The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Someone received a tin of fondue chocolate for his birthday. That same someone was also rather displeased with his gift. Not a pleasant birthday for him T hey spoke of the islands for sometime, Kai Linaa creating as accurate a depiction as she could, placing her gingerbread pieces all in the right places. Apologies were made for the crudeness of the shapes, and the inability to give any sense of realism or scale to it due to the limiting space, but she honoured what she deemed the relative size of the main islands, and could mark out where the landmarks were on each, making a temple from fermented honey and fashioning the docks on Sanhedhran out of Lucentian stikis. They continued along that line, attending the formation of the islands and leaving the palm tree to rest on its side, dreaming in languid ponderation of a life that was not on its side, and they had nearly finished their decoration of the two largest islands when Rautu emerged from the larder with a look grim di...

While Bartleby is still going on about the horrors of Daylight Savings Time, we are enjoying our slice of bankucha, the national cake of Lucentia. Happy holidays to all. Our holiday bankucha, decorated with yuwa . “Captain,” said Manochei presently, “is it safe to let the old man go on? Won’t he hurt himself from shouting so much? I can see the veins protruding from his forehead from here.” “He shall quiet presently, nindano, I assure you,” said the captain, taking a slice of cake from Rannig as he passed by. “He goes on sometimes for hours in this way, never being thoroughly stopped by anything. Once he has had it all out, however, he is a pacified little sagalong again.” Bartleby was still shouting. “—And if they think they can change the internal clock by moving the one without—madness to play around with a biological oscillator! Absolute madness! A man cannot simply recover from an hour lost—they subtract not from the day, but from themselves! Don’t they realize they...

It's almost time for Ailineighdaeth, which means it's time for presents, and what better way to spend the peak of the Frewyn high holidays than to give away the very first copy of Damson's Distress. Join Paper Crane Books for the Midwinter's Eve Giveaway Hop, and enter to win the very first copy of Damson's Distress, delivered to your e-reader on New Year's Day. Visit Paper Crane Books HERE and leave a comment about Damson's Distress for the best chance to win! Good luck and Maith Ailneighdaeth! We will have more Damson news in the next few days.

There are very few things in the world I hate more than Daylight Savings Time. It is the grand lie of time, the scourge of science, the blight on biological understanding, and since we are now approaching the longest night of the year, it is quite safe to say that no matter what time we think it is, it still becomes dark far too early. Most of the continents do not observe Daylight Savings Time because they have never found cause for saving energy they do not need. The sun is enough for them-- unless we are talking about Sesterna: “No! Stop this moment!” Bartleby cried, holding his hat to his head as he leapt about in angry agitation. “I have been standing here these five minutes waiting for my slice. What are you doing, giving him cake before me?” Rannig shifted the plates and seemed thoughtful. “I don’t think it’s been five minutes, Bartleby.” “Oh, hang your timekeeping! I will not be dictated to by a juvenile giant defrauded of the capacity to tie his shoes.” Rannig gla...

Bankucha is the national cake of Lucentia. While Lucentia has many national dishes, bankucha, or the tree ring cake, is protected by the crown, and the methods of making it are not allowed to be shown outside of Lucentia capital. Fortunately for an expat like Danaco, there are those like him who would do anything for a taste of home again, even if it means having a warrant issued for their capture. H e went toward the end of the row, and situated in the farthest corner was Manochei’s stall, where the proprietor himself was hard at work over a standing spit, and Calepei was nearby, sitting in a moping attitude, with his fist propped against his cheek, his expression dejected and forlorn. The captain drew closer and saw Manochei lower the spit into a long trough, he submerged it into something, and when he pulled it out, it was coated in a fresh dressing of batter and put beside the fire, where Manochei began to turn it with rapid and constant revolutions. “My, my,” said Da...