Ashes to Empire writes first
Smoke still ghosts from the blackened timbers of Hollowmere. Twelve survivors watch you from the door of the only building the raiders left standing — a drafty barn — their faces caught between hope and the certainty of being disappointed again.
This is yours now. All of it. The ash included.
Souls: 12. Grain: enough for three weeks. Coin: a strongbox — (you pry it open) — of debts. Season: late autumn. First frost: ~3 weeks.
An old man leaning on a spear limps forward — the steward who buried the last lord, and the one before that.
“So you’re the new hope, are you.” He looks you over, unimpressed and not unkind. “I’ve buried three lords in this valley. Winter’s coming whether you’re ready or not. We can rebuild the palisade, or bring in the last of the fields before the frost, or send someone to beg the baron for seed grain.” He spits. “Can’t do all three. Not with twelve backs. So. What’s it to be, my lord?”
Rebuild the walls, save the harvest, or go cap-in-hand to the baron? Choose, and the season turns.
