Jacob walked around the wagon to see his father. Arthur had just finished up selling some sprouts to a kind old woman and was putting his earnings away.
As Arthur turned to put the money in the pouch he kept on the wagon, he noticed Jake.
"Oh, hey," Arthur began, "how did it go with the clothes? It looks like you lost your sack."
Jacob smiled and replied. "At first, it seemed like no one believed me that the clothes were enchanted, or they might have thought that I stole them. Eventually, I ran into a strange-looking fellow who bought out the lot and asked if he could meet you."
This caused Arthur to scratch his chin in thought.
"I guess you told him that I taught you then, huh?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes, sir. He started off thinking I had stolen the enchanted clothes, so I explained that it was a family trade to enchant our own stuff. He made it seem like it is rare to be able to enchant things."
"Well," Arthur said, "I have never met another person or family that can enchant things. I guess I never really noticed, though. To be honest, we don't really enchant that many things to begin with besides the tools we need."
This caused Jacob to take a pause in thought.
'It makes sense, until now the majority of the tools have stayed on the farm, so people from the village have heard of the enchantments and probably don't think much of it. The people out here, though, they probably associate enchantments with mages or adventurers. Not kids or farmers . . .'
When he was done thinking for a second, he looked to Arthur.
"Do you want to meet the guy? He said he was interested in talking to you, after all."
Arthur shifted his weight and glanced out past the crowd, scanning for anyone who looked out of place. Not realizing that he was waiting behind the wagon, though out of earshot.
"Did he say what he wanted to talk about, exactly?"
Jacob shook his head. "Not really . . . just that he was impressed and curious. I think he might have been a mage from the way he was talking, though he didn't say so outright."
Arthur let out a small breath, partially a sigh but also kind of a grunt. "Could be trouble . . . but probably just a misunderstanding. It's hard to know what a mage might be thinking sometimes."
He finished tying off the pouch and set it behind the seat. "Alright then. Where is he?"
Jacob pointed toward the back of the wagon. "He said he would wait on this side of the cart."
They walked around together and could see the young man standing by himself, waiting to see Arthur. This was the first time that Jacob took a good look at the young man.
He had the appearance of a young man with short black hair and a traveling cloak, standing near a cider cart, sipping from a wooden cup. He had a leather satchel slung over one shoulder, worn from use but carefully patched. His boots were dusty, and his cloak was travel-stained, but his posture was relaxed, eyes scanning the square like he was still taking it all in.
"That's him," Jacob said quietly.
Gerald turned just then, as if he'd heard the words. His gaze landed on Jacob first, then shifted to Arthur. The initial look from the young man was one of reverence, then of shock, and then he looked quite skeptical.
He gave a polite nod, trying his best to hide his facial reactions, and set his cup on the edge of the bench.
"You must be his father," The young man said, stepping forward.
Arthur stopped a few paces away. "And you must be a Mage."
Gerald smiled and said, "Word travels fast around these parts, it seems," while he took an evaluating glance at Jake.
He offered his hand, and Arthur took it, locking his strong farmer's grip on the evidently experienced mage's hand.
The shake was more than a friendly gesture for the mage, though. Through contact with the farmer, he was able to tell that this person was indeed a mundane farmer without even a trace of active magic in his entire body.
"I usually go by Gerald, instead of 'mage' though."
This caused Arthur to crack a grin. "Arthur, Arthur Hemlock." Then he gestured to Jacob. "And you have met my son, Jacob."
Gerald nodded in acknowledgement.
"Well, I will cut to the chase then. I wanted to meet you because your son claims to have enchanted these clothes I purchased from him."
He said as he lightly and briefly lifted the sack.
"And I thought I would be meeting a powerful enchanted, but I can see that the boy is the powerful one, that is, if he is actually making these enchantments."
Arthur almost seemed offended at the implication that his son would lie or steal, but he knew that he needed to keep his composure when talking to a mage.
"My son has indeed enchanted these items with our inscription method . . ."
Before Arthur could continue, Gerald interrupted him.
"Inscription method! Are you saying your method of enchanting is actually with inscriptions!?"
Now, Arthur was a bit shocked.
"Uh, well, yes. We use a method called inscribing, as my grandfather and his father describe it."
Gerald thought to himself briefly. 'Calm down, he could just be confused as to what the names of the different disciplines are . . .'
"Could you," Gerald began, "perhaps show me how you utilized this inscription method?"
With this, Arthur looked at Jacob with a questioning gaze. Jacob considered the request and decided to acquiesce due to the excitement he could see in the mage.
"Sure," Jake began, "do you have something I could enchant? I am fresh out of things suitable for an enchantment."
The mage quickly fished through one of his pouches, bringing out an item that looked like a normal, thin rod. He handed it to Jacob with excitement in his eyes.
Jake looked at it with a frown. "This is a bit small, I'm not sure if I could enchant it?" He ended his answer in a question directed at Arthur."
His father scratched his own head for a second, looking a bit embarrassed.
"I should have mentioned this earlier, but the versatility of inscription allows for you to enchant small objects like this as if they are the size of that trowel you enchanted. Just treat it like the edge of the shovel and do it longways."
Jake looked back at the item in his hands and realized what his father was talking about. Then he pulled out his inscription tool
This caused Gerald's eyes to light up. 'That's it! An inscribing tool! No way could he use another method of enchanting with that thing . . . and it's made of mithril? What hidden master was this kid's great-great-grandpa?'