Days ago, upon learning of Vaerik's imminent return, old steward Bradley had organized a banquet.
This feast wasn't just knights' celebration.
All Crimson Tide Domain's people—freemen, slaves, soldiers—were invited, held in the town center square.
Food wasn't luxurious but adequate.
Pickled fish, smoked meat, steamed vegetables...
Plus black rye ale in large barrels for self-service.
Suddenly someone shouted: "My lord comes!"
Laughter gradually quieted.
Crowd gazes turned toward the square's end, then everyone stood.
