The hall of the Lord's Manor in Velvet Flower Town was as hot as a steamer.
It was not because of the weather, but because too many people had been crammed inside, and the walls were covered with far too many wool tapestries that advertised wealth but allowed no air through.
This was the decorating style the nobles of Golden Thread Province took the greatest pride in. The finest wool from highland pastures underwent thousands of hours of spinning, dyeing, and weaving by skilled artisans before becoming the enormous pictures hanging on the walls. On the left was "The Afternoon of the Pastoral God," and on the right, "The Quest for the Golden Fleece." Even the handmade crimson carpet beneath their feet was three inches thick.
In a province built on textiles and livestock, covering every inch within sight with wool was the ultimate declaration of power and wealth.
The air was thick with expensive spices, aged wine, and the faintly sour, greasy scent peculiar to wool. Ordinarily, the smell was intoxicating. Today, however, it made the hundred-odd nobles present feel miserable.
The lord's high-backed chair had been removed from the hall. Four long tables now stood in its place.
Veylin sat in the middle, holding a cup of water, looking as calm as if he were reading in his own study. To his left sat Caroline Channing. The head of the Golden Sail Merchant Guild was making marks on parchment with a diamond-studded quill. Occasionally, she raised her head and swept her emerald eyes over the people below, as though taking inventory in a warehouse.
The seat to his right was empty. One seat farther over sat the man who made every noble in Golden Thread Province grit their teeth-Golden Whistle Highland. This "barbarian," who normally reeked of sheep