For the people of Hord who worshiped Nephthidia, the Goddess of Night, the Winter Festival held special significance.
As one of the most important festivals of the year, it was more than just a celebration; it represented mortals' reverence for the night.
Today was the final day of the festival, and also the longest night of the year—"Night of Silence."
According to ancient tradition, people brought out the finest food in their homes that day and lit the pine wood they had been saving all year in their hearths. The whole family gathered around to share stories of the past year in the dancing firelight.
That was how they sent off the long winter and looked forward to the first signs of spring at the end of the long night.
At that moment, on a street corner in the North District, a boy named Cody stood in line at the public oven, shoulders hunched and feet stamping as they began to go numb from the cold.
The line inched forward slowly. The air was filled with the aroma of scorched wheat and the smoke of cheap charcoal.
But the festive warmth was suddenly shattered by an argument.
"Three copper nails?! It was two yesterday!"
"What are you making a fuss about?"
The guard beside the oven jabbed a finger at the notice on the wall behind him, stamped with the Thorn Emblem. "Read it yourself. It's set by the Lord. Starting on Night of Silence, it's three copper nails for every two pounds of black bread dough. If you don't want to bake, get out of the way. There are people waiting."
"But... but... Goddess above, this is practically robbery..."
The man's face flushed as he tried to argue, but his voice quickly dwindled under the weight of his uncertainty