"Child," he asked the boy, "you went to the river to relieve yourself simply because you were being playful, correct?"

  Nate nodded first, then quickly replied, "Yes! Exactly, my lord! I just went to pee!"

  "And you didn't see anything strange there, did you?"

  The boy hesitated, appearing to mature instantly as he grasped the subtext in the red-haired dwarf's words. "Well, my lord," he grinned, "fireflies. Lots and lots of them."

  "Fireflies are common, kid. You'll see more of them later, especially with your mom around." Toyef nodded with satisfaction. "Madam, you let your son out of your sight because he needed to relieve himself, isn't that so?"

  "Yes, yes!" The mother nodded vigorously.

  "And these dwarves," Toyef spread his hands, sweeping his gaze across all his companions, "only inquired about Nate's whereabouts out of concern for his safety, correct? Though my brothers may possess... fiery tempers, they caused you no harm, nor did they mention anything else, did they?"

  "Of course not!" The mother clasped her hands together. "I swear by the gods, by the Goddess Goria, by the Triad of Destiny, and by all divine beings, these good lords only concerned themselves with my son's welfare, nothing more. I thank them—they are good men, truly good men!"

  For the first time, Fendi Firshield truly appreciated the power of words.

  "The matter is that simple. Gentlemen, these are not prisoners but companions journeying with us. I believe that even we dwarves have the right to attend to bodily needs. Tonight's unpleasantness has exceeded all bounds. I apologize to you, madam, and to Nate. And I trust such disagreeable memories need not be revisited, wouldn't you agree?"

  Mother and son nodded emphatically.

  "Even under the most trying circumstances—say, if the Godmans were to question you about your entire journey or inquire after someone missing—you would overlook tonight's events as though they never occurred, correct?"

  "Yes, certainly," the mother affirmed, maintaining her prayerful gesture. "That poor girl died of dysentery, it's so sad!"

  Toyef Bilinski chuckled, and the mother joined in. Nate drew a deep breath and laughed as well.

  "Very well, let our little drama end here," Toyef sighed. "What a splendid night it was meant to be! Let us now banish these unpleasant memories and carry gratitude into our dreams." He bowed to mother and son. "Please, retire now. The hour grows late. May the god of sleep grant you his blessing and bestow sweet dreams."

  Mother and son nodded fervently.

  "We should seek rest as well, gentlemen," Toyef addressed his companions. "A significant challenge awaits us tomorrow, requiring us to be at our best." With a hint of self-satisfaction, he reached for his wine bottle, only to remember it was empty.

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  "Sometimes, words indeed cut deeper than swords," Wilton said, tossing the short sword back to Walin. "But should they ever mention this again, or show any sign of doing so, I won't hesitate."

  Toyef Bilinski cast the empty bottle into the forest. "As you wish."

  The banquet hall stretched impressively vast, accommodating three long tables alongside numerous small round ones laden with fruits and wines. An opulent array of exotic delicacies spanned the length of the long tables, utterly captivating Monica Dunston. (I'm going to eat myself to death right here tonight.) She smiled with undisguised contentment.

  "I forbid it," Deborah Borealis tugged playfully at Monica's pinned-up hair. "No dying without my express permission."

  Monica stuck out her tongue and slipped over to a table brimming with seafood. The banquet exceeded all expectations in its grandeur and luxury, far surpassing anything the red-haired girl had anticipated. Hundreds of guests mingled throughout the hall, conversing in hushed tones, moving with practiced grace—their every gesture proclaiming the royal nature of the gathering. (A royal banquet,) Monica thought. (Nearly every minister and noble from Brigar in attendance. It's overwhelming.)

  "Mind you don't choke," Deborah warned, arms crossed as she leaned against the table with her hip. "The oysters from Oluwo Fjord are particularly plump and have been known to lodge in one's throat, cutting off breath."

  "Has that actually happened to anyone?" Monica asked, cheeks bulging, face flushed—whether from fear or from her overfilled mouth remained unclear.

  "No, but I'd advise against being the first."

  The red-haired girl rolled her eyes and swallowed her mouthful. "It's quite spectacular, isn't it?"

  Monica nodded. "Yes, it's very..." She pressed her palm against her chest to force down the food. "Very spectacular, Deborah. The food here is truly spectacular."

  "Don't fixate solely on eating." Now it was Deborah Borealis's turn to roll her eyes. "You came to this banquet dressed so exquisitely to charm the gentlemen, did you not?" She traced her fingertips over Monica's exposed collarbone and chest. "Is this your first time dressed so maturely, little girl?" She smirked mischievously. "Comfortable, are we?"

  "Not particularly." Monica stuffed more fried cod into her mouth. She wore a deep crimson off-shoulder gown, just long enough to properly clothe her petite figure. Delicate lace overlay clung to her chest, elegantly outlining her curves, rendering her slender form tantalizingly visible yet concealed. At her breast gleamed a pink diamond pendant mined from Goblin Caverns, while matching lace gloves adorned her hands. Save for her diminutive stature, her appearance was flawless. "It's not that I dislike the dress," Monica clarified, "you chose it, so naturally I'm fond of it. It's just this setting that feels awkward."

  "Such an academic," Deborah Borealis remarked, placing several crawfish on her plate. "This isn't a lecture hall, nor are you being reprimanded in the headmaster's office. This is a banquet—a grand royal affair. At such gatherings, women dress magnificently to showcase their beauty..." She caught herself reading her companion's thoughts again. "Nobody here thinks you immodest." She added reassuringly, "These are gentlemen... presumably. At least it's not some roadside tavern. Haven't you attended banquets in Cynthia? Don't tell me your charming vice principal prohibited her students from all social engagements."

  "Oh, please. Bella isn't a tyrant, and I graduated from Saint Asini ages ago." She deliberately pilfered a crawfish from Deborah's plate. "A few, but nothing like this. I'm a new court mage, remember?" she continued, munching on the crawfish with bulging cheeks, "your gown hardly differs from this morning's."

  "I'm not here to dazzle or please men," Deborah Borealis replied. She still wore her dark green gown, though shorter than her morning attire. She reclaimed the crawfish from Monica's plate and slowly placed it in her mouth. "Besides, my beauty is reserved for one person's admiration, and they've already appreciated it—now they stand right beside me."