On Crown Street, crystal chandeliers lit the floor of the banquet hall. The scents of assorted spices drifted through the air, while exquisite dishes on the long tables silently proclaimed the banquet's extravagance.
Banquets held by southern nobles differed little from those in the Empire. The food was laid out on tables for guests to help themselves.
Young nobles gathered in small groups, chatting quietly or discussing how best to invite a young lady to dance without losing face if she refused.
Renato's arrival alongside Perez did draw a few glances. But after a brief round of introductions, people quickly lost interest in him.
After all, he was only a commoner. No matter how skilled he was with a sword, to these noble scions, a Constable was probably little better than a gate guard.
Renato was happy to be left alone. To an Earthling like him, weren't these nobles, with all their affected airs, just so many clowns in a stage play?
Several nobles soon surrounded Perez, and the conversation turned to recent trade policies and the city defense budget. Renato tactfully stepped aside, accepted a glass of wine from a servant, and retreated to a corner of the banquet hall.
He focused on the grilled shrimp on his plate. Their shells had been roasted crisp, and their snowy white flesh was coated in melted butter.
A few drops of lemon juice had been squeezed onto their tails, the slight tang cutting through the richness perfectly.
The cook certainly lived up to the standards of nobility. Renato wiped his hands with a napkin, silently committing the dish's general flavor to memory. This was his first time eating such large freshwater crayfish.
Or perhaps they were sea shrimp preserved with magic? He couldn't be sure.
Just as Renato was about to