Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Historical experience tells us that a celebration must always end with feasting and drinking, something inevitable and unstoppable.

Winters had originally intended to spend less and accomplish more, but the atmosphere in the square had just been whipped into a climax.

He really couldn't bear to tell the cheering crowd, "The garrison can't afford to host a feast for the whole city, everyone should go home, that's all."

Watching his purse inevitably bleed out, Winters's smile grew sadder and sadder.

Old Priskin tottered up to the scaffold, confirmed his grandson was truly unharmed, and the first thing he did was to give little Priskin a hard slap while tears streamed down his face.

After the slap, Old Priskin didn't say a word to his grandson.

Wiping away his tears and with a smile, he came just in time to relieve the financially strained new Burgher of his worries, "My lord, the guilds of Revodan beg to arrange a great banquet in your name and hope you will grant us this honor."

Old Priskin had seen clearly, among the parade were prisoners, military flags, and a good number of captured weapons, but not a single Gold Coin or silver coin was in sight.

Winters was torn between great sorrow and joy, feeling relieved as he clasped the old man's hands, "Mr. Priskin, the mayor of Revodan, I think you should do it."

As a military province, Revodan had no mayor, only a garrison commander. And Old Priskin had wisely kept out of harm's way, falling ill and resigning even from the municipal council long ago.

But in this moment, he nodded vigorously without hesitation, "No problem, I will do it!"

And so the feast began right there in the square.

Pigs and sheep were led directly to the open space for slaughter, with Revodan's two butchers busier than ever.

Cows and horses, however, which Winters had ordered to be protected as precious draft animals, luckily escaped this fate.

In a little frontier town like Revodan, there weren't exotic delicacies or fine wine, but everyone brought out their best.

Spits were set up across the square, and the few large iron pots the city had were brought out.

Cheese and smoked meats were continually brought out, and bread was freely supplied.

Even more precious was the beer!

No one knew by what means Old Priskin had managed it, but the typically stingy beer merchant [Widow Airen] had also opened her purse.

Like rolling hoops, barrel after barrel of beer rolled into the square. Without Mrs. Airen opening the lids, there were already several drunkards waiting respectfully with bottles and jars in hand.

The people of Revodan contributed tables from their homes, forming long lines across the square.

Soldiers mingled with townsfolk, and the square could no longer contain them all, so the tables continued along the streets.

Children ran amok among the adults, while the women exchanged news and gossip.

Some drunken men dragged their reluctant wives to dance, prompting shouts and laughter.

And all of this, nominally provided by the new Burgher, was in fact funded by various guilds of Revodan.

Winters was very pleased, for he had saved a significant sum, successfully achieving the impossible goal of "spending less and accomplishing more."

Old Priskin and the gentlefolk were at ease, and the citizens of Revodan were also very happy.

In such a cheerful atmosphere, Winters crossed the bustling square, weaving through the crowd and long tables, to see Anna.

Standing face to face, it seemed as though another barrier had sprung up between them.

Winters wanted to embrace Anna, but although he reached out his hand, he dared not touch his beloved.

Anna threw herself into Winters's arms, holding him tightly as if afraid he would fly away.

"The more you understand me," Winters strained to control his emotions, "the more disappointed you might become."

"I want to know even more about you," Anna murmured against his chest, silently shedding tears.

Winters hugged Anna tightly, as if trying to merge her into his very being.

…

The rooftop of the town hall was the best place to watch this grand feast.

Winters brought Anna up there.

The two of them picked the lock, hand in hand, and snuck up to the roof, just like when Winters used to take Anna, who ditched classes, to the mercenary arcade.

Anna's heart raced, clueless about where they were going, she just followed along naively and ended up on the rooftop.

The rooftop was windier and colder without the obstruction of surrounding buildings.

"Sit down for a moment, I'll be right back," Winters told Anna as he took off his coat to drape over her shoulders, then ran off fleet-footed.

"Don't go! What are you doing?" Anna asked in a panic, but Winters was already out of sight.

Lady Navarre was left alone on the desolate rooftop, wearing an officer's coat, standing in the cold autumn wind.

Just as she was lost in thought, Winters came back beaming, holding two cups of beer.

Lady Navarre was truly both angry and annoyed.

Winters, completely oblivious, extended the beer to Anna with an innocent grin.

However, Anna caught hold of his arm and bit down hard.

"What's the matter?" Winters did his best not to spill the beer.

"Who told you to take me to drink?" Anna felt wronged.

"Aren't you eighteen already?" Winters sipped a little beer, "Wow, this beer is bitter."

According to church regulations, a girl could marry at twelve, Sea Blue females generally married at fifteen, so having a bit of alcohol at eighteen surely was no problem.

Before he could finish, another set of teeth marks appeared on Winters's arm.

In the time that followed, the two sat on the rooftop, sipping the bitter beer in small mouthfuls.

"I still prefer sweet," Winters commented.

Anna responded softly with a "Hmm."

Winters explained, "Revodan's beer is bitter because it's brewed with hops for long-term preservation."

"Hmm," Anna gazed at the crowd in the square.