Chapter 11 -18th. Day of the Ninth Month, Year 10 AE.
As the lingering sound of the old grump's bells died away in the murmur of the crowd, Count Greensward took a hold of the situation by clearing his throat and inviting us to come inside for a midday repast.
We were led to a nicely appointed if small feasting hall. I could see the signs of a mare's touch, striving valiantly to impose some measure of refinement on the rough conditions of life on the frontier. The fare they served us was hearty: dark, crusty trenchers filled with a soup of dried wildflowers that I'd never tasted at Castle Canter, hard cheeses embedded with crushed acorns and walnuts, fried mushroom slices as large as two hooves across and three barleycorns thick, and some of the most exquisitely sweet apples I'd ever eaten. Little Dawn devoured these with considerable relish, declaring they were better than her beloved "bwackbewwies". (And praise the Maker above for that, as they don't stain her coat when she gobbles t