The banquet carried on the Blood Angels' traditional bonfire party style.
The bonfires were lit, each one blazing brighter than the last.
Flames licked skyward, brightly illuminating the open ground before the fortress.
The long tables were piled with food. Steam rose from huge pots of stew, while roasted meat sizzled on iron platters.
They had truly spared no expense this time.
Bolomite was not like Baal, where they could simply hunt beasts on the planet. Bolomite had no wild animals; all food had to be shipped in from elsewhere.
But that was fine. They had money now.
The Astartes and civilians crowded together, holding plates and cups, tearing into meat, clinking drinks with those beside them, and laughing as they talked.
The air was thick with fragrance: roasted meat, carbohydrates, and firewood, all mingling together.
Laughter and cheerful voices filled the air.
Children ran around the bonfires, clutching skewers of grilled meat as they ate, grease smeared across their faces like little monkeys.
A boy ran straight into a Flesh Tearer's leg and fell backward onto his backside.
The lower leg of that walking tin can was thicker than his waist.
"...Uh..." The boy sat on the ground in a daze for half a second, then looked up and saw a bald giant two and a half meters tall glaring down at him fiercely.
His lips quivered, and he was about to cry.
The Flesh Tearer looked down. A little brat, crying like a Gretchin. He reached down, lifted the boy with one hand, and set him on his shoulder.
The child was as tiny as an unweaned kitten before the broad, armored Flesh Tearer. To him, the warrior's shoulder guard was practically a wide chair.
Sitting on his shoulder, the boy looked down at the distant ground, then