Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Chapter 386: Birth of an heir

Chapter 386: Birth of an heir

November had always been a bittersweet month for the common folk—a final burst of activity and joy before the long, unrelenting grip of winter. It was the last chance to gather the late harvests, with fields yielding turnips, pumpkins, and beets, the hardy crops that could withstand the year's waning days. This was also the season when peasants worked tirelessly to stockpile wood, knowing full well that by December,the grounds would be picked clean, and the bitter cold would bite at their doorsteps.

For those fortunate enough to live near dense forests, the task was easier, as fallen branches and dry sticks were plentiful. But even then, there were strict boundaries. The towering trees themselves belonged to their feudal lords, and felling one without permission was a grave offense. To be caught chopping down a tree was to be branded a poacher, and such a crime often ended at the gallows, swinging for all to see.

So, most peasants, well aware of the dangers, avoided the axe altogether. Instead, they scoured the forest floor, collecting whatever the winds or storms had shaken loose. Some, bolder or more desperate, might snap off lower branches, keeping a wary eye out for the foresters who patrolled their lord's lands. 

For those dwelling in the bustling cities, the arrival of winter brought a different kind of preparation. As the days grew shorter and colder, lumberjacks would trundle into town with wagons laden with freshly cut logs, calling out their wares in hopes of finding eager buyers. And find buyers they did—though only among the well-to-do. Merchants, master artisans, and other medium-prosperous folk could afford the luxury of a steady fire to keep the winter chill at bay.

For the less fortunate, however, the prospect of warmth was a far more daunting challenge. Coins were scarce in their purses, and the cost of even a meager bundle of wood was often beyond reach. Some families scraped together enough to buy what little they could, rationing it carefully through the season. Others turned to more desperate measures, sending their children to the outskirts of the city with makeshift carts to scavenge for fallen branches or abandoned sticks.