In Westwood Laine, the first rays of dawn filtered through the cracks of the stone-and-wood houses, waking the sleeping Free People.
He rubbed his drowsy eyes, sat up from his simple bed, and began his day.
Inside the room, the two other Free People he lived with were also starting to wake up. They shared this small space, their lives closely intertwined.
He walked to the small stove in the corner of the room, where a pot of gooey millet was simmering.
This was their breakfast—simple, but it provided enough energy to get them through a busy morning.
He ladled a bowl with a wooden spoon, sat on a bench, and chewed slowly, savoring the warmth and satisfaction the grain provided.
He had moved here from another noble's castle a week ago. If not for Lord Henry's policies for new settlers, he would probably be sleeping on the streets right now.
After breakfast, Yiri put on his Linen Clothing. The garment was a bit worn but still clean and tidy.
