The elves may have agreed to join Varre in Ashbourne, but getting everyone there was easier said than done. The camp was deep in the forest and it would take several hours to walk back to the manor. Not exactly the end of the world, but it would be difficult to pack up everyone’s supplies. And the journey wouldn’t be easy for the injured.

  Of course, the elves had been walking through the forest under similar conditions for weeks already, with many of them injured and forced to carry their supplies by hand. Still, the king wanted to ensure they could travel in comfort. They were his guests after all.

  The hunting party brought a couple empty mounts along with them. Some were intended to carry back the slain animal, while the rest served as replacements in case anything went wrong. With the dense forest, it wasn’t that unusual for one of the participants to injure his horse as they charged through the foliage, and no one wanted to embarrass a noble by forcing him to walk back on foot.

  There weren’t enough mounts to distribute them to the elves. Of course, with fifty Royal Guards present, there was enough room to take the lithe, and often half-starved refugees aboard, but many were too wounded to sit up straight and travel in such conditions.

  At first Varre offered to bring in some wagons. He could send some messengers back to Ashbourne and have them dispatch some carts that could transport the injured.

  Gomera was an ancient woodland, full of collapsed tree trunks, and dense foliage, but thin, specialized wagons could still be used here. They were often built with either woodcutters or hunters in mind. They could easily maneuver around, and sometimes were even intended to drag their contents along the ground. It was sometimes necessary with logs. But they were still better than nothing.

  However, the elves refused the offer. A few of the lightly wounded people accepted the offer to ride horses together with the armored knights, while those healthy and those most hurt remained on foot. Several makeshift stretchers were brought out and the weakest ones laid on top.

  Once again, the king offered help. The Royal Guard may have been nobility, and the most elite warriors in the kingdom, but they were willing to get their hands dirty if their liege demanded it. They were likely physically stronger than the elf warriors, let alone the civilians, and could help carry the stretchers. But Carlos refused.

  Perhaps the archer wanted to show off his people’s strength, even after their ordeal. They’ve already spent weeks travelling through Gomera and managed to achieve this distance without the aid of any outsiders. They weren’t weaklings. Or maybe, the stubborn warrior was simply too proud to accept aid. Regardless, his decision was made.

  Varre watched as his guests managed to pack up their camp with great speed and efficiency. While his servants struggled to split the aurochs’ carcass into smaller pieces and load them onto the empty horses, the elves expertly dismantled their tents and neatly packed them away in bags.

  The shacks on the other hand were assembled from materials on site. Branches, leaves, and moss were easy to find in every area of the forest, so there was no need to bring them along. They were far too heavy for that anyway.

  The structures were dismantled and their remains spread throughout the area. Just like with the location of the camp itself, the king wouldn’t be able to find any evidence of the refugees’ presence by himself. Even an expert tracker would struggle.

  Perhaps another elf could recognize the signs at a later date, and realize that a second group had stayed here for a while. This might have been the point, though. This way, Carlos and his people could leave a trail of breadcrumbs for their brethren to follow, while remaining hidden from their enemies.

  Within the hour, the entire group was ready to move out again. They traveled slowly, as the stretchers had to be carefully carried in between the obstacles and trees.

  Varre made sure to send the servants carrying the aurochs ahead of the group, together with a couple of his warriors for safety. The meat would take hours to prepare, so if the guests were meant to be fed today, it was best to start cooking it early.

  The return trip took a couple hours, but eventually the wooden palisade around Ashbourne became visible. The elves watched it carefully, but it seemed that they weren’t very impressed by the structure. They must have known similar defenses from back home. They came from a proper, organized nation, even if it was currently struggling in a deadly war.

  As the group traveled down the road through the hamlet, the local peasants came out to watch them with interest. That was to be expected. The serfs had likely never seen another race before.

  Elves were extremely rare even in large cities like Westbridge, with each one being a curiosity. Few traveled outside of Gomera forest. Even if it was relatively close to Logres. Most that did arrive in the capital came from other, distant countries, where cooperation between the two races was more common. Occasionally the elves showed up as merchants, or entertainers, with their mere exoticism acting as an advertisement of their services and driving up attention. Adventurers weren’t unheard of either.

  Still, taking care of the wounded was more important than letting the peasants gawk, so the group moved towards the manor without delay. Once they arrived, the servants got to work. They helped carry the stretchers up the stairs and placed the wounded down on the beds that the twins pointed out.

  Several bedrooms were emptied to allow Elvira to work. Fortunately, the healers traveling with the entourage were even better specialists than the mages. They quickly redressed all of the bandages and began applying their advanced techniques and poultices on the injured.

  No one was hurt enough to require constant supervision, so as soon as one person was treated they could be moved to a second room to rest. The crackling fires, a warm, dry environment, and good quality food would do wonders to help the elves recover. They just needed some time now to allow their bodies to heal.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the group prepared for a grand feast downstairs. The chefs were working overtime, with many of the other servants and even some of the Ashbourne serfs helping out. Since this morning, they were expecting that they’d need to feed as many as one hundred people, but if the monarch wanted forty more plates, they’d accommodate the request too.

  Rodger, eager to impress his liege, opened up the deepest recesses in his storage basement and allowed the cooks to use all of his supplies. On top of the aurochs meat, they could have plenty of spices, and barrels of pickled vegetables too.

  Over the next couple of hours, more and more of the treated refugees joined the group downstairs. Only a few people were bedridden, but the servants would make sure they could receive the same food portions as everyone else. They’d miss out on the atmosphere, but at least they’d spend the dinner together.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The rest took up places around the massive table in the dining room. There was space enough for the king, his closest confidants, and all of the elves. Most of the knights were moved to a secondary table set up in the center of the manor, while the servants focused on their work for now. After the feast was done, they’d be free to enjoy the leftovers together with the local peasants.

  The serfs would certainly appreciate that opportunity. There was enough to feed several villages and people of their status had few opportunities to enjoy game meat. Let alone an animal as respected as an aurochs.

  Once everyone was seated, the servants began bringing out the dishes. They started off light, with some bread and cheese, together with a traditional rye soup as appetizers. The main course needed more time.

  The elves were unfamiliar with all of these dishes. Gomera wasn’t an ideal place for farming grain, so they did not bake bread back home. They also didn’t know cheese, or at least not from cows. Soups were more common, but just like with the bread, this was the first time the guests could try rye.

  Varre watched Carlos as he inspected the bread carefully, unsure of how it should be eaten. It wasn’t so long ago that the former student faced a similar issue. Unlike what he was used to, the people of this world did not cut it into slices. In fact, the very first time he tried it, everyone stared at him like a madman. As a duke, he needed to quickly adjust to the others to avoid causing a scene. Now he was simply used to it.

  “Here,” the king said, passing a plate with a massive, round loaf of bread closer to the archer, “like this.”

  Then, Varre proceeded to rip off a piece with his hands. He put it aside on his plate, then ripped off an even smaller, bite-sized morsel. He ate it straight up, while encouraging his guest.

  Carlos nodded, and tried it himself. The rest of the table watched the exchange with polite smiles, and soon, every human was helping their foreign neighbors with the process.

  “Try this next,” Elvira suggested, as she threw a couple smaller pieces of the bread into the rye soup, “it’s going to be a lot softer.”

  The archer thanked her with a slightly uncertain nod and proceeded to follow her example. He already enjoyed this strange new food, but adding it to the slightly sour flavour of the soup only enhanced it further.

  Cheese was more of an acquired taste. Though they tried to hide it, some of the guests couldn’t help but grimace at the smell. Some of the knights chuckled at this hesitation, but fortunately everyone took it in good fun.

  Once everyone had whet their appetites, it was time for the main course. First, the servants caused a small shock, as they rolled up the tablecloth together with all of the dirty dishes still inside. The guests had not expected this, and some even stood up in surprise and protest. This was a well known Logresian tradition. It allowed the waiters to quickly and efficiently clear up the space on the tables, letting the nobility return to the feast with minimum interruption.

  A second tablecloth hid beneath the first. Soon, the servants started bringing in new plates and arranging them. Clean ones for the individual diners, and ones overflowing with food that would be placed in the center. For sharing.

  The elves widened their eyes at the sheer quantity. After weeks on the road, forced to scrounge food wherever they could, they were no longer used to the variety enjoyed by settled people. All the more reason to treat them to something nice.

  The aurochs was the main event. Even after it had been quartered for transport, it was still large enough that the servants needed to bring it in on a cart. Smaller sections were then distributed onto several plates and spaced out across the tables.

  Each person needed to cut off a piece of meat with a personal knife. Normally, it was the monarch who had the right to go first, but Varre decided to honor his guests instead.

  “Go ahead,” he encouraged Sofia, “take as much as you like.”

  She stood up to access the meat better, but only cut off a tiny slice for herself. She was about to place it on her place, when the king decided to intervene.

  “That one’s for me,” he said, holding his own plate closer.

  She grimaced, but complied. She didn’t intend to skimp out on her host. Then Varre joined her and cut off a much more generous portion for her. There was more than enough to go around, but the elves still felt a little uncomfortable. If the king needed to use force to teach them a lesson, so be it.

  Sofia sheepishly accepted the portion, but the monarch wasn’t done. He remained standing, and cut off another large piece for Carlos. He wanted to keep going, but the archer wouldn’t have it.

  “Let me,” the warrior said, and cut off another portion, just as large, for his host.

  Everyone cheered at this display of friendship. Soon, all of the humans started cutting off meat for their neighbors, with the elves responding in kind. This was originally supposed to be a day of celebration. The hunters achieved a great feat in hunting down the aurochs and it was only right to share this bounty with others. Especially those who truly needed it.

  While the meat was the main event, there were plenty of other dishes to keep the flavours interesting. There were at least a dozen bowls, each filled with pickled vegetables, fruits, jams, and even more bread, in case someone was still hungry for baked goods.

  The elves weren’t used to using personal knives for cutting off sections of communal meat before, but once the food was on their plate, they proceeded to eat it with spoons. Ironically, Varre was more familiar with their methods, than the Logresian way.

  He had lived in this world for around a year now, so he had mostly gotten used to the local methods, but he still lamented that most people ate food with their hands. They used knives for support, but they had no forks. Even spoons were mostly reserved for moving food from communal bowls to individual plates. Only soups and porridges were the exception.

  The king decided that he could kill two birds with one stone by ‘copying’ the elven technique. He could start to feel a bit more civilized, while continuing to build a good relationship with his guests at the same time.

  Some of the humans tried to follow their monarch, but many decided to stick to their favored ways. In fact, some of the elves decided to switch sides and eat with their hands, just as their hosts were. It was a real melting pot of cultures, but the important thing was that everyone was in a good mood. The guests had an opportunity to recover, and the hosts an opportunity to get to know them better.

  Now that most of the diners were starting to feel full, the guests focused more and more on the conversation.

  That’s when Varre decided to strike. “I hope you’ve enjoyed this meal,” he said, while cutting off a portion of meat into smaller pieces.

  “Yes, thank you,” Sofia replied and bowed her head, “it was very good.”

  “Delicious,” Carlos added. His mastery of the Logresian language seemed to be a little higher than his companion’s, “the food will make our people strong for the journey ahead.”

  “When do you plan to leave?” the king asked.

  The elves exchanged glances. “We don’t want to bother you. We thank you for the hospitality, but we will leave tomorrow,” the archer replied.

  “Are you sure? We’d be happy to let you stay even longer,” Varre suggested, “I’m sure the wounded need the rest.”

  “If you’re sure,” Sofia said carefully, “that would be great. We don’t need to rush.”

  Carlos grimaced slightly, but he agreed with her decision. “Yes, I suppose we can stay another day. Or two. But we don’t want to waste your resources. We’re able to take care of ourselves.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s no problem,” the king waved his hand, “but if you’re so serious about it, I’m sure you could help us out in exchange.”

  “What do you need?” the elf woman replied, staring into his eyes with conviction.

  “You could stay as long as you like,” Varre offered, “We have more than enough resources to help you. I know that the road has been tough on you and I don’t want you to venture out into the wilderness, only to waste more lives. But I also know that your journey gave you plenty of valuable experience,” he carefully studied them both, “experience that my people could use.”

  Sofia smiled and nodded slightly towards Carlos.

  The archer pumped his chest forward. “If that is what it takes to help my people, then I will be honored to do so. Rejoice, for you will now learn from the best hunter in all of Gomera!”

  The king stood up and vigorously shook the elf’s hand. Then, he leaned over to the woman. “And I’m sure that my mages will be happy to speak with you as well. We all have much to learn from each other.”