No one named Montreal was any good... except the Old Ancestor.
Fortunately, Annan had found an excuse. Now he just had to stay at the banquet. So instead of rushing to chat up the Elves like the other Sorcerers, he went to the dining table without even taking a close look around.
The dazzling spread was mostly fruit and vegetables, many of which Annan had never seen before. At this time of year, anything grown from the soil cost more than meat.
Annan still looked as though he was attending the banquet, but his thoughts had drifted to farmland, greenhouses, and crops grown out of season...
Lost in thought, Annan wandered close to a beautiful Elf. She seemed to misunderstand his intentions and glanced down at him. "This isn't where you belong, human child."
Annan snapped out of his thoughts. What insufferable arrogance!
Annan picked a red juice that looked as much like Red Wine as possible, hoping it would make him seem more mature—
"I couldn't help it... They made me come," Annan said helplessly.
"I thought you'd lie, like the other humans," the female Elf said in surprise.
"Because they came with an agenda. I'm here for the same reason you are."
"The same reason?"
"To enjoy the banquet."
"You're wrong. The desire in this room makes me sick." The female Elf left the table without looking back.
Annan shrugged and went back to deciding which berries to try first.
The Sorcerers weren't having much luck. As Annan had said, the Elves loved nature, held high status, and were proud. They had no interest in Sorcerers who approached them with ulterior motives.
These Sorcerers had the wrong idea... They treated the Elves like humans, or like the Elves who worked as Mercenaries. But these Elves represented the Elven