The next morning, the plough moved like a dream.
Jacob watched from the fence as Arthur guided the young ox across the field. The blade cut clean through the soil, light enough that the ox barely strained, yet heavy enough to turn the earth without bouncing. It worked exactly the way he imagined.
Arthur waved from the far end of the row. "You nailed it! This thing's going to cut our fieldwork in half!"
Jacob beamed. There was no stopping him after that.
For the rest of the week, he enchanted every other plough on the farm. Some were older, some newer, but each got the same careful attention. Strengthening runes across the core, lightness runes to take the burden off the oxen.
Nothing exploded, and each enchantment became easier than the previous one.
By midweek, Arthur stopped hovering. He just left the tools stacked near the barn with a note that read, "When you've got time."
Jacob got them all done and still had not figured out a daily limit to his enchanting ability.
With the farm tools finished, May handed him a small pile of freshly sewn clothes.
"Thought you might want something new for the festival," she said, brushing a bit of feather off his shoulder.
Jacob turned the fabric over in his hands. He had new tunics, trousers, and a light jacket stitched from a heavier weave. Each one had space for runes along the hems and cuffs.
She didn't even have to say it out loud; Jacob knew what she intended for him to do with these.
He spent the next couple of days carefully enchanting the set. A little comfort here. A bit of cleaning there. One of the tunics even got a lightness enchantment.
'Not that it needs it, but it gives the fabric a soft, floaty feel that makes it perfect for showing off . . .'
By the time the sun dipped low on the last evening, the house was buzzing with quiet excitement. Caleb had helped string lanterns near the road, and Arthur came in late, smelling of firewood and smoke from the village bonfires.
Jacob looked over his clothes one last time, folded them neatly, and set them out by the door.
'Tomorrow, the festival will begin . . .'
And after it, his Trial Year. He could feel the excitement building up in his bones, working its way from his toes to his chest.
'I don't really remember the previous festivals, I wonder how it will go . . . and why did they even mention that I should show off my enchanting skills in the first place? I hope the villagers don't try to string me up as a witch . . . gah! I am sure my dad would have mentioned something like that if it could happen!'
He slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning. He even woke up several times to get a glass of water, seeing Caleb up for the same a couple of times.
In the morning, Jacob sat up slowly, rubbing his face and trying to shake off the lingering haze from a night of broken sleep.
He dressed with care, pulling on the freshly enchanted clothes. The tunic practically floated over his shoulders. The trousers felt like they had been worn for years. His boots, scuffed but solid, had been touched up with a potent enchantment of comfort.
The kitchen was already busy when he walked in. His mother was moving freshly cooked plates of food to the dining room while carrying his younger sister.
May turned from the hearth with a plate of festival bread, its braided surface glazed and steaming. Arthur was dressed in clean work clothes, evidently home from a busy early morning to help prepare the festival in the village. Caleb was already halfway through his food, clearly in a hurry to get going.
"Eat up, boys," May said, setting another plate down for Jacob. "The village square will be full by the time we get there."
Jacob sat and tore into the bread, savoring the hint of honey baked into the dough. They ate without much talking, just the clatter of plates and the occasional laugh from Caleb as he teased Jacob about "finally looking presentable."
After breakfast, they loaded a small cart with jars of pickled vegetables, bundles of herbs, and a few loaves of bread for trading. May handed Arthur a list, then pulled Jacob aside.
"Let people see your clothes," she said with a wink. "Let them ask questions. You don't have to explain everything, just be polite and let them see what you've done."
Jacob nodded, heart thumping a little faster.
The walk into the village took longer than usual. Not because of distance, but because nearly every family was on the road doing the same. Children ran ahead with woven baskets. Older villagers strolled in small groups, chatting about the weather, the crops, and which vendors were returning this year.
By the time they reached the square, the festival was already in full swing.
Booths lined the roads with colorful fabric stretched overhead. Musicians were tuning their instruments near the center, and the smell of roasting meat, candied nuts, and fresh pastries filled the air.
Jacob stuck close to his family at first, helping set up their own stall. May laid out her goods while Arthur handled the trade board. Caleb had already wandered off toward the games, laughing with a group of boys his age.
Jacob leaned against the stall, watching the crowd with wide eyes.
People were already looking. Not staring, but watching.
'Now is as good a time as ever . . .' Jacob thought before wiping his greasy hands on his pants. The stain was evident, as he had been keeping his hands dirty on purpose.
The people watching him walked over, some around his age and a couple of adults.
One old man, in particular, spoke up.
"Young man, it seems you are wandering around here alone. I should let you know that ruining your clothes like that will make your mother quite upset. I am sure she put a lot of work into those clothes."
They couldn't see the enchantments due to the way the runes disappear when the fully enchanted runes take hold and empower the objects they are inscribed on. But, soon, that didn't matter.
"They aren't ruined," Jacob replied to the old man.
The old man then looked back down at his pants as he prepared to explain Jacob's mistake to him, but realized that the stains were gone.