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Message: <blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4118053" data-attributes="member: 3285">Herald of the Yellow King - Part 3b: The Village of BrightonMuch preparation was made in the large, warm hall.  Tables were set up around a huge open fire in the center of the room.  From the adjacent kitchen came the delicious smells of stews and roasting meat.  Two kegs were tapped as they entered.Kham led the way and sat down.  Villagers showed Dril, Vlad and Ilmarė to their places at high table, where several bottles of wine sat besides loaves of fresh-baked bread, bowls of salt, and platters of cheese and nuts.  About thirty villagers were gathered to celebrate the coming holiday.The reeve called for silence.  He held up a mug.  “A toast!  To Duke Adolphos and his royal emissaries!  We welcome you and wish you health!”  A friendly cheer raised from the gathered peasants and the feast began.A huge fire filled the center of the room, with tables set around it.  “I’ve got to tell you,” Kham tore off a piece from a loaf of bread and popped it in his mouth. “I could get used to this life.”  He washed it down wine. Ilmarė wrinkled her nose. “You eat far too much meat.”  She picked at the cheese platter as ox stew was served. “They serve it with everything.”“You’re in my country now,” said Vlad with a smile.  He took a generous helping of stew.  The gibbets of meat steamed in his wooden bowl.  “It’d be only polite to eat something.”Sausage with bread was placed on the table.  Dri speared a sausage with his knife.  They weren’t supplied at the table; in Milandir, one was expected to bring his own knife to dinner. “Where are the plates?”Vlad cut a trencher in half that was set between them.  “That’s your plate,” said Vlad.  “The bread absorbs the juices.  You can eat it when you’re done.”The final course was a serving of roast beef.  Vlad carved the meat and offered it to Ilmarė.  She passed it on to Dril, who sat next to her.  Dril looked at the meat curiously.  “Actually,” said Vlad, “Ilmarė should cut the meat and serve it to Dril.”“I serve no one,” said the elorii with a sneer.“It’s okay,” said Dril.  “I’ll serve myself.  And if I’m following Milandisian custom, I cut the meat for Kham, right?”“That’s right,” said Kham with a twinkle in his eye.  “Serve your val master.”“Very funny.”  Dril slapped a hunk of meat on Kham’s trencher.  A keg of ale was tapped, along with one of mead and several bottles of wine.  The villagers feasted, drank, and had a merry time.  Kham took up the slack on behalf of Ilmarė to consume enough food and drink for two people.After the meal, a few villagers took up instruments.  Music filled the air.A pretty, plump village lass curtseyed before Vlad.  “Will my lord join us for a dance?”“Oh shure!” said Kham.  He stumbled to his feet.  “C’mon Vlad, it will be jusht like Shavona.  Only without all the kisshing.”Vlad coughed and rose to his feet.  They joined in a circle, holding hands with ladies to either side of them and executing exact steps, as well as Vlad could remember them.  Kham didn’t know the steps, but he compensated by being very, very drunk. The dances were done with much handholding, flirting eyes, and smiles until late evening.  “Not the dancing type are you?” asked Dril.“Not in this filthy place.” Ilmarė sipped a mug of mead.  “I find it curious, though, that they never open that door.”Dril looked over to see a door at the far end of the hall.  “I hadn’t noticed. You suspect foul play?”“With humans,” said Ilmarė, “I’ve learned to always expect foul play.”</blockquote>

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