"You did what?"
Arthur steered the wagon with a steady hand, keeping the horse true to the main path leading toward Thornhold. Jacob had just finished explaining the breakthrough he achieved with the sword back at the forge.
"I said I managed to get three enchantments onto the blade yesterday before dinner," Jacob repeated.
Arthur blinked and stole a quick glance at his son before returning his focus to the road ahead. "You stacked three working enchantments onto a single piece of steel?"
"I put targeting as the base and sharpness along the edge," Jacob replied. "Strengthening went across the spine. They did not fight each other. Instead, they resonated. It felt like they were made to exist together, almost like they were telling me where the power needed to go. The runes formed a bridge that allowed the energy to feed from one into the next."
Arthur shook his head and muttered a quiet word that could have been a prayer or a curse. "And the steel held?"
Jacob nodded. "It gave off a solid hum. It felt like the plough did, only the sensation was much stronger."
Arthur let out a low whistle. "Jacob, do you understand the implications of this?"
"It worked," Jake said, a clear look of pride on his face. "That is all I need to know for the moment."
Arthur did not argue. He kept quiet for a long while after that, his eyes fixed on the path and his hands steady on the reins. Inside, his mind was a storm of possibilities.
He found himself wondering what would happen if someone from their family actually managed to claim a class as an enchanter or a mage. Though he was uncertain how to even accomplish that, as he had never even received a system skill for enchanting.
The trees began to thin as the hills leveled out into a broad valley. The road widened to accommodate the growing number of travelers. Carts driven by merchants, solitary riders, a peddler hauling herbs, and a weary donkey pulling a sled all shared the path at their own pace.
Arthur finally broke the silence. "Thornhold is a different world from Ruvka. It is louder, busier, more crowded, and far more complicated. The city runs on trade. They demand quality there. If you have something special, people will pay for it."
Jake leaned back in the hard wooden seat. "So I just need to let them see the work."
"Let the work speak," Arthur advised. "Do not oversell it. If someone asks what the enchantments do, tell them the truth. If they try to measure your worth, let them reach their own conclusions. You don't need to convince anyone of anything."
They crested a rise in the road, and the city appeared. Thornhold was a rugged place built along a bend in a slow, dark river. Stone walls protected the inner ring, while smoke and sprawl indicated a massive population living beyond the primary defenses. Markets were visible even from a distance, with tents and canopies crowded tight against the outer wall.
The gates stood open, though guards stopped every wagon to check the cargo. Arthur reached into his side pouch and held up his medallion as they approached. The guards gave it a cursory look, nodded, and waved them through without a word.
As the wagon wheels hit the cobblestones, the city hit Jacob's senses. He smelled fresh bread, cooling metal, woodsmoke, and the lingering scent of unfamiliar spices. The air was thick with the sounds of shouting, laughter, a baby crying, barking dogs, and the distant ringing of bells. Thornhold felt alive in a way that Ruvka never did.
Arthur steered them past the gate and down a wide road that eventually split into three narrower paths. Most of the carts peeled off to the sides, but Arthur stuck to the center.
"The market square is just ahead," he said, adjusting the leather reins. "We will grab a corner spot if we can. I don't plan to stay all day, just long enough to see what kind of interest your work stirs up."
They passed stalls offering fish on ice, woven baskets, dyed fabrics, and thick stacks of lumber. A woman cried out the price of her pickled onions while a man nearby chased a runaway goat through the crowd. Jacob kept turning his head, trying to take in the tall buildings with their wooden balconies and painted shutters.
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," Arthur said.
Jake hopped down and started helping unload the bundles. Arthur passed him a folded cloth banner to lay across the front of the cart. Arthur's own goods were simple and included things like dried herbs, root vegetables, some grain, and a large jar of pickled onions that looked much like the ones the woman had been shouting about earlier.
Jacob placed the sack of enchanted clothes at the very front edge. Arthur adjusted a tunic so the sunlight caught the thread just right.
"Now," Arthur said. "We wait."
It did not take long for someone to notice. A man with a walking cane paused as he passed, then turned back and tapped a vest with the tip of his stick.
"Does not look like much," the man remarked, eyeing the stitchwork. "But it feels odd. Something about it is out of place, though I cannot quite say what it is."
Arthur gestured toward his son. "My son made those. They are enchanted to be self-cleaning. They are also lighter and more durable than standard cloth."
The man scoffed, but his curiosity won out. He picked up the vest and ran a thumb along the seam. "Magic? Well, my daughter lives out past the ridge road and is always complaining about the laundry. I suppose this might quiet her down. How much?"
"Forty silvers," Jacob answered quickly.
The man paused, then handed over the coins without a word of protest. He stuffed the vest into his pack and limped off into the crowd. Arthur did not say anything, but Jacob caught the small smile tugging at the corner of his father's mouth.
"It seems you can handle the trade here," Arthur said. "I need to deliver this meat before it spoils in the sun. Are you comfortable staying here by yourself for a while?"
Arthur looked at Jacob, waiting for him to decide if he was ready to take this step toward his own independence.