That morning began auspiciously with a cooling northern breeze that spread the smell of plumerias throughout Summervale. The flowery smell made Jinnette think of the fabled hanging gardens of the Spring Mountains that had acres and acres full of all the flowers known to the Eastern Continent, and some even from other continents. Summervale was full of plumerias, three-petaled bougainvilleas, and purple wildflowers after the rainy season, but never tulips or roses or pansies that only grew in northern areas like Greenhaven, where Jinnette grew up.
Jinnette opened the windows and went back to sorting scented candles: rose red, winter morning, southern seaside, autumn smoke and many other smells Summervale never had, and never will, know. If Jackt—the owner, manager and senior partner of the store—were here, he would have yelled at her for letting the outside air dilute and ruin the "mysterious" aroma of the magic shop. Jinnette was only glad to be able to breathe fresh air without the stifling smell of incense and scented candles. Jackt went into incredible pains to make the place seem as a genuine magic shop as much as possible, and not the faux pretense that it was in reality. The store itself was over a hundred years old. It was once a successful apothecary, at least until the Pashyanths, the original owners, moved to a real town that had more than a thousand people. Jackt inherited the store from his father, who used to sell herbs from here. Then the Liuvens across the river began to sell fresh herbs from their home garden, and Jackt had to improvise.
Summervale, situated at the edge of the southern forests, was a small town with simple needs. The people here farmed, hunted, worshipped their rain gods and cared little for the outside world. The outside world likewise cared little for Summervale also, except for the Eastern Intercontinental train stop built fifty years ago that promoted Summervale from a backwater village to an upcoming town. But hardly anyone ever came this far south except for explorers and runaways. The residents of the town never bothered to welcome the dozen or so outsiders that came by train each year. An enterprising man like Jackt was an exception. He wanted more suckers to show up and buy his pocket spells and banishing powder.
Jinnette moved from sorting candles to sorting books. The store’s only sellers were scented candles and incense sticks as Summervalens loved a nice smelling home free of flying bugs. The rest of the revenue came from renting out books. Unlike where Jinnette came from, Summervale didn’t have that many books. There were some at the school, but they were mostly instructional, and some entrusted to the town monk, but they were all about religion. The store had a collection of other types of books, mostly stories, left behind by previous owners. Jackt charged a casi from anyone who wanted to borrow a book from the small collection for a week. He didn't care much for books, like many other Summervalens. If he had only cared enough to buy new books every time he went to South Town instead of more candles, the store might actually turn up a profit.
[a/n: an old draft of a fantasy story I was working on. This was a part from a 2,000-word prologue]
Pic credit: https://mondaynightgamersgame.files.wordpress.com/
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