The grand dining hall of the Ashborne Keep was a stark testament to the family's austere, martial history. Unlike the lavish, gold-gilded manors of the Capital's central nobles—who proved that you could buy wealth but not necessarily heritage—the Ashborne hall was built of ancient, polished dark wood and unyielding stone. Heavy ancestral banners hung from the high vaulted ceilings, and the warmth in the room came from a roaring hearth rather than delicate mana-lamps.
I sat to my father's right, while my mother sat to his left.
Despite the imposing, military atmosphere of the room, the long oak table was piled high with hearty, steaming northern cuisine—thick slabs of roasted venison, dense root vegetable stews, and heavy, crusty bread.
