Mitchell's Skill, the two discovered, was a powerful one that could turn wood into iron, and at the Master Stage he had achieved, he could shape his self-made metal into any shape he desired. This Skill ensured they never ran out of tools and had access to any tool they needed.
But their peace could not last forever.
One evening, as husband and wife watched their children play with content expressions, they heard the sound of trumpets in the distance.
The two, now in their late forties, exchanged a worried glance and stood.
"Inside, children," Mitchell called.
As his children rushed into the safety of the house, he and his wife picked their way through the fields to the fence they had erected around their property.
A man armored from the neck down in metal plates was there to greet them. He kept his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword at all times, squinting at the new arrivals.
Behind and to his side was a man in leather armor, who held the trumpet that caused the sound at his side. To their backs was a contingent of scholars with thick packs on their backs holding various surveying tools and camping supplies.
"Can I help you, Arch-Mage?" Mitchell asked warily.
He and his wife were Masters, the young narrator said, and the scholars were merely Adepts at the highest.
But that paled in comparison to the grand status of Arch-Mage that the armored man held, and the Master in leather was someone to be careful around as well. The husband and wife were farmers, not fighters.
"The Emperor has bequeathed this land to me," the man in metal said haughtily. "This land is now my property. Vacate immediately."
"We've lived here for decades," Drethnell said calmly, straightening to her full height, which was still a head shorter than the man before her. "And our kids have been birthed on this very land.
"By the Emperor's own law, this is our land, not yours."
"That law was changed decades ago," laughed the man in leather. "You must foster a minimum of two generations to claim the land as your own now. You have nothing."
"We shall be back here tomorrow morning," the Arch-Mage said. "If you and your family are here at that time, we will not hesitate to cut you down."
The man and his retinue turned and left, making camp not far away. More than close enough to remind Mitchell and Drethnell of their presence every time they looked that way.
"What do we do, Mitchell?" Drethnell asked.
"I've already lost my home once," Mitchell replied grimly, clenching his fists and glaring hatefully at the group of nobles. "I shall not have my children go through such an experience as well."
"I would stand by you until the end of the world, Mitchell," Drethnell replied, grabbing his arm. She met his gaze, endless sadness and bitterness within. "But we cannot stand against them. No home is a far better fate than no life."
The fight left Mitchell swiftly. In its place was an ordinary man. Not a Mage, not a warrior, but a simple farmer and husband who was having his home torn from him a second time.
He cast a longing gaze at the fields and the cabin he and his wife had built with their own hands. A deep, depressing sigh escaped his lips, but he nodded.
"Get the children. I'll start packing the carts."
Drethnell did as she was told. She and her four children joined Mitchell in the barn, where they started loading their most important possessions into five carts.
When that was done, Drethnell used her Skill to round up their five giant wolves and lash them to the carts before they headed out.
As the family forlornly walked through the fields they had spent most of their lives in, Drethnell stifled a sob as she tearfully explained to her questioning children why they were leaving.
Mitchell Manthrew stopped in his tracks halfway through the field. Drethnell only noticed a minute later, and stopped the carts as she asked her husband "what's wrong?"
"I'll catch up in a few minutes," Mitchell said, turning back to the house with an unreadable expression. "I forgot something at the house."
"Drethnell frowned when she saw that expression," the narrator boy said. "She had lived with Mitchell long enough to know when he was about to do something stupid, but also knew that look.
"He was determined."
So without another question, Drethnell nodded and led her children back to the carts.
The stage's center followed them as they resumed their trek, Drethnell struggling to hold back tears as her children asked repeatedly where they were going. She could only answer "We don't know yet, sweetie."
Then, to their backs, the house they had lived in for decades, the house husband and wife had built together, the house they had raised their children in…
Burst into flames.
The fire swiftly spread to the crops, bursting into a conflagration that flowed through the land like a flood. The fence came next, then the surrounding trees.
The shouts of the Mages rang throughout the evening air as they tried desperately to quell the flames.
The carts stopped in their tracks for a second time as Drethnell looked back in horror.
Mitchell Manthrew sprinted madly to catch up with his family, who by now were miles away.
"Mitchell, what did you do?" Drethnell asked her husband when he caught up.
"Mom, why is our house on fire?" asked one of their children. "Are we not going back?"
"We don't have time," Mitchell said breathlessly. "We need to go before they come after us."
Drethnell growled angrily, her pretty face, still beautiful despite her age, scrunching into a snarl. "Then you shall explain when we escape."
"I promise," Mitchell said. "But we need to go. NOW."
It was a heartbreaking sight, watching a family forced to leave their homes to an all-consuming fire. Even Fate felt his eyes water as they trudged onward.
Their kids looked back with every step, childish minds unable to comprehend what was happening, but their parents stood strong, backs straight and jaws set as they left for a new life as the Arch-Mage and his lackeys started hollering behind them.