk leaped into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel to control the tractor's direction.
Normally, even with the help of an ox, it would take a Kislevite farmer nearly two or three hours to plow a single acre. Larger fields could take an entire day. This was common knowledge in Kislev—a fact of life as unchangeable as the seasons.
No beast was stronger than an ox, and no one could plow an acre in under two hours—and even that was an ideal scenario. The farmers were stubborn in their experience.
But today, before the astonished eyes of farmers who had worked the soil for generations, the impossible happened. Under Perturabo's guidance, the tractor pulled the heavy plow through the earth, finishing an entire acre in less than half an hour.
Watching the shocked expressions of the villagers, Father Mikhail began to smile. They had succeeded. Perturabo had built a machine more powerful than any beast. Only he and Perturabo knew the hardships they had faced to reach this moment.