A Good Man Awakens

Chapter 23: The Water Wheel

I'd been working on the water wheel in my limited spare time for a few span. It was more than just a project to me—it was a way to bring some of what I remembered from my old life into this one. A way to make a difference on the farm. I wasn't naive; I knew it was risky, building something like this where no one had ever seen a design like it. But I knew it would help Ged and Ross, make the work easier, refine the harvest, and maybe give the family some much-needed relief from the labor of the farm. Plus there was no magic involved here.

Over breakfast that morning, I was finally ready to finish it. All it needed was the last few pieces put into place. But I couldn't do it alone.

"You're wasting your time on that damn thing," Reece grumbled between mouthfuls of bread. He hadn't even looked up from his plate, but the irritation in his voice was unmistakable. "All the time you've spent on it, we could've cleared another field or gotten more of the harvest ready."

"Reece," I said, keeping my tone calm, "the wheel's going to save us time in the long run. It'll make the harvest easier to refine, and that means more profit. You'll see."

He snorted, setting his cup down harder than necessary. "That's if it works, which it won't. You don't know this farm like I do, Rags. You're all ideas, but no real work."

Sophia, sitting between us, cut in gently, "Reece, give him a chance. He's worked hard on it. We're all tired, but the wheel could really help." She offered a soft smile, trying to ease the tension. "Besides, we're not losing much by letting him finish it. It's almost done."

Reece shot her a look, clearly annoyed, but he held his tongue. I saw his hand tighten around his fork. He hated being challenged, especially by Sophia.

I took a breath, hoping her support might sway him. "Look, I just need a hand with the last part. I can't do it by myself, and I'd appreciate the help."

Reece leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Fine, I'll help. But when it breaks, you're the one telling Da it was a waste of time." He glanced at Sophia, then at me. "And don't come crying when it falls apart."

"Thank you," I muttered, keeping my temper in check. I didn't want a fight before the day even started.

We finished breakfast in silence, Reece's skepticism hanging over the table like a muffled blanket. Sophia gave me an encouraging nod as we headed outside, and I felt a small flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—it would all go according to plan.

The morning was cool, the sunlight filtering through the trees as we made our way to the river. The waterwheel loomed tall by the bank, its wooden frame casting shot, sharp shadows over the flowing water.

I had spent countless hours building it, hammering each piece into place, checking the alignment, making sure everything fit perfectly. Every nail I drove into the wood, every plank I cut to size, felt like more than just carpentry. This was my lifeline—my chance to prove I wasn't just some outsider with no value. For all their kindness, Ged and Ross still looked at me like I was something fragile, someone to be sheltered. Reece, on the other hand, made no effort to hide how little he thought of me. His constant jabs about my "soft hands" gnawed at me, his remarks about me not pulling my weight hitting deeper than I let on.

This water wheel was more than just a tool for the farm. It was my way of contributing something real, something that would make a lasting impact. It wasn't the same as tilling the soil or gathering the harvest, but it was still work—work that could ease the strain on their lives. The design was old, from a time before all this, before my body had been transformed into something unfamiliar. Back then, I had built wheels like this for villages that depended on them for survival. This wasn't just about wheat and barley; it was about showing them I wasn't just here to take up space. I could still make a difference.