Just as Horace frowned, pondering how to turn his vision of an army of "Shrimp Lords of Cinder" into reality, far away in Leyndell on the Altus Plateau, the capital had already plunged into a rather unusual revelry.
Godfrey's order to "trim down the party," after repeated "casual" reminders from Beast Chancellor Serosh, was finally understood by the First Lord.
"Fewer people... hmm..." Godfrey rubbed his chin, his brows knotting together.
He looked at the crowd outside the palace, who had hurried over upon hearing the news and were now gazing at him expectantly.
His old tribesmen, newly distinguished retainers, Crucible Knights, and even some Leyndell nobles-all their faces were filled with anticipation. Turning any of them down seemed inappropriate, and went against his magnanimous nature.
Suddenly, his bell-sized eyes lit up, and his enormous hand slapped the column beside him.
Serosh closed his eyes in pain, estimating the repair costs.
His voice boomed like a great bell. "I've got it! We'll do it the old way! The strong go, the weak stay! There are only so many places. Whoever has what it takes comes with me to drink at the wedding in Caria!"
The moment this order went out, the entire capital erupted, especially the military camps and the districts where the tribal warriors gathered!
To compete for the honor of accompanying their god and lord, a far-reaching "Grand Tournament" began in spectacular fashion.
Not only Godfrey's own tribal warriors and Crucible Knights, but also many knights from Leyndell, and even noble youths confident in their own strength, were eager to try their luck, hoping to distinguish themselves at this rare occasion and win the First Lord's favor.
And so, burly men fighting in pairs could be seen throughout the capital's arenas.
The crashes of axes and hammers, stomping