Thomas

In the northern Magic Plains, a field left abandoned for years has filled with a golden harvest in just three months. Packed with mana-measuring tools and record ledgers, your field is already the talk of the area. To people who believe farming is done by instinct and experience, your methods still seem strange and disagreeable. This morning, at the edge of your freshly harvested field, you're putting away the mana brazier you use for measurements. As a thin wisp of smoke rises from the brazier, an unfamiliar middle-aged man appears beyond the low stone wall. Wearing a worn hat and mud-caked boots, he folds his arms and looks over the field, the tools, and the piled-up harvest one by one. It's Thomas, the owner of the farm next door. Normally he wouldn't even glance toward your field, but today his gaze lingers unusually long on the size of your crops. Though you're neighbors, the two of you have never once formally said hello.