"You did what!?"
Arthur was steering the wagon, making sure the horse stuck to the main path to Thornhold. Jake had just informed him of the breakthrough with the sword.
"I said I managed to get three enchantments on the sword yesterday before dinner."
Arthur blinked, glanced at him, then looked back at the road. "You stacked three working enchantments onto a single blade?"
"Yeah, targeting as the base, sharpness along the edge, and strengthening across the spine," Jake replied. "They resonated. It felt like they were made to go together, like they told me what to do. The runes formed a kind of bridge, feeding into one another."
Arthur shook his head, muttering something under his breath that might have been a prayer or a curse. "And it held?"
Jacob nodded. "It gave a solid hum. Same feel as the plough. Maybe stronger even."
Arthur let out a low whistle. "Jacob, do you understand what this means?"
"It worked," Jake said, happiness on his face. "That's all I need to know for now."
Arthur didn't argue. He kept quiet for a while after that, eyes fixed on the road, hands steady on the reins.
But his mind was a bit chaotic, with the main thought being, 'What if someone from the family actually manages to get the enchanter or mage class . . .'
The trees thinned, and the hills around them began to level out. The road ahead widened, and more travelers were starting to appear. Merchants with carts, a few riders, a peddler hauling herbs in a sled behind a tired donkey.
Arthur finally spoke again.
"Thornhold's a different place from Ruvka. It's louder, busier, more complicated. But it runs on trade, and it demands quality. If you've got something special, people will pay for it."
Jake leaned back slightly in his seat. "So I just need to let them see it."
Arthur gave him a short nod. "Let the work speak. Don't oversell it. If someone asks what your enchantments do, tell the truth. But if they seem like they want to measure you, let them make up their own minds. You don't need to convince anyone of anything."
They crested a rise in the road, and there it was.
Thornhold.
A rugged city built along the bend of a slow, dark river. Stone walls surrounded the inner ring, but sprawl and smoke hinted at far more beyond the first row of buildings. Markets were visible even from the road, tents and canopies packed tight along the outer wall. The city gates stood open, but two guards checked every wagon that entered.
Arthur didn't slow down much. He reached into a side pouch and pulled out his own medallion, holding it up as they approached.
The guards took one glance, nodded, and waved them through.
The wagon creaked as it crossed onto cobblestones.
Jake sat forward, eyes wide. The smells hit first. Bread baking, metal cooling, people sweating, spices unfamiliar and sharp. Then the sounds hit. It was a cacophony of shouting, laughter, a baby crying, dogs barking, and bells in the distance, along with a mix of many other sounds hard to place.
Thornhold was alive in a way that Ruvka wasn't.
Arthur steered them past the gate and down a wide road that split into three narrower paths. Most of the carts peeled off to the left or right, but Arthur stuck to the center.
"Market square is up ahead," he said, adjusting the reins. "We will grab a corner spot if we can. I do not plan to stay all day, just long enough to see what kind of interest your work stirs up."
They passed stalls selling fish laid out on chipped ice, baskets of woven reeds, dyed fabrics strung between posts, and thick-cut lumber stacked high. A woman shouted about pickled onions while a man chased a runaway goat.
Jake kept turning his head, trying to take it all in. Everything felt sharper, faster. The buildings were taller here, layered with wooden balconies and painted shutters. People moved like they had somewhere to be. There was life in every direction.
They turned into a wide plaza ringed by merchant booths. Arthur guided the wagon toward an open space near a fountain that trickled lazily beside a row of stone benches.
"This will do," he said.
Jake hopped down and started helping unload the bundles and sacks. Arthur passed him a folded cloth banner to lay across the front of the cart.
Arthur's own goods were simple. A few bundles of dried herbs, some root vegetables, and one large jar of pickled onions. This was likely the same recipe the lady was yelling about earlier.
But it was Jake's sack of enchanted clothes that got placed at the front edge.
Arthur adjusted a folded tunic so the sunlight would hit it right.
"Now," he said, "we wait."
It didn't take long.
A man with a walking cane paused as he passed, then turned back and tapped the vest with the end of his cane.
"Doesn't look like much," he said, eyeing the stitchwork. "But it feels wrong. Not bad wrong. Just different."
Arthur nodded at Jake.
"My son makes them. They are enchanted. Self-cleaning, some lighter than normal, some are also more durable."
The man scoffed lightly, but he picked up the vest and ran a thumb along the seam.
"Magic, eh? Well, my daughter lives out past the ridge road, always complaining about laundry. How much?"
Jake answered. "Two silvers."
The man paused, then handed over the coins without a word. He stuffed the vest into his pack and limped off.
Arthur didn't say anything, but Jake caught the corner of a smile.
They were off to a good start.
"It seems like you can handle things here, but I need to deliver some of this meat as soon as possible. Do you feel comfortable here by yourself?"
Arthur looked to Jacob, who had to make the decision to take a step down the path of independence.