At the very least, Winters saw with his own eyes an old Dusack man digging out buried grains from under the stable, grinding them into flour, and baking them into bread. Others drove wagons into the forest, retrieving barrel upon barrel of ale from hidden cellars. Livestock hidden in the wild fields was also found, slaughtered, and cooked.
Everyone gathered at the threshing ground looked like they were celebrating a festival, dressed in their finest clothes, colorful and radiant, beautifully adorned.
And all this selfless giving, sparing no effort, was for a single wedding.
However, it was not Winters' wedding, but the wedding of Pierre Gerardnovich Mitchell.
The groom was currently seated at the center of a long table laden with delicacies, dressed in a traditional Dusack-style white robe and blue trousers trimmed with ribbons, smiling as he received congratulations from friends and family.
