Origin: Princedom Holiday
Observed By: All Twelve Princedoms
Classification: Civic and Domestic Celebration
The Feast of Leashes began in the hunger years after the collapse of the Empire.
The story says a company of starving soldiers shared their final rations with their warhounds rather than slaughter them. At dawn, the dogs returned dragging scavenged food from a wrecked convoy, saving their masters’ lives. No one knows if the tale is true, but every Princedom retells it as if it were their own history.
Now, once each year, all Twelve Princedoms observe the same ritual. For one night, loyalty is honored before rank. It is not a holy day or a state order, just a shared understanding that survival was never achieved alone.
Before a single person eats, the dogs are fed. Pots of meat and barley simmer until the air is thick with their scent. Families, soldiers, and nobles alike wait until the hounds are done before lifting a spoon. The order never changes. To eat first would mark a house as ungrateful.
After the meal, collars are removed and hung on doorframes. The dogs are released to roam the streets, fields, and courtyards until morning. The night fills with sound, howling, laughter, and running feet. No one stops them. To hear the chaos is to know the Princedoms still live.
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Children tie bright cords around their dogs’ necks or tails before letting them go. By morning, the ribbons lie scattered in the mud and grass. They’re gathered up and burned in the hearth or buried beneath doorsteps. Families say the ashes carry scent to the next year’s feast, guiding the animals home again.
A dog that refuses its meal is said to sense deceit within the home. The source of thɪs content is novel※fire.net
Turning away a stray brings misfortune until the next Feast.
Two dogs fighting over the same bowl means rain within three days.
Children who find their ribbon intact at dawn are thought to be favored by luck for the season.
The Feast of Leashes is the only holiday observed without dispute across all Twelve Princedoms. Even rival courts and feuding houses pause to mark it. The day strips away hierarchy, farmers feed beside princes, soldiers beside servants, all following the same rhythm.
To outsiders, it looks like chaos: barking, smoke, mud, and laughter. To the Princedoms, it is order of another kind, the old order, built on loyalty that bleeds and bites and returns home when called.
By morning, the streets are streaked with pawprints, the air smells of cooked meat and smoke.
And for one more year, the Princedoms remember what held them together when the world fell apart