That night, Jake slept like a rock. One moment he was closing his eyes, the next moment he was opening them, feeling fully refreshed. He stretched, pulled on some clothes, and made his way to the dining room for breakfast.
May served up a quick breakfast of warm bread with a smear of jam, and eggs that still steamed on the plate. Arthur and Caleb talked casually about the weather and a neighbor's busted cart axle, while Jacob listened in quiet thought.
He headed outside after breakfast, as usual. The coop was already full of noise with clucking hens and flapping wings that greeted him like a flock of feathery roommates.
While feeding and checking the coop, Jacob's mind drifted.
'It's weird. I've helped enchant nearly every tool in the barn by now, but I haven't even touched the fields. I don't know what we grow . . . Wheat? Corn? It's not like I've ever been told.'
He crouched beside a hen who had started nesting near the edge of the fence, scratching gently behind her wing.
'Dad and Caleb spend so much time in the fields, or with the animals, and I'm always stuck with the chickens. Sure, I can use magic, but am I really helping the farm?'
He let the thought settle in as he finished his chores.
After lunch, Arthur surprised him.
"Finish up and grab your things," he said, already heading toward the door with a bit of pep in his step.
Jacob didn't need to be told twice.
They crossed the yard and stepped into the barn, the big plough still sitting in its place from before. This time, Arthur didn't walk past it.
Instead, he set the oil lamp down beside it and gave Jacob a nod.
"It's time."
Jacob observed the tool. It looked heavy and powerful. And very much waiting to be utilized for its intended purpose.
He stepped forward and knelt beside it.
As he prepped his tools, Arthur sat nearby and spoke quietly.
"If you enchant it like last time, whatever you visualised, it will work as long as you channel just a bit more magical power. We don't need it to be capable of flight, just enough to take the burden off of our field Ox. The one we have ready for this plough is still young, so a lighter plough will be perfect for him."
Jacob gave a single nod and ran his fingers along the thick metal beam, feeling the weight of the moment more than the weight of the steel.
'I can do this, it's not even that much bigger than the piece for the mill.'
He started slow, laying down the strengthening runes across the central frame. Each rune was quickly and perfectly inscribed on the metal, leaving a glowing mark as the enchantment took shape.
The lightness runes came second. He pictured a hydraulic system again, one strong enough to lift tons with a simple push. He imagined that force providing leverage, easing the weight, shifting the load so the young ox wouldn't have to strain.
The array was larger than any he had done before, and he could feel the magic flowing more freely than usual. Not wildly, just naturally. It was like it had learned his desires and flowed in vast amounts in the way he needed it.
When the last rune locked into place, a low hum passed through the plough. The glow built slowly, filling each carved mark with soft amber light, then fading as the energy was absorbed fully.
Arthur stood and walked over, placing a hand on the tool. He gave it a small tug, partially lifting one side off the ground, then smiled.
"That'll do. You could hitch this thing to a goat now and still get a day's work done."
Jacob cracked a smile, feeling pride rise up in his chest.
They stood there for a moment, both just looking at it.
After a moment, Jacob broke the silence. "Hey, Dad . . . why haven't I gotten to help with the fields yet? I mean, I've enchanted almost every tool we've got. But I still don't know what crops we grow, or how we even work them."
Arthur gave a slow nod, as if he had been expecting the question for a while now.
"That's fair to ask," he said. "You're old enough now to hear the real reason. It's not about keeping you from the fields, Jacob. It's about giving you something more important."
He turned and leaned back against the barn post, arms folding across his chest.
"When a child in our village turns eleven, they get a free year. No chores, no duties, no pressure. It's called the Trial Year. Time to explore the village and beyond. To figure out what kind of life they want to lead, not just the one they're born into."
Jacob blinked. "So I'm . . . about to be free to just do whatever?"
Arthur chuckled. "More or less. You'll still have to be respectful, and you can't run off and join a band of highwaymen. But yes, you'll have the space to learn, to help who you want, to explore what calls to you. It's a tradition that goes back farther than I can name. Everyone gets their Trial Year."
Jacob looked back at the plough, the lines of his enchantment still faintly glowing.
"And then what happens at twelve?"
Arthur pushed off the beam and walked over, resting a hand on Jacob's shoulder.
"At twelve, you come back with a clearer head and a sense of what you're meant for. Then you get your role, officially. Maybe it's farming. Maybe it's enchanting. Or maybe it's something none of us has a name for yet . . ."
Jacob couldn't help but sense something was being said here that went over his head.
Arthur gave Jacob's shoulder a squeeze.
"You're almost there, son. Next week is the festival, then you will turn eleven. And after what you've already done, I've got no doubt your Trial Year is going to shake a few things loose around here."
Jacob grinned.
"Can I still hang out with the chickens?"
Arthur laughed. "If you want to. But something tells me your magic won't be terrorizing the coop much longer."
Jacob blushed.
"You knew?"
Arthur just smiled.
"Nothing happens on my farm without me knowing."