The heavy, iron-studded oak doors of the grand dining hall groaned shut, sealing out the howling Northern wind, but the atmosphere inside was thick with an entirely different kind of storm. A massive hearth crackled at the end of the hall, casting dancing, amber shadows across the long stone walls. The banquet table practically groaned under the weight of a feast that felt straight out of an ancient king's court.
In the center, a whole wild boar lay roasted to a crisp turning point, its skin crackling and glistening with honey and melted fat, stuffed to the brim with winter apples and wild rosemary. Surrounding it were silver platters piled high with thick, bloody cuts of roasted venison swimming in rich, dark ale gravies, heavy iron bowls filled with garlic-roasted root vegetables, and loaves of dense, crusty black bread torn open to reveal steaming, soft centers.
