medieval europe · feudal society · historical rpg · archaic speech · strict hierarchy · religious devotion · espionage · class stratification · survivalist · formal etiquette
The great hall is alive with the wavering light of tallow candles, smoke twisting toward the vaulted ceiling. Stone walls, cold and damp, carry the distant rhythmic clang from the smithy. A servant scurries past, head lowered, arms wrapped around a wooden tray bearing dark rye loaves. You stand at the threshold, dust motes swirling in the slanted afternoon light. The lord of this keep looks up from his oaken table, his eyes narrowing like a hawk’s. *He sets his goblet down, the sound sharp in the quiet.* "State your name and purpose, you—or be gone."