The rune was simple enough, just a couple of tricky details that Jacob had no trouble getting down with his magically enhanced mind.
Arthur was once again blown away by the talent of his son, but he had to get back to work and left Jake to his own devices.
"When can we go get the medallion, though?" Jake asked his father.
Arthur replied. "Honestly, you should be able to get it from him yourself while I finish up my work here, but if you want me to, I can go with you later."
"I think I can handle it," Jake said with a resolute look in his eye.
Arthur patted his son's head as he passed him through the barn doors.
"You're growing up too fast, son, it's not fair . . ."
Jacob watched his father walk back toward the fields. He could feel the familiar rhythm of the day settling back in around the farm.
He turned toward the house, wiping his hands on his tunic. The targeting rune was etched cleanly into the dagger now, with the strengthening rune as its base. There was a nearly imperceptible sheen to it, a faint white glow that just looked like the blade was extra shiny in the sunlight.
He tucked the blade into the sheath and headed down the path toward the village center.
The elder's house sat at the far end, near the oldest well. It was one of the few buildings in Ruvka made of stone instead of wood, though moss had crept up its base over the years. The roof was sloped steeply and lined with carved wooden shingles, each etched with a different symbol. Some were runes. Others were just old village marks.
Jacob stepped up to the door and knocked.
After a few moments, it creaked open. A thin man with sunken eyes and a long braid looked out.
"Hmm. You must be Arthur's boy. Jacob, right?"
"Yes, sir. I'm here for the medallion."
The elder nodded and stepped aside. "Come in, come in."
Inside, the house was cramped but orderly. Shelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls, bone tokens, glass jars with dried herbs, and little bits of polished stone. A fire crackled low in a hearth to the side.
The elder moved to a narrow table and pulled out a wooden box. From it, he lifted a chain with a flat metal medallion, stamped with the mark of Ruvka, which showed a curved plough surrounded by three stalks of grain.
"Normally I'd give a speech," he said, eyeing Jacob. "But I have a feeling you've already had enough of those already."
Jacob smiled slightly.
The elder handed him the medallion.
"This says you are a free-roaming youth of Ruvka, trusted by your family and the village to travel alone. It grants you the protection of the city guard under the agricultural decree. You can buy, sell, or speak on behalf of your household. Just don't abuse it, young man."
"I won't elder."
"Good. And if you lose it, don't come crying to me. It'll cost you to get another."
Jacob nodded and slipped it around his neck.
As he turned to leave, the elder added, "Be careful in Thornhold. Cities are full of clever people who think the rest of us are stupid."
Jacob smiled back at the old man. "I'll remember that."
He stepped back into the daylight, the medallion displayed on his chest as he headed towards the farm to enchant the sword.
Jacob didn't head home. He went straight to the barn.
He set the sword out across the workbench and stood over it for a moment.
The blade was plain. Serviceable. But now, with what he had learned and what he had just received, it felt like there could be more. Like he was ready to make it more.
He ran his fingers along the length of the blade, tracing where each rune would go. Leaving the details to his instincts, which were screaming at him right now.
Targeting would be the base. Its structure was like a centerline, something to hold the rest in place. It worked best when the other runes followed its lead. Sharpness would flow along the edge, where it can best enact its magic.
And the Strengthening rune? That went on the back spine of the blade, right across from the others, like a counterweight. A bridge from one side to the other. Something to balance the magical powers of the other two runes, channel them into the durability of the blade.
He started the inscription process.
Each line flowed into the next, the sequence clear in his mind. Not just shapes and slashes anymore, but meaning. Purpose.
Targeting held the structure, anchoring the enchantment. Sharpness sharpened more than just the blade . . . it defined its reach. Strengthening didn't just make it tougher. It gave the enchantment endurance, making the whole thing last longer, making it hold everything together.
The visualizations for sharpness and strengthening were the ones he had developed previously. They worked well for this type of item. The targeting runes, though, were a work in progress. The best thing he could come up with was a robot that could selectively sort oranges he had seen on the TV on Earth.
'Those things were able to target exactly what they needed to in fractions of a second while avoiding the things that were unnecessary. Hopefully magic can be even better than that . . .'
With a burst of immense magical power for each rune inscribed, the new enchantment was soon completed.
The metal shimmered faintly when he finished the last stroke.
No sparks. No noise. No excessive glowing. Just a hum beneath his fingers. A resonance.
Jacob lifted the blade slowly, watching how the light caught along the etched runes.
'This works . . . they belong together.'
He tested the swing. The sword felt lighter, but not hollow. Like it wanted to move . . . or it knew where it was supposed to go. A fly that had been passing by was sliced in half, Jacob not even realizing it was there until it was dead.
He placed the sword down carefully, then sat on the bench next to the worktable, breathing out slowly.
This was only the second time anyone in his family had created a three-rune enchantment.
And it felt right.
With the sword finished, he packed it up and headed inside for dinner before getting to bed.
As he lay in his bed, the darkness filling his room, he couldn't help but think.
'Tomorrow . . . we head to Thornhold . . .'