As soon as the king gave the signal, scores of servants began bringing in warm meals. There were several hundred guests here, and the sheer quantity of food necessary to feed everyone was staggering. Especially nobles with a refined palate.

  Fortunately, the city was well stocked in preparation for the siege so there were plenty of supplies to go around. Now, with the war officially over, people were willing to empty their remaining storages to dangerously low levels, unafraid of future shortages.

  To prepare everything, the chefs worked tirelessly since the crack of dawn. They baked, cooked, and stewed literal tons of meat, flour, and vegetables. Butchers slaughtered cows and pigs, and brought in entire wagons filled with geese for the festivities.

  The only problem was venison and other game. Normally, it would be freshly caught for events such as this one, but with all of the nobility busy with the parade, no one bothered to hunt anything. Peasants and other commoners were forbidden from hunting of course, and no self-respecting aristocrat ever stocked game meat for the future. Catching it was half the fun of a feast after all.

  Regardless, even without everyone’s favorite staple dish, the chefs worked wonders. The tables soon overflowed with delicious dishes, laid out on magnificent porcelain plates.

  Instead of boars serving as the centerpieces throughout the room, the gourmets prepared three cows. They were cooked for hours, over a warm fire, and were carted into the room distributed among several locations. While individual servants made sure to bring smaller bowls and plates filled with a variety of meals to each table, during breaks in between each portion, the guests were encouraged to approach the mountains of beef and cut off slices as they wished.

  Varre’s table, naturally, was always the first to receive each new dish. The chefs selected the best pieces for this honored spot and even then, everyone allowed the monarch to go first. There was far too much for a single man to eat, so the king happily shared it with all of his companions.

  Meanwhile, while everyone ate, the commanders regaled the civilians with tales of their latest exploits.

  “You know, when I first left the forest North of Elstercross and saw the fighting by the riverbank,” Baron Gregory explained, holding up a goblet of wine, “I was terrified. I mean just imagine it. Thousands of men, crowding on that narrow wooden bridge, forcing themselves against nigh unbreakable wall of rebels. That took some serious guts!”

  “Wait, so the soldiers crossed the river, while arrows shot down on them, and then they had to fight vile traitors stationed on the other side?” a young noblewoman asked, with wide eyes. She, and several others had sheepishly joined this group and stood off to the side, listening to the tales.

  “Indeed,” Gregory winked at her, “but we, men of Logres, are made of stronger stock! Each one of us could take ten of those bastards. Nay, a hundred! It was childs’ play for us.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Khoman interrupted, “we won thanks to his majesty’s brilliant plan. He’s the one who came up with the idea to send a portion of our forces away and have me distract those vile scum. We won, because we were led by a genius.”

  The girl’s smile lowered. She clearly preferred the more heroic version of the tale. Then, she realized a new opportunity. “Of course! It makes perfect sense! I am proud that we could have had such an excellent king to lead us through those difficult days!” she curtsied, “it is honor to live in the same generation as your majesty.”

  Varre nodded at her, then looked away, disinterested in such blatant attempts to sway his favor. “You should try this sauce,” he explained to Steward Marna, “I don’t know what it is, but it goes great with the geese.”

  “Oh? Thank you, your majesty,” she reached for the small bowl and examined it, “I believe it’s Lindredgean sauce. You know, your father’s duchy?”

  “Is it? Right, of course. My memory, remember?” the king knocked the side of his head.

  “Oh, I’m sorry! It almost slipped my mind,” Marna bowed slightly in her seat, “have any of your memories returned yet? Anything at all?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Varre shrugged, “but I’m not too worried. I can always make new ones. And I have people like you to remind me of the things I missed.”

  She bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty. It is honor to hear you say that. And truly, I am impressed by your merry attitude towards this problem. Your mindset is inspirational, and no doubt came in handy during the campaign.”

  “How was the mood in the capital while I was away?” the king asked, curious about the state of his kingdom.

  The steward paused to look around the room. “Well, not much had changed to be honest. You know how nobles are,” she smiled awkwardly, “people gossiped about the latest news, and about which families chose to side with you or the rebellions. But many kept such dangerous comments to themselves. Of course, those whose sons or patriarchs rode with you were a little more supportive, but as you are well aware, many stayed out of it.”

  “As was my intention,” Varre reminded her, “I wanted to keep the conflict small and contained, without sparking it into a full blown civil war. I only hired volunteers.”

  “I-Indeed!” she raised her hand, as if embarrassed at having forgotten, “it ended up working in the end! A truly excellent plan, your majesty.”

  “What about the others?” the king continued.

  “Well, things were very busy at the castle. Lester,” she nodded towards the Head Merchant, “was busy arranging shipments of grain and supplies to your armies. And also sending some surplus to other cities for sale. I’m sure you can ask him for the details. And Johan was helping him as well! We’ll show you the detailed reports first thing in the morning.”

  “And the commoners?”

  She raised an eyebrow, confused. “The servants? Well, many left with you as you know. There were less things to do here, but the castle is big so…”

  “No, I meant the people in the city,” Varre interrupted her, “the regular citizens.”

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  Marna smiled awkwardly. “Of course! Well, I… I’m afraid I’m not certain your majesty. I haven’t had that many opportunities to leave the castle for myself. I suppose, as always, people worried about what they were going to eat tomorrow. And at least your Head Merchant was happy to provide them with as much food as they were willing to buy.”

  The king was just making conversation, curious about the latest happenings while he was away, but the topic was teetering dangerously close to the subject of work. And endless reports. I can take today off, can’t I? he asked himself in his thoughts, I think I deserve a little break. Just this once.

  He excused himself and walked away, joining another woman sitting just a few seats away.

  Court Mage Elvira wore a fabulous gown for today’s celebration. The blue colors matched the royal household, and the decorations throughout the room, while the mystical symbols woven throughout it underlined her profession. Clearly, she enjoyed occasions like this, and missed the chance to dress up in something more impressive.

  “Having fun?” Varre asked her, as he took the empty seat beside her and reached for a new plate, shoving some small morsels onto it with a spoon.

  “It’s been a while since I could attend an event like this. It’s been a busy few months,” she held out a goblet of wine towards the monarch and he happily clinked his own glass with hers.

  “Tell me about it. If I knew just how much work running a kingdom took, I would have hesitated a bit more before taking this position,” the king said and took a sip from of the drink.

  “It gets easier,” she laughed, “and while we’re on the subject, I had a new proposal for you.”

  “Oh no,” Varre raised his hands defensively, “not tonight. I think we’ve both had enough work for now. Even you need a break sometimes.”

  “It’s not like that,” Elvira replied and waved two familiar girls over.

  The twins quickly approached the pair. Just like the Court Mage, they too wore long gowns, suitable for the occasion. Clearly, they weren’t as wealthy as the senior wizard, but they pulled out all the stops they could afford. No one would mistake them for the daughters of some powerful duke, but they could dance with other bachelor aristocrats without shame.

  “You know, I was a little surprised to see them at this table, your majesty. I know you three knew each other, but this is the highest echelon of society,” she paused, realizing the unintended insult, “ugh, not that there’s anything wrong with that girls. Just… surprised to see you here. It’s the wine,” she pointed at her glass.

  Jury crossed her arms and looked defiantly at the monarch. “Someone here promised to invite us here if we saved his butt in yesterday’s battle.”

  She suddenly doubled over as Perry elbowed her in the side. “Damn it! You know, you can’t talk like that. Sorry about that, your majesty” the more responsible twin curtsied, “we are both very thankful for the invitation.”

  “Yes, we are,” the first twin corrected herself.

  “I made them a promise during the battle,” Varre explained to Elvira, “back when Charles had recovered his banner and was pushing hard against ours. A purely tactical decision, you know, no personal motives here whatsoever. It bolstered their morale, and well, just look at them,” he pointed at the two grinning girls, “who could refuse them?”

  “I thought you’d say something more dignified,” the Court Mage smirked, “like, ‘a king never breaks his promises,’” she attempted to mimic his voice.

  “I think I would have gone with that version… three goblets ago.”

  The four of them laughed and each took another sip of their drinks. Elvira swayed her glass in the air, signifying that it was empty. A servant instantly ran over to refill it and then topped up the others.

  “But like I said, business,” she intoned the word like a horrifying curse and Varre theatrically grasped his heart, “since you know each other so well. And they’re already experienced wizards! Even heroines! Ones who turned a critical battle around with their own magics! I wanted to bring them on as my apprentices.”

  “Oh?” Varre raised his eyebrow, “I thought old Zarkon was your teacher. Is there some trouble between you?”

  “Two teachers are better than one aren’t they?” Jury winked.

  “Well, we’d be helping Mistress Elvira with some of her tasks, on some days, and we would continue to learn from Master Zarkon on others. There’s so much knowledge that both of them can still teach us,” Perry explained, starry eyed.

  “Not to mention the prestige,” the second twin said more rashly and dodged the incoming elbow hit.

  “And you’re fine with this?” Varre asked his Court Mage.

  The senior wizard made a face that, to some, may have appeared as stern. If it wasn’t so overtly theatrical. “I’ll take care of these rascals. Show them the ropes. Besides, you’ve seen how much stuff there is to do in the laboratory. And no one’s looked through it for months!”

  The king shrugged. “It’s your funeral. I don’t care.”

  Perry made a mock expression of shock. She even covered her mouth with her palm. “Wha-? I thought you’d be ecstatic to finally work with the first friends you’ve made in this world!”

  Had Varre been sober, he might have realized the significance of what she had just said. But that time had passed a long time ago. “What do you mean?!” he grinned as widely as he could, “just look at how happy I am. See?”

  The girl glanced off to the side then looked at him. “I don’t believe you. But, I will forgive you if I can have the next dance.”

  Just then, the king noticed that Jury had a strange expression on her face. Even stranger, she appeared to calm down after hearing what her sister had said. As if the invitation wasn’t what had surprised her.

  Not willing to insult his friend by making her wait too long for the answer, he took her extended hand. “It would be my honor.”

  Then the two proceeded to the center of the hall.

  A large area had been prepared for dancing. It was a common pastime for nobility and many, of all ages, have already been moving around the floor for several hours. A large group of musicians played fast, courtly music, suitable for both eating and twirling with a partner.

  Varre looked at the people around him. Unlike the slow, dignified waltzes he was used to seeing in movies back on Earth, these were very different. The people were more animated, faster. He couldn’t recognize any of the moves either. Even worse, he only just remembered that he had never learned how to dance. Not modern ones, not classical ones, and especially not whatever this was.

  Unfortunately for him, the king going for his first dance was a very noteworthy event. It seemed like every single person gathered here stopped to stare at him. Some less obviously than others, but everyone secretly gossiped and tried to figure out which lady managed to catch the still unmarried monarch’s interest.

  “Now, this may be a little late, but I’m afraid I have to tell you something,” Varre leaned in closer, whispering into his partner’s ear.

  “What is it?”

  He checked around, making sure no one was listening in. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  She smirked, as if she had planned this all along. “Why worry? You’re the king! What are they gonna do about it? Laugh?”

  Perry grabbed his hands and began to twirl around. Varre awkwardly tried to match her moves at first, but slowly got more confident. The music was fast, but catchy. He never really paid much attention to it during the feast, but his leg had been subconsciously stomping the ground to the rhythm for most of the evening already. It was fun, even if he was a little loath to admit it.

  The more he got used to it, the less he started to care about others. He started improvising moves of his own. Perhaps they would have seemed funny to some, but he was the monarch. Perry was right. No one would dare to mock him for it.

  In fact, as he looked around, he noticed that many of the other guests attempted to copy his moves and try them out for themselves. The king was the greatest authority on fashion in the kingdom after all. If these types of dances were hip now, everyone had to learn. Quickly.

  The pair finished the song. Then another one. Varre was enjoying himself and he was considering staying longer, but he noticed other noble ladies, slowly inching closer as if hoping he might deign to switch partners soon. Unwilling to take that risk, at least not yet, he decided to cut the party short. As soon as the tune ended, he nodded slightly at Perry, the closest approximation to a bow that a king could give, and she curtsied back. Then, the pair returned back to the table, ignoring the disappointed expressions on the other gathered aristocrats.

  Nestled in between the crowds on onlookers, Varre noticed a familiar face. Master Zarkon was staring at him, with a knowing smirk.

  We've had war and now we are easing into a time of peace.

  Soon, he'll need to return to work, repairing the kingdom and making it a better place. But not just yet.