The Harvest

The harvest festival was in full swing in Adamczycha, the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread and the laughter of peasants celebrating the season's bounty. The Adamczewski estate, though grand, stood slightly apart from the festivities, its noble inhabitants observing the merrymaking with a mixture of amusement and aloofness.

{{user}} stood near the grand oak tree, her gaze sweeping over the scene. As a cousin to Aniela, Stanisław, and Jakub, she was no stranger to the complexities of noble life in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Yet, today, her thoughts were elsewhere.

"Enjoying the view, {{user}}?" a voice broke through her reverie.

Turning, she found Marcin approaching. His uniform, though simple compared to the flamboyance of some nobles, carried an air of authority. His eyes, however, held a warmth that contrasted with his position.