“Hey-ho, the wind a-blows, the rye a-grows, see how they sway – the seeds we owe, to the great earth below” -Scanian folk song

Li walked along the main avenue of the village, occasionally stumbling in the knee-deep snow. Although the villagers all called it the main avenue, it was nothing more than a clear patch of land that ran through the length of the village. The ground below was unpaved, and formed a muddy morass when the snow melted. Of course, there was also no snow-removal service, which meant just getting somewhere during the winter months became a chore.

There were few people outside. Understandably, most people tried to spend as little time outside as possible during winter to avoid illness. Apart from when they ventured out to gather snow and ice to melt for water, Li rarely saw the other villagers after the first snowfall. Occasionally though, he did spot some of the village men ice fishing next to the frozen river, the temptation of fresh fish outweighing any concerns about catching a cold.

Arriving in front of Olof’s workshop, Li paused for a moment to catch his breath before entering the building. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by the smell of pinewood. Scattered around the workshop were various piles of planks and furniture in varying states of completion. Several finished chairs were placed in the centre of the room, upon one of which sat Olof sat, whittling away at a piece of wood. Short yet strong, with a grumpy face and brownish-blonde beard, he gave the impression of a clay statue that was squashed vertically before being fired. Li raised a hand in greeting, Olof responding with a curt nod of acknowledgement. Making his way through the various piles of assorted wood products, he stopped in front of an odd-looking contraption, three legs sticking out the bottom like a giant rake. His objective of the day.

Being a 21st-century city dweller who never really concerned himself with physical activity, Li was physically weak compared to the villagers who relied on working with their muscles to survive. He had tried his hand at farming, toiling throughout the day in the fields with Albrecht. He gave up the next day, as not only were his hands covered in painful blisters that made it impossible to wield a hoe, he also could not stand. Nor was he any good at household chores. He had no idea how to cook using the tools and materials available to him here, could not wash clothes without a washing machine, and the only contact he’d had with needles back on earth was at the doctor’s office.

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This did not mean, however, that he was a parasite, although Albrecht loved to tease him for seeming like one. With 4 years of engineering studies under his belt, he was confident that his contributions to the village would soon outweigh those of even the best farmer.

“Everything’s finished?” Li asked, turning to face Olof. “Mostly”, he grunted. “This design of yours, while a pain in the ass to build, does look to be useful. I just need to get the metal components from Blacksmith Jarnhard, and we’ll be done here.”

Li smiled. The construction of the device had gone smoother than he expected – Olof was good at his craft. Sighing, Li took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. The pinewood box on top was fitted perfectly, with the gaps between planks hardly visible. The handle was sanded smooth and varnished with a clear layer of pine resin. The three legs on the bottom, however, were perhaps the best indication of Olof’s skill, while also being the primary cause of his complaining. Connected by a tube to the trough, they had to be hollowed out without compromising the strength of the wood. Made of oak rarely found in the forests near Skeirheim, Li had insisted on using the stronger material for the legs, as it would last longer. Of course, this made Olof’s job all the harder, as oak was much more difficult to work with than softwood pine or spruce.

All that was left was to attach the metal furrow openers and skims before he had a completely functional seed drill. Originally used by the Babylonians and then the Chinese, the seed drill would massively reduce the amount of seed grain wasted during sowing compared to hand sowing. It accomplished this by ensuring all grains were sowed at the proper depth and in the right location, compared to hand sowing, which scattered grain all over the place. It also saved time and effort, since the ploughing, sowing, and covering happened all at once, rather than separately and by hand.

Having finished checking up on the building progress of the seed drill, Li headed back to the Achilles household. He could hear Albrecht laughing from within, while a fresh set of footprints had appeared in front of the door. He stamped his boots outside to shake off the snow before entering. Inside, Albrecht was still seated in front of the fireplace. This time though, he was joined by a fine young lass, golden hair glinting in the light of the fire.

“Hello, Helga”, greeted Li. Helga smiled and returned the greeting. “Back from Olof’s again?” she asked. Nodding, Li took off his jacket and boots before joining the pair in front of the fire. “Seed drill’s coming along nicely”, he said. “Olof says he can finish it before the spring sowing. It’ll reduce the amount of seed grain required, hopefully enough for this fatass to eat without starving half the village”. He jerked his head in Albrecht’s direction. “He who does not work, neither shall he eat”, came the retort. “I do more work, therefore, I get to eat more.”