Jacob hunched over the workbench while the dim light of the barn caught the polished surfaces of the brass gears. He picked up a small, cogged wheel and held it against a secondary plate to check the fit. The metal felt cold and stubborn under his fingers.
Sera stepped closer to the table and rested her hands on the wood. "The components look far too delicate for the heavy mud of the fields," she observed while watching him work. Her voice carried a hint of concern as she looked at the growing pile of rejected springs.
Jacob shook his head and adjusted a tension spring with a pair of pliers. "The brass carries the mana better than iron would ever manage. This gear needs to catch the lever at exactly the right moment to release a single bulb or seed, depending on the attachment we are using."
He tried to force the main drive wheel into place, but the teeth ground together with a harsh, screeching sound. Jacob let out a long breath of frustration and set the tools down on the scarred wood.
He realized that his magical intent was powerful, but it could not fix a fundamental flaw in the mechanical design.
"I am trying to link the rotation of these wheels directly to the release mechanism," Jacob said while looking at his partner. "The intent behind this magic must be a constant rhythm. The machine needs to know exactly when to let a bulb or a seed go so they are spaced evenly across the soil."
He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the jammed assembly. "My magic can strengthen the metal, but it cannot teach me how to build a clock. I don't think we can finish this without someone who understands these complex processes better than I do."
Sera tilted her head and watched a small gear roll across the table. "There is a boy in the village named Bran who might be exactly what you need. He is the son of the wainwright, and he spends all his free time tinkering with old wheels and broken pulleys."
Jacob looked at her with a spark of renewed interest. "I remember the wainwright's shop, but I did not know the son had a talent for such things. I think I met him a while back, their wagon was broken down on the side of the road."
"He is quiet and keeps to himself most days," Sera explained with a small smile. "I saw him fixing a complex spinning wheel for Mrs. Miller last week, and he looked quite capable of handling your brass gears."
The heavy sound of a galloping horse echoed through the barn doors and caused them both to turn toward the yard. A rider dressed in tan livery pulled his mount to a sliding halt near the fence. He did not say a single word of greeting to the family members nearby. He reached into a leather bag and tossed a wax-sealed scroll toward Arthur.
"Land transfer documents for the Hemlock holdings," the man shouted over the wind. He immediately wheeled his horse around and spurred it back toward the main road. A thick cloud of mist swallowed the messenger before Jacob could even reach the barn door to ask a question.
Jacob walked toward his father with a look of genuine confusion on his face. "Why did he leave so fast? I thought a royal official would need to see us sign the papers before he could depart."
Arthur caught the scroll and wiped a smudge of damp mud from the parchment. "The laws for the Sinclair Kingdom work differently for the protection of the farms. A messenger is merely a carrier for the physical vessel of the law. He is not required to be a witness to our signatures."
They walked into the kitchen where Arthur laid the thick scroll onto the table. The paper smelled of old wood and metallic ink. Dense lines of formal text detailed the coordinates of the Miller and Vance plots. Arthur signed his name with a bold stroke of the quill before handing the pen to his son.
"You must sign this as the primary investor," Arthur said while pointing to the line below his own signature. "The gold came from your pocket, and the crown must recognize you as the rightful owner of this land."
"I would think that anything I owned would be yours as my father," Jacob replied, "is that not how things work?"
Arthur thought for a moment before replying.
"Not that I have ever heard of, the money has to have come from somewhere and an investigation would reveal that you were the one who earned it, not to mention that you also negotiated for the land. So, you are going to have to sign as the primary investor anyway."
Jacob added his signature and watched as Arthur pressed his thumb onto a raised purple seal. A small spark of mana jumped from Arthur's skin into the wax. The seal began to glow with a fierce, sapphire light that raced across the entire surface of the parchment.
Silent, mystical flames erupted from the paper and consumed the document in a matter of seconds. Jacob pulled his hands back from the blue fire, but the table remained cool to the touch. The contract turned into a fine, shimmering dust that vanished into the air around them.
"Is the proof gone?" Jacob asked while looking at the empty table. "How do we show people that we bought the land if the paper is ash?"
Arthur smiled and gestured toward the distant horizon. "This is why I wanted you to see this process. The magic ensures the contract is permanent and beyond any doubt. At the exact moment those flames finished, an identical copy of the document appeared on a desk in Spring City. The county capital now holds a record that can never be altered or stolen. Our claim is officially recognized by the kingdom."
Jacob looked out at the muddy fields where the fences were already being moved. The expansion of the Hemlock farm was no longer just a private plan. It was now a matter of royal record that the world would have to acknowledge.