The main course arrived with considerably less ceremony than the first, which was perhaps appropriate given that the assembled nobility had just witnessed what amounted to a carefully orchestrated declaration of war wrapped in wedding announcements and polite applause.
But the servers, bless them, maintained their professional composure as they swept through the Winter Hall bearing platters that actually smelled like someone in the kitchens understood the fundamental concept of seasoning.
Roasted meat, carved from one of the massive ice bears that roamed the Northern Reaches, had been prepared with considerably more care than one might expect from a court that typically favored aesthetic presentation over actual flavor.
The meat was rich and dark, roasted until the exterior carried that perfect char while the interior remained tender, seasoned with herbs that grew in the brief summer months and winter spices that burned pleasantly on the tongue.
