The fields started only a stone's throw from the edge of the village. I could see a few men with oxen plowing fields. I saw how they struggled with the tough soil as we got closer. It made me tired just looking at them. Other men dug with hoes, turning up the dirt. I saw a man trying to replace the blade of a plow by the side of a field. I had the driver stop. Hoping there was something we could do to help. The man was stocky and drenched with sweat. When he saw the carriage stop, his eyes widened, and he stood up immediately. Wiping his dirty hands on his even dirtier pants, he gave a bow.

"May I ask your name?" I said it in what I hoped was a polite, friendly voice. Was it too much to ask for people not to look at me like I was a monster come to each of their children?

"Please forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to break the plow. I will use a plow stick instead, so I don't waste time."

Fortunately, his head was still down, so he didn't see me rolling my eyes. But he most definitely heard my sigh, though.

"You're not in trouble. I just want your name so I don't have to call you. "Hey, you."

"Forgive me, my lord, my name is Harold."

He was really doubling down on this whole thing, thinking I was going to beat him for displeasing me. "Well, Harold, can we help you fix your plow?"

"My lord?" The question seemed to have confused him.

"We have three extra hands here. I want to help you fix your plow?" I said exasperatingly.

"Oh, thank you, my lord, but I wouldn't want to trouble you." He said, his eyes shifting to Draves to try and confirm my sincerity. Draves's face, of course, gave nothing away. He nodded, however, to assure the trembling man.

"My lord, I just need to attach a new head. A tip of this one is broken."

As Draves helped him attach the head, I stared at the device. This was not like the plows I had seen on TV. This one looked like a bull's horn made of wood attached to two handles. This can't be very effective, I thought. The one that I had seen was made of iron. The plow thing was like two bird wings attached together. It had wheels on either side to help support its weight. As I watched the other farmers in the field, I could tell this narrow stick of a plow would not turn up the dirt like the plows that I had seen. They were also using oxen that just plodded along. Wouldn't horses work better?

If I could get the blacksmith to make the plows that I have seen early Americans use in their fields, I think it would be more productive. We might get a decent harvest if we could get a few of those out on the field.

I walked over to Herold as my driver, Jack, was helping to hitch the oxen. The ox was different than what I was used to seeing. It seemed to have hair more like boar bristles, and its head was shaped differently. The snout was longer, less like an ox, and more like a pig. Maybe a cow and a pig had a baby?

"So, Harold, what would you say are the biggest challenges you are facing with farming this land?"

His head immediately went down, "You have a wonderful land, my lord. Forgive us for our inability to plow the land you have graced us with."

"Ugh, You're killing me, Smalls," I said. I let out a sigh." Look, I know you are struggling to work this land. I don't blame you or the other farmers, but in order to fix a problem, we need to know the situation. Now, the only way I will get upset with you is if you lie to me again. So I'm going to ask you one more time: what is wrong with the land?" Personally, I think I pulled off the stern lord act very well.

"Forgive me, my lord."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"The soil here is hard to work. It's heavy and has clay. Near the capital, the soil is lighter and easier to turn. This means we can't plow more land each year because of the time it already takes to plow what we have, so we have a small harvest. The soil is turning bad in our overworked fields, so we need to dig more, but that's even more time-consuming." He stopped and wouldn't look up at me. I walked over and slapped a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise.

"See, my good man, Harold, that wasn't so hard. Thank you. I see you're leaving the ground in some fields to preserve the nutrients. Crop rotation is very important. Which fields are for wheat, and which fields are for beans?"

"Beans, my lord?"

"Yeah, you plant beans to restore nitrogen to the soil.

That fact stuck with me from high school when my history teacher discussed crop rotation. When he said leguminous plants like beans help balance the soil and prevent bugs, the kid beside me said, "It's probably because bugs don't like having bad gas." And that's how beans became stuck as part of my memory of crop rotation. Also, how I got detention for laughing while the teacher was talking.

"Are you only flipping the two fields?"

"Yes, my lord, planting grains one year and leaving it fallow the next."

"OK, well, now we're putting beans into the rotation before the fallow years. Where can we get those?"

"Most people plant beans in their personal garden. you may find some people who have some, and you might be able to go to the other villages." Harold said.

"Good, Captain, let's go speak with the blacksmith. I think peas work, too."

"Pardon, my lord, but what is a pea?"

"Hmm, maybe you guys don't have them here. Interesting. Well, let's go, Captain." And with that, we left poor Harold scratching his head about his odd conversation with his lord. We drove back to the village, this time stopping in front of the blacksmith shop.

The Blacksmith shop was slightly apart from the other shops. It was not quite as far as the tanner's house, but it was closer to the river than the other houses. His home was not attached to his shop for obvious safety measures. It was also the only building made of stone in the area. I was about to get out of the carriage when I slapped my forehead. I needed to draw out the design. Even if the blacksmith had parchment, I wouldn't use his. Besides, I would want to take my time drawing out my idea. I yelled out to Jack to take us back to the manor.

After another uncomfortably bumpy ride, I reached the manor. I headed directly to my study. I found Marcus there looking over reports. As I entered, he pushed back the chair and stood up. He gave a bow without saying anything.

"Good afternoon, Marcus. I need parchment, a quill, and an inkwell."

"At once, my lord." He stood up and went to a small table in the corner, which held the things I needed. As he was doing that, I was busy looking around. The study was small but functional. It had a bookshelf with a few books but mainly loose parchments separated into cubbies. I even noticed a stack of scrolls. I would have to look over this room another time.

After getting the supplies, I raced toward my room, but when I entered, I realized I didn't have a desk. I went to look in my father's room. His room was, of course, larger than mine. His bed was the same size, but he also had a desk, which, to my chagrin, had all the writing supplies I needed. His closet was bigger, which made sense since my mother shared the rooms. It also had two very comfortable-looking chairs. I sat down at the desk and immediately started drawing.

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Well, actually, drawing might be too kind of a term to describe the mess I was making all over the page. The quill was hard to use, always picking up too much or too little ink. After making a complete mess of my first piece of parchment, I slowed down and started practicing on the second sheet. It took me three sheets to get to the point where I was pretty sure I could make a fair representation of what I wanted. First, I drew out the entire thing on one piece of parchment, then separated each component by part. The blacksmith would make some of it and some by the carpenters. After completing ten diagrams, I left to find Draves.

He was out front drilling five of his men. They were all looking exhausted. "Captian, I apologize for taking you away from your duties, but could you attend me to go to the Blacksmiths?"

"Yes, Lord, let me have the groomsman ready the horses." He said, leaving his men to sweat and gasp. The whole thing looked less than pleasant. Hitching up the carriage took longer than it would have taken to walk down if I wasn't so unhealthy, but I would probably die with all this weight on me.

Once again, I found myself bouncing around in a wooden box. I would eventually be able to develop immunity to this or become so battered that I couldn't move. I groaned as I exited the carriage. That's it. I swore I would walk back up to the manor if it killed me. We walked up to the door and just entered. He would have never heard us knock over all the banging.

The immediate temperature change caused my head to swim. Draves called out to the man hammering at the anvil. "Jorb, we have a request for you." Jorb turned and glanced over his shoulder.

"A moment, please," he said between hammer blows on whatever he was working on. The iron was at an orange bloom, so stopping now would be a waste. We waited for him to finish hammering. When the iron was ready to be bloomed again, he set his tools down and turned around. He was shocked when he saw me there. But then his face went blank, and his voice was flat and carried no emotion as he said, "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't realize it was you. I did not intend to make you wait. Samuel stopped by with your request. I apologize for not starting on it immediately. I didn't realize it was this urgent. I can-"

I held up my hand to stop him. First, his words did not match his tone. He was not sorry he didn't see me and was not sorry he hadn't started on the project. In fact, his stance and face looked like he was hiding a boiling rage inside. He did not want me here. Secondly, I didn't want to spend more time in this sweltering place than I had to. "I am not concerned with that project. That was mainly for my comfort and possibly something we could export to generate revenue. Could we step outside to speak? Although standing in this heat will probably help me to lose a few pounds, I don't think my current constitution could handle it."

We all stepped outside, and I handed him the parchment that concerned his part of the plow. "Could you work with the carpenters to make a plow like this? I believe this will turn the dirt better than our current plows. The wooden plows we have just don't cut it." He looked over each sheet, his face still trying to hide his emotions.

"I believe it can be done. It won't be easy, but I don't believe it is beyond my skills. But you are wanting it done in iron? I do not have enough iron to do this. I also don't know how much the iron mine has on hand."

"If you had your metal, could you complete it in a week?" I asked.

"This is a new design for me to create. If I get it right the first time, then yes. But, my lord, must understand I cannot in good conscience guarantee it until I have tried it."

"Oh, well, that makes sense. Could you make it out of another metal like copper or bronze?"

"Yes," He said, in a tone that made it clear he thought I was an idiot. Realizing his mistake, he said, "Yes, my lord, you can, but copper would be too soft, and we don't have enough tin to make bronze."

I looked over to Draves to see if he had any ideas when my eyes landed on his sword at his hip. "Swords into plow sheers," I muttered. "Captain, does my family have any weapons or armor we could turn into this plow?"

"My lord, I must protest. Your father and brother's armor is worth much more than a plow." He said sternly.

"Is it worth more than the lives of our citizens?"

He thought for a moment and then nodded. "I see your point, my lord, and I believe your heart is in the right place, but you are going about this wrong. If we absolutely need it, we could sell the armor in the city of Vaspar and buy enough supplies to last us through to the next planting if we fall short on the harvest this year. We could even buy even more iron for your plow."

I wanted to slap my forehead. I am so stupid. But really I had never even thought about the cost of making Armor. Sure the material wouldn't be much but labor would be significant. I tried to search the old Amos's memory to see if I could remember what my families armor even looked like. Charles was not plate armor. It was strips of metal pieced together somehow. It also didn't cover everything. I had a vague thought it reminded me of what the Chinese wore in accent times but different. Was my family's armor the same?

"Thank you for your council, Captain. I was in too much of a rush, and as they say, haste makes waste." Of course, in the language I was speaking, this didn't rhyme, so I didn't sound quite as clever. It translated more as. Rushing causes you to be wasteful. Still good but not witty. "How about this then? Jorb, please have someone request the iron you require from the mine. I will pay what is required. Who do you recommend to do the woodwork we need?"

"Mikel is the carpenter who handles most of the plow equipment, my lord."

"Excellent, I will drop these designs off to him and have him get started. I am trying to think of how to reward you for this unique request. How about one of my pigs? You can split it with Mikel when the work is done."

"That is quite generous, my lord," the blacksmith said in surprise.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Since we are not working on the plow right away, could you make me some wire about this thick?" I showed him the size, and he nodded. Going to a bench, he held up a heavy metal board with a bunch of holes of various sizes in it. Pointing to one, he said, "Will this do, my lord?"

"That will be fine. It was a pleasure speaking with you." I left the surly man's shop, hoping he wouldn't sabotage me because he didn't like me. "Captain, do you know what I did to offend that man?" I said as we walked to the carpenter's house.

"No, my lord, I do not know how you managed to offend most people. You have been drunk more often than not in the last few years, which means there were plenty of opportunities."

"Was that a joke? Captain, I have to say I am very impressed." I chuckled.

His lips twitched slightly.

"Not with you, of course. I am congratulating myself for being such a good influence on you," I said with a laugh.

Jorb

I was seeing red. That monster had dared to come into my shop. That man had no right to be anywhere near me or my family. His father had warned him never to go near me again. It had been two years since I had ever had to be that close to that spawn of hell. My son would never be able to work because of him. Soon, my son will be able to sit and hold the tools or work the bellows as I worked the metal, but he would never be able to inherit my shop. All because that drunk fool rode through the village like a maniac.

I stormed into Mikel's shop. "Did that fool come by yet?" I practically shouted.

Mikel held up the pieces of parchment in response. I started to pace the room, "How dare he come into my shop. He thinks he can do what he wants just because he is the lord now. I swear to you, Mikel, as soon as I finish his job, I leave. I'm a freeman; I can do as I please. The only reason I didn't leave after he trampled my son was because the lord promised he was getting rid of the boy. I would leave now if He didn't force this work on me. I'd leave anyway if it wasn't against the law to refuse a job from a noble. He would track my family down for not completing a task he ordered of me. He would kill us all. When the job is done, we will leave in the middle of the night before he can ask anything else of us. You can turn in the invention and keep the pig." I stopped talking when I realized I was ranting and hadn't even let Mikel speak. "Well, say something."

He stood up, came over, and patted me on the shoulder. "You needed to get that out."

I wasn't done yet, though. "This job he wants of us is stupid. The boy knows nothing about farming, and the moment he gets made lord, he gives us worthless projects."

"I like it. I wish I had thought of it."

"You can't be serious." I almost yelled at him.

"I know you hate him. You, above anyone in this village, have a right to. But you are letting your hatred blind you. Did you even look at the design? Really, look at it?"

"Yes, I did," I growled. I was ready to storm out. How dare he take that fiend's side over mine.

"No, you didn't. You looked at the parts and how much iron it would take. You looked at how much time it would take to build. But you didn't look at what it is supposed to do."

"It's a plow. It turns the soil."

Mikel shook his head. "It's how it will turn the dirt. You and I make wood plows and simple iron ones because they are light. A plow like this without the wheels he proposed would be too heavy. But with them and with the wing shape, the plow should churn the dirt better. A farmer may only need one pass to make a solid run. This may cut the time in half. I suggest you work hard, make the plow, and run as far away as possible. Set up shop somewhere and continue making these. You may revolutionize the plow industry."

I didn't say anything except snatch the picture of the plow he had. In a rage, I had almost burned my copy. Looking it over, I grunted. It might work. "He wanted to melt down his family's armor just so he could get it done faster. The boy is an idiot and an impatient fool. There is no way he came up with this himself."

"Does it matter? The fool is giving us a whole pig for it on top of paying for supplies."

That thought did make me grin.