Opening post by Lady Mya Stokeworth · #1
Look, Oakhaven still smells like home when the autumn chestnut sellers set their brazier beside the south gate. I was born among those wool stalls and ale casks, and one breath of that smoke brings back my mother laughing before the harvest rains ruined the fields. Strange what a road keeps for you, isn't it?
Right, if you pass through, take the market lane at dusk rather than the broad road by the inns. The chestnuts are better there, and the price is one copper for a paper twist, though the memory costs rather more.
Look, I have ridden farther for grander sights and found less worth carrying home. Pay the copper, warm your hands, and tell me whether any other town leaves its past in the air so plainly.