The staircase groaned under the weight of tribute as three men ascended, their arms laden with offerings. Around them, the Great Hall of Kakania was a riot of blooming decadence, a feast that felt less like a celebration and more like a siege of the senses.
Every delicacy known to the two continents was piled high upon silver trays. Spices that had journeyed through the sweltering arteries of Yarzat were tossed into stews with reckless abandon, their scents mingling with the aroma of roasted meats and exotic fruits. This was the legendary hospitality of the Great Bull of Kakania, provided in such excess that the very air seemed to thicken with the scent of grease and opulence.
No expense was spared for his son.
Of course, "Great Bull" was a title that was never uttered in the face of the man. And to use it within these walls was to courting a swift and messy end.
