Jacob walked around the side of the wagon to find his father. Arthur had just finished selling a batch of sprouts to a kind old woman and was busy putting his earnings away.
As Arthur turned to place the coins into the pouch he kept on the wagon, he noticed his son.
"Oh, hello," Arthur began. "How did it go with the clothes? It looks like you lost your sack."
Jacob smiled as he approached. "At first, it seemed like no one believed the clothes were actually enchanted. Some might have even thought that I stole them. Eventually, I ran into a strange fellow who bought out the entire lot. He asked if he could meet you."
This caused Arthur to scratch his chin in thought. "I suppose you told him that I was the one who taught you?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes, sir. He started off thinking I had stolen the items, so I explained that enchanting is a family trade for us. He made it seem like it is incredibly rare to be able to enchant things at all."
"Well," Arthur said, "I have never met another person or family that can enchant things. I guess I never really noticed that it was unusual. To be honest, we don't enchant many things besides the tools we need for the farm."
Jacob paused for a moment as he considered this. It makes sense, up until this point, the majority of the enchanted tools have stayed on the farm. People from our village had heard of the enchantments but likely did not think much of them. The people out here in the city, however, probably associate enchantments with high-ranking mages or wealthy adventurers. They don't expect such things from children or farmers.
When he finished his thought, he looked back at his Father. "Do you want to meet him? He said he was interested in talking to you."
Arthur shifted his weight and glanced out toward the crowd, scanning for anyone who looked out of place. He did not realize the man was already waiting behind the wagon, just out of earshot.
"Did he say what he wanted to talk about specifically?"
Jacob shook his head. "Not really. He just seemed impressed and curious. I think he might be a mage based on the way he was talking, though he did not say so outright."
Arthur let out a small breath that was part sigh and part grunt. "Could be trouble, though it is probably just a misunderstanding. It is hard to know what a mage might be thinking."
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 saw the young man standing by himself. This was the first time Jacob took a good look at him.
The man had short black hair and wore a traveling cloak. He stood near a cider cart while sipping from a wooden cup. A leather satchel was slung over his shoulder, looking worn from use but carefully patched.
His boots were dusty, yet his posture remained relaxed as his eyes scanned the square.
"That is him," Jacob said quietly.
Gerald turned just then as if he had heard the words. His gaze landed on Jacob first before shifting to Arthur.
The initial look from the young man was one of reverence, which quickly shifted into shock. Finally, his expression became skeptical, and a bit of a scowl took form.
He gave a polite nod, trying his best to hide his reactions, and set his cup on the edge of a bench.
"You must be his father," the young man said as he stepped forward.
Arthur stopped a few paces away. "And you must be a mage."
The man smiled. "Word travels fast around these parts, it seems."
He took an evaluating glance at Jacob. He offered his hand, and Arthur took it, locking a strong farmer's grip onto the hand of the experienced mage.
The shake was more than a friendly gesture for the mage. Through the contact, he was able to tell that Arthur was a mundane farmer without even a trace of active magic in his entire body.
"I usually go by Gerald instead of 'mage' though," Gerald added.
Arthur cracked a grin. "Arthur. Arthur Hemlock." He gestured to his son. "And you have already met Jacob."
Gerald nodded in acknowledgment. "Well, I will cut to the chase. I wanted to meet you because your son claims to have enchanted the clothes I purchased from him."
He briefly lifted the sack. "I thought I would be meeting a powerful enchanter. Instead, I can see that the boy is the powerful one, provided he is actually the one making these enchantments."
Arthur seemed almost offended at the implication that his son would lie, but he kept his composure. "My son has indeed enchanted those items using our inscription method."
Before Arthur could continue, Gerald interrupted him. "Inscription method? Are you saying your method of enchanting is actually based on inscriptions?"
Arthur was visibly shocked by the intensity of the question. "Well, yes. We use a method called inscribing, as my grandfather and his father described it."
Gerald thought to himself for a moment, trying to stay calm. He wondered if the man was simply confused about the names of different magical disciplines. "Could you perhaps show me how you utilized this inscription method?"
Arthur looked at Jacob with a questioning gaze. Jacob considered the request and decided to agree because of the excitement he could see in the mage's eyes.
"Sure," Jacob began. "Do you have something I could enchant? I am fresh out of items suitable for a new enchantment."
The mage quickly fished through one of his pouches and brought out a thin metal rod. He handed it to the boy with anticipation.
Jacob looked at the object with a frown. "This is a bit small. I am not sure if I can enchant something of this size." He looked to Arthur for guidance.
His father scratched his head and looked a bit embarrassed. "I should have mentioned this earlier. The versatility of inscription allows you to enchant small objects as if they were the size of that trowel you worked on. Just treat it like the edge of the shovel and work longways."
Jacob looked back at the item and realized what his father meant. He reached into his gear and pulled out his inscription tool.
Gerald's eyes lit up instantly. That's it! An inscribing tool! He thought.
There is no way he could use another method with that device. And is it made of mithril? What kind of hidden master was this boy's ancestor?