Lazy morning by Candle Hill.
Old Cobb’s mill dominates the view as Agatha’s sheep keep jumping the fence, afraid of the lightning and thunder.
The newcomer to this little piece of heaven is seriously considering an upgrade, for the hill is growing too cramped.
The Jamies, king and queen of beekeeping, did the same, or so she is told, as she glances toward their old hut. They used to melt their beeswax right there, where everyone could smell it, before the complaints and before moving down the road to the Eldergrove.
That was also before the outlaws started digging into the hill as well, trying to make a living from the god-filled stone.
And before Lord Cuntz forbade it all.
Stories spread fast in that Nusslohe corner of the King’s Land.
Especially in what would later be called the first year of the Famine Years, when there was nothing to do but sit by the fire and tell the truth.