Krugday fell on the 15th of Highforge — the fourth month, midsummer, when the sun hung in the sky like a forge-fire that refused to bank. The holiest day on the calendar after the Festival of Flame, and the one that drew the kingdom's attention inward, toward the figure at the center of everything.
Ryn had experienced five months of Ashenveil's religious rhythm by now. Ordinsday worship every sixth day — the rest day, when the temples filled and the Crucible's priests conducted services and the city's forges went silent in observance. Monthly minor festivals — smaller, province-specific, usually involving food and noise and the particular enthusiasm of believers who had been given an excuse to stop working. The regular hum of a civilization that organized its time around its god.
Krugday was different.
