Three years in Ashbrook dragged by in a quiet, steady routine. Seasons changed, and several cycles of crops were sown and harvested. But for William, his journey towards magic remained still.
Every morning, when the sun began to spread its warmth in the village lanes, William headed straight to the forge. He wasn't big enough to swing the heavy sledges yet, but he made sure he was useful. He carried buckets of fresh water to cool the glowing iron, swept black charcoal dust from the floor, and sorted the bins of loose coal and nails before the midday heat trapped the air inside the workshop. Over time, the forge became a second home. His hands grew rough and calloused under John’s watchful eye.
Meanwhile, life in the house moved forward as the other kids grew up. Matt, now thirteen, changed the most. The sharp, bitter envy he felt after William’s first trip to the city slowly faded, replaced by a real effort to be useful. Instead of hanging around the village lanes, Matt spent his days out in the fields working alongside his father, learning to tend crops and handle the hard labor of the land. Craig was older now, taking over the smaller chores around the yard. Seven-year-old Emma spent her days running errands for her mother, her old bedtime chatter about beautiful horses replaced by a quick, sharp wit.
But while his cousins were busy growing into normal village children, William lived a double life in his own head. His fascination with the true magic he had stumbled upon in the woods hadn't faded. If anything, the passing months only made the memory clearer, like a secret anchor holding him steady.
Once a year, John kept his word and took William along on his trading trip back to the city. To the family, it looked like a reward for the boy's hard work at the shop. To William, it was a search. Every time they rolled through the stone gates, while John argued over prices for iron and tools, William's eyes traced the crowds, the dark alleyways, and the street performers. He didn't care about the fancy carriages or the white horses anymore. He was looking for a spark—any sign of a real magician, or another clue about the old man. But every year, the city gave him the same answer: loud markets, ordinary tradesmen, and fake tricks meant to fool children.
However, this morning brings a complete shift to the slow life of Ashbrook. As William leaves for the forge, he sees the usual villagers heading out to work, but their daily rhythm shatters. A loud, heavy rattling of a carriage echoes through the lanes, surrounded by a dozen armed soldiers. The sudden halt of the horses in the middle of the village square draws a crowd, the noise waking up anyone still asleep.
'Are those from the city?' William thinks, stepping toward the gathering crowd.
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Before he can get close, a firm hand grabs his shoulder and tugs him back. It is his uncle. His aunt stands quietly beside him, her face pale. William wants to argue, but one look at their tense expressions makes him shut his mouth. He turns and walks back toward the house, noticing that the other village adults are doing the exact same thing, hustling their kids out of sight.
Inside the house, his cousins are already pressed against the windows.
"Do you know what's happening?" Matt asks, keeping his voice low as he tries to sound mature and calm.
William shakes his head and sits down at the wooden table. “Why would anyone important from the city bother coming to our dusty little village?” he murmurs to himself. He looks around the room. Matt keeps peeking through the shutters, while Emma and Craig quietly finish their oatmeal porridge, their eyes wide with confusion.
As they sit together in the tense silence, the front door swings open. Uncle Rob and Aunt Gretchen walk in, their faces pale with a mix of confusion and pure disbelief.
William shifts to ask a question, but Matt beats him to it, his voice tight. "What happened, Dad?"
Rob stays quiet, staring blankly ahead as if he didn't even hear the question. He only snaps out of it when his wife places a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He looks up, his voice heavy. "The soldiers... They say the Baron passed an order. Every village close to the Elder Forest has to relocate elsewhere." He reaches up, placing his hand over his wife's.
The words hit the room like a physical blow. Shock washes over the children.
"Where will they send us?" Matt yells, slamming his hand down on the window sill. "This is our land!"
"I'm afraid we don't have a choice," Rob says, stepping forward to rub Matt’s shoulder to calm him down. "As for where we go... the Baron's men don't care. They are just giving us money and telling us to move ourselves."
William studies the deep lines of worry on his uncle's face. "Are they shortchanging us?" he asks quietly.
Rob’s expression shifts from deep sadness to utter bewilderment. "No. They are paying us good money. In fact... way too much." He pauses, shaking his head as if he still can't believe the numbers. "According to their calculations, we are getting sixty silvers for our house and fields."
A deep sense of shock takes over William’s mind. 'Why? According to the usual rates, they would be lucky to get even half of that amount. Sixty silvers makes their rural property as expensive as a plot in the city—maybe even more. Is there something else going on?'
The rest of the day passes in a cold, tense silence. Uncle Rob and Aunt Gretchen spend the hours whispering in the corner, discussing their worries over a completely blank future. The kids are left to their own misery. Matt stands by the window, staring out at the village square with anger shining in his eyes. Craig sits slumped against the wall, his expression entirely empty, while quiet sadness pulls at Emma's face.
In the midst of all this grief, William's mind struggles to find answers to a thousand burning questions.