Jacob turned back toward the road, his eyes following the dirt tracks that led out of the village and into the wide fields beyond.
If the fields were strong, the family would be strong. And if the family was strong, he could leverage that to his advantage.
He had no illusions about his future. Enchantments were useful, sometimes even impressive, but land was reliable. No matter what came next, food would always matter. A strong harvest meant trade. Trade meant influence. Influence meant options.
He adjusted the weight of his satchel, the seed packets inside shifting with a soft rustle. Hardy grains. Root vegetables. A few strange seeds the merchant had simply called "worth a try." He had not picked them for taste or yield. He picked them to learn. Different seeds might behave differently in the corners of their soil that had long been left alone.
Behind him, the village was quiet again. The festival was packed away, and the streets returned to routine. Even Sera had slipped off with a wave, her arms full of chores waiting at her grandmother's house.
He wasn't chasing magic or gold. Not today. Today, he was starting with the soil.
Jacob reached the edge of the property just as the sun broke through a patch of thin clouds. The light hit the tall grasses that had gone to seed, turning them pale gold as they waved in the breeze.
He didn't head straight for the house. Instead, he cut along the outer edge of the land, where the fence leaned tiredly in spots and brush pressed in from the woods. One of the posts had split near the base and tilted like a drunk trying to stand proud. Jacob noted it and kept walking.
The eastern plot was overgrown. Nothing had been planted there in years. The soil would need turning, the rocks pulled up, and the drainage checked. But the space was good, though he presumed there was a reason for it going untouched.
Near the tool shed, he slowed. The door hung crooked, one hinge rusted out. Inside, shovels and rakes leaned against the wall at odd angles. Some handles were cracked. One hoe had a missing chunk near the blade, the split bound with old twine. He had walked past it a hundred times without thinking. Now he looked at it the way a smith might look at raw iron.
The more he saw, the more it settled in: they didn't need more land, or more help, or more coin.
'We just need to modernize this place up a bit . . . increase the efficiency.'
Jacob waited until after supper. The plates had been cleared, and May was humming softly as she washed them in the basin. Caleb had gone out back to check on the chickens, the screen door still creaking behind him.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, sipping the last of his tea, one hand absently rubbing at his shoulder.
"I've been thinking," Jacob said, keeping his voice even.
Arthur gave a tired grunt. "That's usually when trouble starts."
Jacob smirked, then sat down across from him. "Not that kind. It's just . . . the land. How we use it, how we work it. Our tools are simple; they require so much effort, even with the enchantments that are currently present."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, but not in a harsh way. He was listening.
"I know I've been working on enchantments. Most of it's been just practice, but I think some of it's ready for real use . . . Not to sell, I don't think people around here are ready for that. Not yet, at least. But us?"
Arthur didn't speak, so Jacob kept going.
"I walked the whole property today. There's land we're not using. Tools we've patched so many times that they don't even fit right in your hand. I think I can fix that. Or improve it, at least. Little things . . . reinforce the hoe, lighten the seed bags, make the plough glide smoother. Just enough to ease the burden . . . for now."
Arthur set the cup down. "You're talking about enchanting farm tools."
"I'm talking about making what we already have work better," Jacob said. "If it saves even one hour a day, it adds up."
Arthur looked past him, out the window toward the barn. He was quiet for a while.
"When I was your age, we worked more land than we do now," he said finally. "Used to plant right up to the creek bed. But things break. Oxen age. And without extra hands, you start cutting corners."
He reached up and rubbed his jaw.
"We've always done the best we could with what we had," Arthur continued. "But I'll admit, lately, it feels like we're running to stand still."
Jacob didn't interrupt. He knew better.
Arthur's gaze came back to him, steady and clear. "You think you can make it easier?"
"I can try."
Arthur nodded once. "Then try. But don't go burning yourself out over it. We still need you in one piece."
Jacob gave a small smile. That was permission, even if it didn't sound like it.
"What happened to the eastern plot?" Jacob asked. "The one past the shed. It looks ready for tillage, but nothing's been done with it."
Arthur didn't answer right away. He looked into his cup like he was checking for more tea, then set it down.
"We gave up on that patch years ago," he said. "Used to plant there every season. Turnips, onions, and even tried barley once."
"What happened?"
Arthur shrugged. "Wouldn't grow worth a damn. Everything came up stunted or sick. No matter what we tried. May worked the soil, I cleared the rocks, and your uncle even brought in compost from Thornhold once. Nothing made a difference. Just bad dirt, far as I can tell."
Jacob nodded slowly. "Mind if I use it?"
Arthur gave him a curious look. "For what?"
"Experiments," Jacob said. "Seed trials . . . maybe a few enchantments if I can spare the time. I don't expect anything from it. It just seems like a good place to fail without wasting anything."
Arthur's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, then he gave a quiet grunt. "If you can get something to grow there, I'll eat my boots."
"Hope they're soft," Jacob said.
Arthur snorted and waved him off. "It's yours. Just don't go making a mess too close to the fence line. Remember that this time is yours; there is no need to rush toward this profession so soon. Have fun and try out something new."
Jacob smiled up at his father. "I know, Dad, but this is something I have been thinking about. The enchantments . . . I can't seem to get anyone to look at them further. My initial contact with Gerald seems to be the extent of my trade for now. But the Farm? Our family? I think that is something worth investing in."
This caused Arthur to smile widely. "Well then, son, you can get on with your experiments as you like. Let me know if you can actually grow anything there, and I can give you a few pointers."
Jacob walked forward to hug his father before running off.
Thinking to himself, he mused, 'If anyone is going to give any pointers around here, it will be me. For too long have I been messing with magic when I should have been doing what I am good at. Farming . . .'