Toj sat next to a crackling fireplace, taking in the warm and comfortable scene around him. Men and women were chopping vegetables, scooping flour, stirring bubbling pots, and engaging in all kinds of meal preparation. Friendly Seth, his host, directed others who were bringing more food and supplies from a door on the ground that led to some kind of storage cellar. Fruits, grains, meats, spices, firewood… it seemed like there was no end to the abundance being handed from one member of the human chain to the next. How big would a cellar need to be to hold so much?

In the midst of it all were the children. So many children. Their ages seemed to range from as young as a newborn infant to old enough to hardly be considered children at all. But these weren’t the kind of whining, frowning human children that Toj tried so hard to avoid when he performed at large towns. These children smiled at him. They seemed to smile at everything. Some were smiling at their mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles as they tried their best to help with the food. They smiled at their cousins as they played games together. They smiled at their grandfathers and grandmothers as they listened to stories and sang songs. Their smiles seemed to warm the scene as much as the fireplace.

The only children not smiling were those that were sleeping. Some slept together in bunches under piles of patchwork blankets. Some were bundled up and snoring within hammocks that hung from sturdy wooden rafters, suspended like blissfully swaying cocoons. Some were held close and swaddled by parents or older siblings who rocked and bounced and soothed them with motions like a gentle dance. Instead of smiles, each child who slept wore a face of utter peace and tranquility.

Outside, a storm raged. There were no windows in view from where Toj was sitting, so the satyr was unsure how he knew about the storm. Nonetheless, he knew. Outside those sturdy walls of stone and clay, the wind was howling, the clouds were churning, the rain and sleet and snow and hail were beating. And yet within the walls where Toj sat, there was only a soft murmur of the tumult beyond. Rather than frighten the adults or disturb the peaceful slumber of the children, the low, constant rhythm of the muffled storm seemed to somehow add to the comfort and peace of the entire scene.

“This is what it was like for me the first night I stayed at the Homestead,” said Timot. The young enchanter smiled, but there was a sadness behind the expression.

Toj hadn’t noticed Timot sitting next to him near the fireplace, but he realized that the enchanter must’ve been there ever since… Since when? How long had Toj been in this room? How had he even gotten there? He looked at Friendly Seth again, and then back at Timot.

“The enchanted dream,” said Toj, realization snapping him out of the moment. “For a moment there I was so wrapped up in it all that I nearly lost myself.”

“This is no trap that seeks to ensnare you if you let your guard down,” said Timot. “You’re in no danger of losing yourself here, and there’s nothing wrong with getting wrapped up in a moment from time to time. Though if this were a trap, I could hardly think of a more enticing scene among all my many memories.”

“Enough,” Toj replied, shaking his head. While this memory may have been a pleasant one for the enchanter, it seemed cruel to Toj to witness such peace and contentment when his own upbringing had provided him so little of either. “The last thing I remember before we came here was you claiming to be the one who created the Sword of Wheat. That’s what I’m here to learn about. So why show me this?”

“The Sword of Wheat was created as an instrument of protection,” said Timot. “If you want to understand it, you need to understand what it was meant to protect.”

“Dinner?” Toj scoffed.

“A home,” replied Timot. “Peace. A family. People who took me in and cared for me when I was a total stranger. People who showed me kindness and made me feel like I belonged, when everyone else in my life before that just wanted to use me for one thing or another. Doesn’t that seem worth protecting?”

“I honestly couldn’t say,” said Toj. The satyr grinned, but he wasn’t smiling. “I’ve never had a home, and I have no idea what peace feels like. So I guess I just can’t relate.”

“And what about a family?” Timot asked.

“I’ve got my two brothers,” said Toj. “Roj and Soj. We watch each other’s backs, and we’re always good for sharing a laugh, but it’s nothing like this. I’ve been taking care of them as long as I can remember. But this…” Toj gestured at the scene all around them. “These are people who took you in and took care of you. How am I supposed to understand what that’s like?”

“Has no one ever invited you in and cared for you?” asked Timot. His voice was the same tone, but softer somehow. His expression became familiar and knowing, as if Timot had know Toj for years and was now sharing an old joke he should already know.

Toj scooted back in his chair a bit. “What’re you…”

“Toj,” said Timot, as the room shimmered slightly. “You are sitting here speaking with an enchanter who has been dead for over a century. If you think I’m the one causing this enchanted dream, then you are farther off the mark than you think.”

“But then…” Toj looked around the room, as if he expected to find someone in the corner, casting a spell.

“Do you know of no one else who knows how to weave enchantments?” asked Timot. “No one at all?”

Toj’s eyes went wide as realization dawned on him. “Lady Aluanna? Is that you?”

“Of course not,” said Timot, straightening in his chair. “I told you, I am Timot, creator of the Sword of Wheat. Your Lady Aluanna is not here, but she is the one weaving this enchanted dream for you so I can share the sword’s story.”

“So Lady Aluanna isn’t here, but she’s the one controlling it?” asked Toj. “Can she see and hear everything happening?”

“That, I couldn’t say,” replied Timot. “In my time, I had never heard of such an enchantment as this. I would imagine that even in your day it would likely be considered a rarity, if not unique altogether. I suspect it may be something of an experiment. If that’s the case, questioning the enchantment further would only cause to weaken and disrupt it, or shatter it entirely. Best to go with the flow from here on out.”

“Before we go on, I will tell you one more thing about this dream itself,” Timot said. “You look dreadfully embarrassed, and that will likely get in our way if you let it weigh you down. For what it’s worth, and my expertise as an enchanter is worth quite a lot, I don’t believe your Lady Aluanna has seen or heard anything that has transpired in this dream. She is playing her part to supply the magic for this enchantment, while someone else seems to be providing the facts and history that feed the truthfulness of the dream. But you Toj, are the witness. That is your part to play. Why have you be the witness if Lady Aluanna could simply witness it herself? Do you understand?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” said Toj. “And you’re right, I do know how it feels to be taken in and cared for. Lady Aluanna and her band have cared for me and my brothers as if we were no different from the rest of them. They are my family.”

“And what would you do to protect that family?” asked Timot.

“Whatever it takes,” said Toj.

“Good,” said Timot, “then you’re ready to witness what comes next.”

There was a shimmer in the air, and then Timot’s expression was completely different. He was no longer looking at Toj with a knowing smirk, he was instead looking around the room with worry written all over his face. He took a deep breath, and then stood to speak.

“Please everyone, you need to listen to me!” Timot said to the crowd around him. “If you understood the kind of danger you’re really in, you would have driven me off the moment I stepped foot on your land. You’re all good people, and I know you mean well to show me so much kindness, but you’re only dooming yourselves.”

The room went quiet and Timot turned to speak directly to Friendly Seth. “My friend, I told you I’m a coward. If I try to turn myself in, I’ll lose my nerve and run away again. The penalty for deserting my lord’s army is death, and if the deserter can use magic, that penalty extends to anyone who harbors or helps them escape. So I’m begging you one last time, put me in shackles and deliver me back to my post to face execution. I can’t bear to imagine what will happen to your family when my lord’s soldiers arrive to retrieve me.”

Friendly Seth put down the sack of flour he was holding and gave Timot a hard stare. “You’ve already told me all of this, Timot,” he said. “And I’m going to tell you the same thing I said before. We have no shackles here, and we never will. Here in the Homestead, all are free and all are friends who wish to be. We won’t turn on you, my friend. There may be wicked men out there who abuse their power to hurt and bully anyone they can. But that isn’t how we do things here in the Homestead. We take care of each other and we do what’s right. The only way they can take that away from us is when we choose to act like they do. Please never ask us to act like them.”

Toj looked around the room to see everyone in the family nodding in agreement with their patriarch. Even the children had resolute expressions on their faces. The bravery and loyalty in the room was so thick that Toj struggled to fight back tears.

“If that’s to be your final answer,” said Timot, “then I’ll do everything in my power to give you the best protection I can.”

The entire scene shimmered, and Toj found himself once again standing outside in the wheat field where his dream had begun. Timot was there, standing in front of Friendly Seth, and the rest of the clan stood around them. “Danger approaches,” said Timot in a voice more resonant than before. “Seth, steward of this land and patriarch of your clan, have you brought what I asked of you?”

“I have,” said Friendly Seth. He stepped forward and handed Timot his scythe. “This is the tool I use to harvest the bounty of this land. It has served me well over the years, and has become like another limb to me. I now entrust it to you and this enchantment.”

“Brothers of Seth,” said Timot in the same resonant voice, “have you brought what I asked of you?”

Two men stepped forward, carrying a large loaf of bread. It was not hard for Toj to see the family resemblance. “We have,” the brothers said in unison. “This is the bounty of our harvest and the fruits of our labor. It gives nourishment to our bodies and fills the bellies of our wives and children. It sustains us so we can return to the field to harvest again. It is the source of our strength. We now entrust it to you and this enchantment.” The brothers gave the loaf of bread to Timot, now holding the scythe in one hand, and the bread in the other.

“Children of Seth,” Timot called out, “have you brought what I asked of you?”

More than a dozen children of various ages stepped forward, and Toj realized that the group must have been the grandchildren of Friendly Seth, since they were all too young and too numerous to be his actual offspring. They moved in step with one another, as if performing a dance they had rehearsed for months.

“We have,” they said together. While a few voices trailed behind, it was clear to Toj that this too had been carefully rehearsed, and it sounded more to him like the recitation of a poem than the words of children. As they moved towards Timot, they each held out a seed of wheat in their hands.

“This is the next generation of our harvest,” they said. “Even when the time of one crop ends, and the stalks of wheat fall, new seeds will always return to the soil to grow up stronger and more resilient than the ones before. Though simple, it holds countless possibilities. Though small, it is the source of our whole future. We now entrust it to you and this enchantment.”

When the children reached Timot, one by one they bent down and placed the seeds they brought into a small hole near his feet. After delivering the seeds, the children scattered to return and stand with their parents in the circle surrounding Timot.

“I thank you for these precious gifts,” Timot called to the assembly. “I am honored by your trust, and humbled by your strength. I was once an enchanter in the service of a warmonger, and I drew upon my own skill and strength and wisdom to fight his enemies and fortify his forces. But against the struggle that approaches us, my strength and skill and wisdom are not enough. My magic would be drained in an instant if it was sustained by my might alone.”

“But here in the Homestead, none of us is ever alone!” A cheer rang out among the crowd as Timot said these words. “The strength of the Homestead does not come from any one of us alone. The strength of the Homestead is not even limited to those gathered here today.”

Timot held the scythe high. “The strength of the Homestead comes from those whose arms would labor to till and cultivate and harvest it.” Timot held up the bread in his other hand. “The strength of the Homestead comes from the land, which nourishes and sustains its stewards who care for it.” Timot stepped forward and looked down at the hole full of seeds. “The strength of the Homestead comes from each rising generation that comes, and has yet to come, always retaining the heritage they bear.”

The bread in Timot’s hand began to glow, and he held it aloft until it rose from his hand. As it hovered higher in the air, its light became brighter and brighter until it looked like a second sun. The hole filled with seeds grew full of tall, golden stalks of wheat that reached above the heads of everyone in attendance. The scythe in Timot’s hand began to shimmer and change, and its metal blade began to glow as if had just been pulled white-hot from the forge.

Timot held the scythe high with both hands. “Seth, steward of this land, and patriarch of your clan,” Timot called out. “Last autumn you rose up from your field and defended my life with this scythe. On that day, your strength was enough to protect me. Now there approaches a force that is too great to defeat with the strength of your arm alone. And so, I shall forge for you a weapon that will grant the patriarch of this clan the strength, skill, and wisdom of the Homestead. And just like the Homestead, your might, and the might of any who wields this blade to defend the Homestead, will not be limited to the might of flesh and bone, but to the very heart of the land. And the heart of the land will likewise be made mightier by all of your clan who make it their home.”

Timot reached to the top of the scythe, breaking the blade off with only a hand width of the handle remaining. Taking the glowing blade, he plunged it into the golden stalks of wheat. The stalks twisted in tightening spirals around the blade until it was completely enveloped, and Timot withdrew his hand. “Seth, steward of this land and patriarch of your clan,” called Timot, “come forth and claim the might of the Homestead!”

Friendly Seth stepped forward and reached inside the spiraled column of wheat. Toj had to admit to himself that if he had been asked to stick his hand inside a writhing mass of magical grass, he probably wouldn’t have looked as confident as Seth did.

When Friendly Seth withdrew his hand, the golden wheat stalks scattered into a thousand pieces, blowing around in a great whirlwind. And there, in the middle of the whirlwind, stood Friendly Seth, holding the Sword of Wheat.

The blade of the sword looked simple and unadorned, though expertly crafted and sharp. The hilt of the sword was made of the same wood that had been the handle of Seth’s scythe, though now it was finely polished and appeared to be carved with the image of wheat all around it. From the look on his face and the way that he held it, Toj could tell that it had already become like another appendage for Friendly Seth.

“Now for the final verse of this enchantment,” called Timot. “The might of the sword and the one who yields it, comes from the Homestead as I have said. Yet the connection binding this enchantment still relies on my strength alone. To avoid calamity when my own strength fails, take this bread provided by your kin, and cut it with the Sword of Wheat.” At these words, the second sun above them descended back to Timot’s hand, and its intensity dimmed until it appeared again to be a normal loaf of bread. Its heavenly aroma now wafted across the whole field, and Toj thought it unfair that a dream could make him so hungry.

“Once you have cut the bread,” called Timot, “give a morsel to every member of your clan present here today. By doing this, the connection that binds this enchantment will be shared and strengthened by all, rather than bound by me alone. And from this day forth, anyone born to or adopted by those who ate this bread will add their strength to this binding as well. Seth, steward of this land, patriarch of your clan, and protector of the Homestead, do you accept these duties?”

“Yes,” said Friendly Seth, “I do.”

“Then I hereby name you, Seth the Protector,” said Timot, his voice wavering and his knees shaking, “and I declare this enchantment, bound and sealed.”

As soon as the last words were spoken, the entire scene shimmered and became dark and silent.

“What happened?” Toj asked in alarm. “Is that the end?”

“I certainly thought it was,” said the voice of Timot from the utter darkness surrounding them. “I knew that an enchantment of that magnitude was beyond the strength of a common enchanter like me. Such acts would be the stuff of legend, and I was nothing but a lowly infantry enchanter, capable of little more than providing basic support for footmen or a mild nuisance for a knight or two. I suspected that even attempting to channel that kind of magic would leave me magically drained, and very likely dead.”

“So why didn’t you?” asked Toj.

“It seemed I had underestimated the hospitality and kindness of Friendly Seth yet again,” said Timot. The darkness shimmered, and Toj saw the frail body of Timot lying in a bed with a beautiful young woman sitting beside him. At the door stood Seth the Protector, with the Sword of Wheat hanging from a scabbard at this waist. He nodded, and the young woman placed a piece of bread in Timot’s mouth. After a moment, Timot’s jaw moved as he began chewing the bread, and his eyes fluttered open.

Toj stepped closer to the bed, trying to understand what was happening. A shimmer crossed Timot’s face, and he turned his head to speak to the satyr. “After cutting the enchanted bread into enough morsels for his entire clan, he ordered that one piece be saved for me. He declared me a member of his clan that day, and adopted me into the Homestead. A year later, I would fall in love and marry one of his daughters. This lovely young woman you see tending to me here. The magic that I thought would kill me to bind, instead became the magic that strengthened me as soon as I was bound to it.”

“And that binding effect grew and multiplied far beyond what I ever could have imagined. I suspect that if I had really understood what I was doing, I never would have been able to accomplish it. The enchantment bound the might of the clan to the might of the land, causing the land to grow even more lush and fertile than before. In return, the enchantment also bound the might of the land to the might of the clan, making them all more hearty and resilient than before, even those who didn’t wield the Sword of Wheat directly.”

“The wisdom and skill possessed by the patriarch of the clan was also greater than I had anticipated,” continued Timot. “Seth the Protector saw the value in keeping not only the Sword of Wheat, but also the wooden handle from his old scythe that the blade had been broken from. He commanded his clan to carve their history into the polished hardwood, using an intricate and beautiful written language that he created himself.”

“What about the warmonger’s troops?” asked Toj. “Did they ever arrive and attack you after all that trouble?”

“Of course they did,” said Timot. “Countless times they came to punish us, subjugate our clan, and steal our home. In some of the early battles, we took heavy losses, but as we continued to fortify the Homestead, we took fewer and fewer. Seth the Protector instructed us on building a great walled storehouse in the center of the Homestead, and that came to act as our fortress when enemy forces marched against us.”

“We learned to prepare for sieges. We build secret tunnels and passages leading out from the walls of the storehouse so we could continue to harvest the crops, even when our enemies believed they had us surrounded. Our patriarch even used the Sword of Wheat to cut through solid stone as we excavated and delved deeper into the ground, gradually expanding the large cellar into an entire underground kingdom of storage rooms and strongholds.”

“Not all of the encounters with outsiders were violent though. As news of the Homestead spread, many came to seek us out and see if the stories were true. When they heard of a place where they could live free from tyranny and abuse, many left all that they had to come to the Homestead and ask to be adopted in. Our patriarch never hesitated for a moment, and invited in everyone who arrived.”

“What happened to Friendly Seth?” asked Toj.

“I died of course,” said Friendly Seth, suddenly shimmering into focus from the blur of scenes rushing past Toj’s eyes. “I suppose that in theory I could have used the strength of the Homestead to avoid death by old age indefinitely, but fortunately I had the wisdom of the Homestead to see the heartache that would cause.”

“Oh, Seth!” said Toj, feeling a bit startled. “It had been so long since we spoke that I didn’t think you had anything else to tell me.”

“Well, I suppose I do have one last thing to tell you,” said Friendly Seth. “The mantle of leadership in my clan was always meant to be passed along, never hoarded. That’s why I didn’t use the might from the Sword of Wheat to keep myself alive for generations. Because I knew it would never do to choke out the new generation by keeping the old generation holding on longer than was natural. So now that you’ve witnessed all that you have, please take your witness back to the land of the living and the awake. Share the truth of who we were and who we are.”

Friendly Seth held up a staff, carved from the wooden handle of the old scythe. It was much taller, and less worn away from repeated carving, but there was no denying the design at the top. It was the same pattern on the end of Seth’s shillelagh. “If you ever happen to run into someone who carries these carvings with them, please help protect them and bring them home.”

“Actually, I think I have,” said Toj. “One of your kids, I think. Or one of your grandkids, that is great-grandkids. Or maybe a great-great-great-great-not-so-great nephew? In any case, I’ve seen him and he’s not too far away.”

“Well then,” said Friendly Seth and Timot in a unison voice that clearly hadn’t been rehearsed at all. “This audit is officially over.”

“What?” asked Toj. The moment had so surprised him that it took him a while to realize that he was already once again sitting in the small, stuffy office of Lord Haughlt.

“I said,” Lord Hault responded with a bored expression, “that this brings us to the conclusion of the auditing logs I have on file for this particular case. Will you be disputing any of the information? There’s a report I need to fill out if that’s the case.”

“No, but thank you,” said Aluanna, stifling a yawn. “That information was all very fascinating and helpful for our quest.”

As they left Lord Haughlt’s office, Aluanna turned to Toj. “Please say that you witnessed something interesting and usable during that little nap you had in Haughlt’s office,” she said. “Because all his numbers and dates and details went right over my head.”

“Not to worry, my lady,” Toj said with a wink. “I’ll have the whole story bound together in a nice easy-to-listen-to story by the time we get back to camp. And boy is it a story to tell!”