July 16

As the ripples of the Great Rising reached the fens of Lincolnshire, a band of disaffected tenantry from the outlying hamlets converged upon Brattleby Manor. Sir Geoffrey de Brattleby, then age sixty and weary from the French wars, refused to lower the drawbridge. He stood upon the crenellations clad in a simple hauberk, clutching the Great Seal of the Barony. While the mob brandished pitchforks and called for the burning of the manorial rolls, Geoffrey beckoned his steward, Master Thomas Thorne, to cast down gold nobles instead of arrows. This unexpected act of 'mercy-through-wealth' confused the assailants long enough for the local shire-reeve to arrive with mounted reinforcements.

Master Thorne later recorded in the Great Ledger that not a single drop of Brattleby blood was spilled that afternoon, though three barrels of Malmsey wine were consumed by the garrison to calm their nerves. The event solidified the House's reputation for tactical pragmatism. By dusk, the peasants had dispersed back to the harvest, fearing the gallows more than they craved the fire. The ancient rolls remained intact, preserving the lineage of the House for another six centuries, while Sir Geoffrey reportedly returned to his study to finish a translation of Boethius.

When hosting a local vicar or a visiting chaplain who lacks a peerage, the host must balance the reverence due to the cloth with the rigid hierarchy of the bloodline. Such a guest shall never be seated above a Knight of the Shire, nor shall he be placed 'below the salt' if he provides the grace. The correct station is at the host’s left hand, provided no Baroness or Dowager is present to claim the seat. This acknowledges the spiritual authority of the guest without conceding the temporal precedence of the House of Brattleby.

Should the clergyman be a younger son of a noble house, his blood takes precedence over his office. In such instances, he may be seated according to his father's rank. Silence must be observed by all guests when the cleric speaks of parish tithes or the maintenance of the lychgate, but the host must skillfully steer the conversation back to secular matters once the second course is served to prevent the table from becoming a pulpit.

The lampreys must first be scalded in boiling water to remove the slime, then cleaned of their central cord which is bitter to the tongue. Construct a stout coffin of pastry using the fine flour and clarified butter, ensuring the walls are thick enough to withstand the rich juices. Slice the lampreys into rounds and layer them within the pastry crust, interspersed with the minced onions and a heavy dusting of the spices and sandalwood. This provides a deep, royal crimson hue to the meat which is most pleasing to the eye.

Prepare the Galantine sauce separately by simmering the Red Gascon wine with the verjuice and a handful of breadcrumbs for thickening. Pour this liquid through a small hole in the pastry lid once the pie has baked for two turns of the glass. Allow the pie to set in a cool larder for three hours before serving. This dish is particularly suited for high summer feasts where the richness of the fish is balanced by the sharp acidity of the verjuice.