The enormous banquet table was draped in a velvet tablecloth from the East, stretching from the foot of the dais to the edge of the square like a white river.
Upon that river flowed a dazzling array of delicacies.
The central area nearest the dais was reserved for nobles and senior clergy. Crystal-clear goblets and solid silver plates adorned the tables here.
Whole suckling pigs, roasted golden and crisp with apples in their mouths, were surrounded by mounds of flowers; rare deep-sea fish were sliced into sashimi as thin as cicada wings and served in ice-carved vessels; there was even peacock meat marinated in spices and honey for three full days, giving off an intoxicatingly sweet, rich aroma.
Ladies in sumptuous gowns fluttered feather fans, concealing their distaste for the slums' stench behind demure smiles on this grand evening. Gentlemen raised glasses filled with Angel's Tears aged for fifty years, each sip worth an ordinary family's entire annual food supply.
Glasses clinked amid perfumed finery.
At the edge of all this splendor stood a security line of black iron railings and fully armed Templars.
Beyond that line, the outskirts of the square had been arranged into an enormous open-air communal banquet, with tables for the devout commoners.
Tens of thousands of ragged believers from the Lower District had already taken their seats, their hands clasped in prayer and their expressions solemn yet yearning. All that lay before them were coarse flatbreads and meat broth handed out by the Church, nothing like the delicacies inside, but to these people tormented by hunger, it was already the greatest of blessings.
The collective sound of swallowing saliva was louder even than the orchestra playing in the center of the square.
Amid this strange atmosphere woven from extreme luxury and extreme hunger, a small,