The rolling hills of Ruvka offered a deception of scale, hiding the jagged, snow-capped peaks to the north until the wagon reached the crest of the final rise.
Jacob gripped the rough wooden side of the transport as the vista finally revealed itself, the distant mountains standing like white-crowned sentinels against a pale blue sky.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, marveling at how the village seemed to be cradled by the landscape rather than merely built upon it.
'Wow, what a beautiful place. The village is well in order, but that view is simply amazing!'
The wagon trundled along, quickly making its way into the village with the single brown horse pulling it along with Jacob, as well as his father and his brother riding in it.
The village itself appeared well-tended, centered around a large stone well that served as the heart of the community.
Most of the houses were constructed from heavy timber with thick layers of thatch for roofing, though the structures became smaller and more weathered as they moved toward the outskirts.
Arthur steered the horse toward a cluster of stalls that stood empty in the morning light, though the smell of woodsmoke and damp earth told of a community that was already wide awake.
They made several stops along the gravel paths, with Jacob and Caleb working together to hoist sacks of grain and crates of root vegetables for the local baker and the tavern keeper.
Each time a delivery was completed, Arthur engaged in an exchange of copper coins, his eyes sharp as he tallied the earnings in a small notebook.
By the time the sun had climbed toward its midpoint, the wagon was nearly empty, save for a small wooden box tucked securely under Jacob's seat.
"We have one more stop to make before we head back to the farm," Arthur said, turning the horse toward a narrow lane that led away from the village center.
They approached a house that looked entirely unremarkable from the outside, its garden overgrown with weeds that seemed to pulse with a faint, unnatural vitality.
"Now, boys, I want you to pay close attention to how I handle this. The man inside is named Mister Thom, and he is the only person in Ruvka who cares for the sort of oddities that most of us find useless. He's a bit different from the merchants at the square, so keep your wits about you."
Then Arthur handed the box to Jacob before leading the way to the heavy oak door. When he knocked, the sound was muffled, as if the wood were much thicker than it appeared.
The door creaked open slowly, and Arthur motioned for them to step into the dim interior.
Arthur spared the boys a glance and could see their nervousness at the new and unfamiliar place.
"Don't look so frightened," Arthur whispered, noticing the way Jacob's shoulders had tensed and Caleb had a bit of sweat on his brow. "We are here as guests, and Thom is a man of his word, even if his word is often strange."
Old Thom greeted them as they entered.
"So, you have returned to my parlor, Arthur Hemlock. And it seems you have brought the munchakins with ya?"
The boy's eyes went wide when they entered the house. It was dark and gloomy, with white candlelight illuminating many shelves with curious trinkets on each one.
Each shelf was lined with bones and ended in skulls, causing them to glow a brilliant white, illuminating the contents of each shelf. They seemed to contain items of a similar theme, though Jacob did not give each shelf a long enough glance to know what the theme of each shelf was.
He did notice something else, which pulled his attention from the glowing white shelves.
He looked up and thought about what he was seeing.
'It is much bigger inside of here than outside. And the view from that window does not match our village, did we teleport to some sort of central hub?'
Looking up, Jacob was able to count three stories. At least.
Arthur replied to the old man.
"Good morning, Thom," Arthur replied, his voice steady despite the oppressive atmosphere. "You told me once to bring you anything that carried the scent of the unusual, and I believe my son has managed to create something that fits your criteria."
Old Thom was eyeing Jacob at this point, noting his reaction in contrast with his older brother.
'Hmm, the older one seems to be focused on the items, which I can hardly blame the young chap. I love these items as well. But that young one, who has not even activated the system, he has likely figured out what happened when they stepped through the gateway. Which should be impossible, unless... '
The old man reached out with his magic and gently brushed against the power of the young boy. What he felt was something highly unlikely. But it was right there in front of him.
'Power at the level of an initial wizard before unlocking his system. Did this farmer bed the queen or something?'
Old Thom hummed with a deep thinking tone.
"Hmmm, it is something this boy has created. The one with the box?"
Arthur was a bit surprised initially, but shook his head to clear his surprise.
"Oh, um, yes. This is Jacob. He has managed to create something I think you will find interesting."
Old Thom nodded.
"Well then, boy, let's see it!"
He beckoned toward Jacob, who shuffled toward the old man with uncertainty.
Jacob opened the wooden box containing his first creation and looked up at the old man, who seemed more interested in him rather than in his shovel.
Old Thom reached into the box and grabbed the unassuming shovel, and turned it over. His eyes began to slightly glow in a blue hue as he used his power to observe the shovel more closely.
What the old man could see shocked him.
'This shovel is at least a rare item, but the material is only mundane. The enchantment alone brings that up to the uncommon level. Then, this sharpness, it could be used as a weapon against a dungeon boss for a rank E dungeon. Possible as an expendable weapon in a rank D dungeon. That is insane!'
It was a crude piece of work in terms of aesthetics, yet the functional power behind it was staggering for an amateur.
Old Thom then looked at the young man before him. Someone with an impossible amount of power for their age, and the control needed to harness it.
'Good thing spells aren't exactly easy to happen upon or learn without guidance. The gods help us if this young man ends up with any sort of magical class when he becomes of age.'
The old man smiled.
'What an interesting thing to come from a backwater.'
"Arthur, do you even realize what you have here?"
Arthur was a bit taken aback.
"Uh, it seems to be a weapon my son made on accident. I was sure it could get a good price... "
Old Thom shook his head, understanding the farmer had no idea what he had brought the old man.
He reached over his counter and produced three items. One was a sack filled with coins. Another was one of the etching tools that was used in the inscription process that created the shovel dagger.
The third one was an actual dagger, though it lacked any enchantments.