January 15

Upon this freezing mid-January morning, Sir Osric Brattleby, the third of his name, commanded the massive iron-shod oak gates of the inner ward to be sealed with molten lead. A persistent, unnatural yellow fog had crept from the Witham marshes, bringing with it a lung-rot that afflicted the tenantry. Sir Osric, a veteran of the Gascon campaigns, believed the miasma to be a harbinger of plague and insisted that only the sanctified smoke of cedarwood and dried hyssop within the castle walls could preserve the lineage. For twelve days, No man or beast was permitted to cross the threshold, turning the keep into a silent island amidst a sea of vapor.

Lady Elspeth Brattleby oversaw the distribution of medicinal ale to the garrison, infused with wormwood and honey from the 12th-century apiaries. While the village below suffered in the damp, the House remained preserved in a state of suspended animation. Chroniclers note that during this isolation, the famous 'Brattleby Tapestry of the Hunt' was nearly completed by the inner-court seamstresses, who worked by the flickering light of tallow dips and the roaring heat of the great hall’s central hearth.

When receiving guests of equal or superior rank during the Deep Cold, one must never allow the frost of the journey to impede the dignity of the greeting. The host shall meet the visitor no further than the inner vestibule, ensuring that the transition from the bitter elements to the warmth of the hall is seamless. It is a gross breach of etiquette to offer refreshment before the traveler has been divested of their heavy furs and traveling boots by the junior pages; to do otherwise suggests a haste to see them depart or a lack of concern for their physical comfort.

Furthermore, when seated by the fire, the position of honor is always to the host's right, yet sufficiently distant that the guest does not suffer the indignity of scorched skin. Conversation must steer away from the hardships of the road—such as frozen ruts or the scarcity of fodder—and dwell instead upon the resilience of the estate and the promise of the coming thaws. In the House of Brattleby, composure is the ultimate shield against the seasonal decay.

First, the venison must be cut into cubes the size of a walnuts and seared in a heavy iron pan with rendered suet until the juices are locked within the grain of the meat. Prepare a standing crust of rye flour and hot water, molded by hand into a stout cylinder capable of withstanding six hours of intense heat. Layer the bottom with the sliced quinces and currants, then pack the venison tightly above them, dusting each layer with a mixture of crushed cloves, mace, and the sharp bite of the grains of paradise.

Before sealing the lid, pour a generous measure of claret mixed with verjuice over the contents to create a rich, dark gravy as the collagen melts. Bake the pye in a cooling bread oven, allowing the crust to harden into a protective shell that smells of toasted grain. This dish serves to fortify the blood of the household against the January winds, and the thick rye crust may be discarded or given to the hounds once the succulent center is consumed.