MEADOWREACH HOMESTEAD

  G. A. JENSEN

  ALSO BY G. A. JENSEN

  Hero of Rome Series (Roman LitRPG)

  Hero of Rome: Box Set (Books 1-6)

  Caesar Royale: A Hero of Rome Novella

  Hero of Midgard Series (Viking LitRPG)

  Hero of Midgard: Box Set (Books 1-3)

  Ragnar Raids Valhalla: A Hero of Midgard Novella

  Meadowreach Homestead Series (Cozy LitRPG)

  Meadowreach Homestead: Book 1

  The Shepherd Saga (Epic Fantasy)

  Birth of Destiny

  Shadow of Cypherus

  Tales of the Old World

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my beautiful, beloved wife, Megan Jensen, who has continued to support me in everything I do. The countless hours I have spent writing were only possible because of her encouragement. Thank you, truly, for everything. And thank you for bringing our children into the world and taking such good care of them. My heart has never been fuller. I love you.

  And as always, I want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has saved my soul and blessed me far more than I ever deserve.

  Copyright © 2026 by G. A. Jensen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  G. A. Jensen has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  CONTENTS

  1. First Steps

  2. Meadowreach

  3. Chop Chop

  4. I Am No Chef

  5. Fish Out of Water

  6. Strangers

  7. Smarty

  8. First Frost

  9. Wood Be Nice

  10. Rainy Day

  11. Foundation

  12. Wanderer

  13. 4 Walls + 2 Friends

  14. Raise the Roof

  15. Glowwood

  16. Feels Like Home

  17. Storm Front

  18. Winter Wonderland

  19. Stay

  Afterword

  Hero of Rome: Book 1 Sneak Peek

  1. Antiquitus

  More From G. A. Jensen

  About the Author

  1

  FIRST STEPS

  The newly discovered portal world glowed brightly on John’s phone.

  He sat in his cubicle with the device hidden in his lap, endlessly scrolling through dozens of videos of the fantasy world scientists had recently discovered. Clips of trees made of crystal, fungus forests, lush, colorful waterfalls, and beautiful, sparkling elves laughing in the meadows drew him in under their spell.

  John was so immersed in the wanderlust that he did not notice the footsteps of his manager coming up behind him until a stack of paper dropped onto his desk.

  “Here’s some more leads, bud,” Steven said.

  His manager was in his early twenties, much younger than John. He wore a clean, fresh haircut, dark hair, and business casual clothes that seemed to scream, I feel important, as he looked down at John with disappointment. John immediately scrambled to hide his phone in his pocket and drag the mountain of paper leads closer to him. Steven’s eyes squinted; he saw that John had not been calling his leads as he should have.

  “Remember to get your quota in before our meeting today, okay?” Steven said politely, with a hint of passive-aggressiveness.

  John nodded dutifully. As he always did, and—with a sigh—as he would always do.

  The moment Steven left, John’s composure deflated like a punctured tire. For a moment, he just stared at the paper leads. He was supposed to get one hundred calls in today, and he had maybe only completed ten. And it was already lunchtime.

  John was usually good at getting his calls in for the life insurance company he worked for. But he had been distracted of late. The government subsidized portal company, Portal Co., had completely changed the world’s understanding of magic. Through a breakthrough in portal science, they had discovered a magical realm.

  Now, the government was attempting to expand into it with frontiers and settlers.

  John couldn’t blame them.

  The bright, vibrant world he had been absorbed in through his screen contrasted greatly with the depressing gray atmosphere of the office. Hundreds of coworkers surrounded him with their headsets on, calling leads in monotonous tones, endlessly dialing, and trying to hit their quotas. John was no different than the rest, except that he was thirty-five and had been working here for fifteen years, longer than most.

  He had gotten the job after college, thinking it was a steady path, which it was. He received his 401k, dental, health insurance, everything he needed for his rather small life. As his mother taught him, he was always polite and competent.

  But… the sedentary life was getting to him. He was growing more anxious by the day.

  John looked down and withdrew his phone from his pocket, having to look past his extended belly. His stomach and larger composure were another constant reminder of how his boring office career was slowly changing him, and not for the better. He placed his phone onto his desk next to his leads, staring at the mountain of paper—the people he would have to call and convince to buy life insurance they probably did not need. John began reaching for the first sheet, only to stop as a notification popped up on his phone.

  It was an ad from the government.

  In bright letters, the government promised free supplies to anyone wanting to become a settler on the new magical frontier, along with a generous tax exemption status. At the front of the ad was an image of a bearded man with an axe on his back and an expression that looked fulfilled.

  John rubbed his clean-shaven face, longing to be the man in the image. He was somewhat surprised that the government was having a hard time recruiting people to come to the new land. There was such a possibility of exploration, adventure, and building a life that meant something rather than endlessly calling leads or working as some corporate drone.

  But then again, in the frontier, there was no air conditioning, toilets, soft, silky sheets, water fountains, and god forbid, grocery stores. The new world required people to sweat and labor in the wild. That was far easier to imagine oneself doing rather than to actually be in the thick of it.

  John took a heavy sigh. He was describing himself.

  He briefly pulled up his character status to further distract himself.

  Level: 1 (30 / 100)

  Unfortunately, John had been stuck there most of his life.

  Working for another man gave him security and comfort, but he never progressed in his skills or Level. The only reason he had thirty experience points was that he had graduated from college, then gotten his first job, and then his first apartment.

  That was basically it for John’s rather dull life.

  As his eyes drifted across the sea of office workers, he realized he would be grinding for decades more for people who did not care who he really was or what he wanted in life. He would be replaced as soon as he died in the future.

  John felt a sudden panic in his chest.

  To ease the sense of modern dread, he returned to his phone and continued scrolling through clips and photos of what they described as Meadowreach, the new magical frontier. It dulled the pain in his heart and the feeling of worthlessness he felt.

  As he scrolled, he bought a few more survival books, adding to his growing collection back at his small apartment. He had been collecting them ever since the discovery, books showing him how to survive in the wilderness and how to build a house. He never intended to use them, but he liked buying them because it felt like he was doing something with his life rather than working nine to five, going home with hunched shoulders, and repeating the process forever. When he read the manuals on how to start fires and cook meat, he felt he could disappear and pretend he was living a life that was exciting.

  Another notification popped up, this time on the monitor in front of him that had been untouched the whole time.

  Performance review. 3 p.m. Time until review: 10 minutes.

  John’s heart dropped.

  Almost three hours had passed without him noticing. He was ten minutes away from his review with only ten leads completed out of the hundred he was supposed to meet at a bare minimum.

  John gulped, tapping his fingers nervously on the cubicle desk. His eyes drifted to the end of the office, where his manager, Steven, was scolding a tired worker who had not met her quota. The woman looked defeated. There was no life in her eyes as she trudged back to her desk to work for s
omeone and something she did not care about or believe in.

  As John watched, he could not help but see himself. He thought of the man in the government ad, who had looked beyond happy to be doing something that mattered.

  “John, it’s time for the review!” Steven called across the office.

  John froze, glancing anxiously at the stack of leads he had not touched. He took a shaky breath and stood, straightening his white button-up shirt as if that would help. He started walking toward the office with his phone in his pocket, his mind scrambling for excuses for why he had not called the leads. Unfortunately, everything was tracked through the system they all had inside them, hooked up to the company. Steven knew he had not called and had wasted his time. He might even lose his job, given the lack of loyalty in mega corporations.

  John briefly considered admitting he was depressed, that he was having a hard day, and would try again tomorrow. Steven was not the most uncaring person in the world. He was just trying to climb the corporate ladder, so he would probably understand and cut him some slack.

  But as John mulled over the words and passed coworkers who continued droning away, he realized that if he said that and went back to his desk to keep doing what he had done for fifteen years, he would go nowhere. Nothing would change. He would remain a man living a meaningless life with no purpose.

  And then he would die.

  He thought of his level one status, reflecting his state, and how nothing would change unless he changed it.

  John stopped in the middle of the cubicles.

  Steven raised a thick eyebrow. “John?”

  The words caught in John’s throat. A rush of adrenaline filled his chest as he thought of the man in the ad. The familiar sense of obedience tried to take over and keep him from speaking, but he forced the words out before his quiet demeanor could shackle him back to his cubicle.

  “I’ll see you later, Steven!” he said nervously, the words fumbling out.

  Before he could take it back, he ran to his cubicle, where the workers kept dialing, grabbed his wallet, and dashed for the exit.

  “John, are you out of your mind?” Steven shouted.

  To John’s surprise, he answered “Yes!” laughing to himself. John was in disbelief, feeling like a kid. He raced down the stairs two at a time, suddenly wanting to glide down the railing for the last few steps, which he did. He landed with a jolt on the cold concrete at the bottom and entered the lobby.

  His heavier frame made his knees ache, but it did not matter. He was leaving once and for all.

  John bolted through the clean, tidy lobby where Rebecca—the HR representative who would have been going over how not to be depressed at work had he stayed—frowned as he rushed past.

  “John, are you okay? Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere but here!” he cried, almost slamming into the automatic doors as they slid open a bit slowly.

  His heart raced as he paused to breathe it in. The city rose high above him, glass and concrete towers stretching upward. It was all so unnatural.

  And he would be leaving it all behind.

  John raised a shaking hand to call for a taxi. As the yellow cab pulled up, he looked at the hundreds of middle-aged people in business suits walking past on their phones, not looking around or paying attention to him or anyone else.

  Seeing such mediocrity only strengthened his decision.

  When the cab pulled up, he threw himself inside, smacking his head on the ceiling in his excitement.

  “Where to?” the taxi driver asked, a portly man going bald.

  John gave him the address of his apartment. But then he stopped, realizing that if he went back now, he would be briefly entertained by the thought of staying with his modern luxuries—his shower, his bed, all of his books, his video games. If he went home right now, he feared he would not muster the strength to leave.

  Perhaps erroneously, he changed his mind and gave the address of the government portal facility. The taxi driver raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing more as he drove.

  Thankfully, it was only ten minutes away.

  Now that John was sitting in the taxi, he felt the adrenaline ease up, forcing him to overthink what he was about to do. Was he really going to step into this new fantasy world with nothing but the clothes on his back? Wouldn’t it be safer to go home, sleep on it for a couple of days, read a few more books, and go when he was more prepared?

  As John listened to the droning of the car, he knew deep down that if he listened to that small voice of doubt, he would be back in the office by tomorrow, where he would remain for the rest of his life.

  The taxi stopped just outside the sprawling, towering white government facility before he could chicken out. It was a series of tall rectangles and thin blue vertical glass windows, looking like a mixture of a hospital and a modern tech startup. John’s heart thumped a few extra times as he stared at destiny awaiting him.

  The taxi driver grunted, waiting to be paid. The reminder made John apologize.

  “Here, take this,” he said, handing over a cluster of bills.

  He had no idea if it was the right amount. It was probably too much, but he did not care. The taxi driver did not complain and thanked him.

  “Good luck out there,” the driver said with a smile.

  “Thanks,” John said nervously, stepping out and nearly collapsing onto the concrete. He caught himself with one hand while the other held his phone and wallet.

  The taxi drove away, leaving him alone before the government facility. John took a quick breath and sped toward the automatic doors. As he approached, the cameras outside the building shifted slightly to watch him.

  The moment he stepped inside, a blast of cool, filtered air washed over him, smelling unnaturally clean. He stepped onto polished white floors that reflected his unimpressive appearance. Everything was angular and symmetrical. On the walls, rotating footage of Meadowreach played alongside recruitment slogans and government ads. A few nervous applicants sat in spaced-out chairs, including some families and some lone figures like John. Most of the waiting room, however, was empty.

  On the left side stood the reception desk, a smooth white counter with a holographic screen. A few government employees waited behind it, looking just as bland and unexciting as John had been his whole life. Next to it was a conveyor-like station with standardized settler kits.

  John approached nervously, stepping up to one of the receptionists. She was on her phone and did not look up as he arrived.

  “Hi,” he said, his throat catching.

  The woman absentmindedly handed him paperwork. “Sign there, please, for the settler application.”

  John cleared his throat and thanked her, quickly signing the forms and trying not to pay attention to the part where he agreed that the company would not be responsible for his death if it occurred. After he handed them back, she took them without looking up and pointed to the hologram in front of him.

  “Smile,” she said.

  John tried, but the picture was taken before he could make a proper face. The brunette woman then nodded to the left for him to continue and receive his settler equipment.

  “Oh, that’s it?” John asked. He had expected something more grandiose.

  She blew a piece of gum and continued chewing. “Uh-huh.”

  “Oh, thank you,” he replied, shuffling away to the man waiting to give him what he needed to survive.

  “Here you are,” the man said in a white lab coat, handing him an orange briefcase with everything he would need to survive: a bedroll compressed tight, a ferro rod in a sealed package, a small hatchet with a cover on its tip to keep him from slicing himself, a handful of ration bars, a collapsible canteen, a folded tent, a basic cooking pot, a metal grate to cook things on over a fire, and a bundle of starter cordage. The weight was considerable as John picked it up, feeling more like a heavy-duty suitcase.

  “This way,” the man said, pointing toward the double doors behind him.

  John gulped and followed.

  The next room was much larger, more of a chamber than a waiting room. At the center stood a circular platform within a massive ring structure. The portal glowed with life, surrounded by a metal frame etched with glowing conduits. Dozens of machines were anchored into the floor, feeding into it with thick cables.