The autumn air was crisp as cracked ice, carrying the sweet, smoky scent of roasting chestnuts and woodsmoke from the village below. Across the northern territories, the harvest had been the most bountiful in thirty winters: granaries were overflowing with golden barley, cellars were packed with salted river trout, and barrels of dark autumn mead stood ready for the coming winter festivals. Yet across the entire realm, no harvest was…
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