As dusk gradually deepened, Elf Square was completely enveloped by bonfires. Creatures from all corners sang and danced, and such a lively, uninhibited scene had not appeared among the Elves for years.
The wedding hall was already filled with exquisite Elven delicacies, its seats occupied by distinguished guests of every rank from across the Red Soil Continent.
Cups clinked amid endless laughter. Melodious music drifted through the hall and carried out into the square, where Elves perched on treetops and sang their hearts out.
With the pressure of survival growing worse by the day, it was rare for the Elves to cut loose like this. Of course, tonight there was all the wine they could drink.
Some drank, some sang loudly, some poured out their tender feelings. Bonfire light shone upon every face, making the creatures appear all the more enchanting.
The six elders sat in the center of the hall, receiving guests from every direction. With power released from their hands, it seemed the burdens on their shoulders had also been completely lifted. They had suddenly aged considerably, yet they were happy now, leaning against one another and doing their best to urge each other to drink.
For once, the Human Race delegation had their arms around the Elven elders' shoulders. Such a sight between the upper ranks of two fiercely competitive races had been utterly unseen in recent years.
Dwarves were the best drinkers. Wherever they were, they were bound to be the backbone of the drinking tables. Their long beards dripped with wine, a state that was perfectly normal for them.
A large part of their reputation for drinking was built by those beards. Whenever they could drink no more, the beards could always absorb a little more, one way or another.
They looked forthright and hearty,