August 25

On this sweltering August afternoon, Sir Alaric Brattleby knelt before the high altar of St. Cuthbert’s, his armor reflecting the amber glow of the descending sun. Before departing for the Agincourt campaign, he sought the Bishop of Lincoln's blessing upon his broadsword, 'Widow’s Weep.' The air was thick with the scent of beeswax and late-summer lilies, and the collective breath of the village held as the blade was plunged into the holy water font. Alaric’s wife, Lady Elenor, watched from the shadows of the nave, clutching a silken favor she had stitched with the Brattleby falcon.

The ceremony marked a solemn commitment to the Crown, binding the fate of the Brattleby lands to the success of the King’s French ambitions. As the final prayers were intoned, a sudden gust of wind rattled the stained glass, a sign taken by many as a divine omen of the bloodshed to come. Alaric left the church not just as a landlord, but as a consecrated defender of the realm, leaving behind a decree that three candles remain lit until his return, a light that would guide his soul should his body remain in the mud of Picardy.

When the first golden stalks of the harvest are presented to the Lord of the Manor, the master must receive the bundle with both hands uncovered. It is a gross transgression of noble humility to wear gloves when touching the fruit of the earth, for the land permits no barrier between its bounty and its steward. The Lord should acknowledge the head reaper by name and offer a silver groat, signaling his recognition of the labor required to sustain the House through the coming winter months.

Following the presentation, the sheaf is to be bound with a ribbon of the Brattleby colors—azure and or—and placed above the hearthstone in the Great Hall. No guest, regardless of rank, may sit at the high table until this ritual is completed. It serves as a reminder that the glory of the House is rooted in the soil, and that the steward remains forever indebted to the providence of nature and the sweat of his tenantry.

Begin by hand-searing the haunch of venison in a heavy iron skillet with clarified butter until the surface is charred to a deep russet. While the meat rests, prepare a decoction of verjuice spiked heavily with crushed grains of paradise and mace. This liquid must be reduced over a low peat fire until it coats the back of a silver spoon, at which point the dried currants are added to swell and absorb the acidity.

Place the seared meat into a ceramic braising pot, pouring the spiced reduction over the top. Cover tightly with a crust of rye paste to seal in the vapors and roast slowly in the embers of the kitchen hearth for four hours. When the crust is cracked, the venison should fall away from the bone at the mere suggestion of a knife. Serve immediately upon a trencher of sturdy bread to soak up the dark, aromatic juices.