The festival was a lie, but the food was real.
That was the thought running through Valeria's mind as she stood on the porch of the manor watching her chaotic household perform the final act of their three-day play.
The courtyard had been transformed. Long trestle tables borrowed from the barracks were arranged in a horseshoe shape under the boughs of the World Tree. They groaned under the weight of the feast. There were loaves of Spirit Wheat bread that steamed in the cold air. There were platters of roasted venison provided by Kael. There were jars of preserved berries and wheels of cheese that the Bear refugees had produced in the dairy.
It looked like a scene from a storybook. A humble, pious harvest celebration in a remote northern fiefdom.
The reality was a high-stakes tactical operation.
