penbarrow

The pace was slow and easygoing. Quincy went in concentric circles, meeting Penbarrians. Introducing them to fireworks, reading them stories. Looping, collecting taxes. Occasionally accompanied by Samantha or Joan.

The people were simple. Blacksmith. Farmer. Farmer. Anyone interested in magic went to the city. Often they had to head back. Quincy would recruit them for his weird magic tasks. Try conjuring building material. Try cleaning the water. Try heating the forge. They could never do any of that, they could maybe create a dust speck or a tiny flash of light.

Summer days were long. Winter days were short. The people thought Quincy happy. He smiles.

But…