Later in the night, everyone was invited off the ship to attend a banquet with the King and his people.
The hall was vast and the table stretched endlessly, laden with delicacies that Northern himself had never imagined existed. There were what looked like crabs but weren't exactly crabs—they were rather squishy, and one's teeth just sank into them, spilling juice that tasted like honeyed wine. Roasted birds glazed with something iridescent. Steaming bowls of broth that smelled like morning fog over a forest. Bread that was somehow both crispy and impossibly soft.
The ceiling arched high above them, painted with murals of loongs and ancient warriors whose names had probably been forgotten centuries ago. Lanterns hung from chains, casting warm golden light across the faces gathered around the table.
