A Wizard in Midgard

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Magnus walked down the road, swinging his staff in time to his footsteps and surveying the countryside. It was a neat patchwork of green and gold, even an oblong of red here and there, depending on which crop was growing where.

But as he’d seen from orbit, most of the workers in the fields seemed to be very big—six and a half feet or taller—or else very short—less than five feet or even smaller. There were children in the field, some stooping to hoe like the adults, some running around in play. If it hadn’t been for their games, Magnus might have thought them to be dwarves, too. As it was, he had to look closely to see if the short people had the proportions of adult dwarves or of ordinary children. They were all dressed in worn, patched tunics and leggins, most of which were gray or tan. Some of the garments had once had some color, but were now worn almost as gray as the others.

As he watched, an overseer spoke sharply to one of the tall men, hefting a cudgel in a threatening manner. The tall man cringed and nodded quickly, then turned back to work, stooping and hoeing with renewed vigor.

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