The rhythmic scrape of utensils against porcelain filled the air as the figure continued to eat, savoring each bite of meat while occasionally sipping from a glass of deep red wine. His calm and methodical routine was interrupted when a servant entered the room, calling his attention.
"My Lord Lecter," the servant greeted with a bow.
The figure placed his fork and knife gently on the plate and turned his gaze to the servant as he took a sip of wine. "What is it, Bryan?" he asked, his voice even.
"You have a visitor, my lord," the servant announced.
"Who might that be, Bryan?"
"It's me," came the voice of Solivar, who strode past the servant without hesitation. The servant made a futile attempt to stop him, but Solivar's presence was commanding.
"Ah, it's fine, Bryan," the gentleman said with a wave of his hand. "Place Solivar a nice morsel of meat, and pour him some wine. I'll extend the full hospitality of my castle."
The gentleman gestured to the seat beside him. Solivar took the invitation, sitting to the immediate left of the man, and noticed a female figure nearby. She had fiery red hair and wore a stark black-and-white mask that split her face into two distinct halves.
"Mmm, where's the other one? The one with the longer hair?" the gentleman asked, his voice low but curious.
"Liza is off on a mission for me elsewhere," Solivar replied, settling into his seat.
The gentleman hummed thoughtfully as he took a sip of his wine. "I understand. In any case, you seem... displeased. What happened?"
Solivar's mood darkened as he exhaled a frustrated sigh. "I found the culprits who looted my caravan and caused such massive losses," he said, his voice thick with irritation.
"What happened to them and the goods?" the gentleman inquired, his interest piqued.
"It was a group of idiotic marauders who thought it was a good idea to loot my caravan. They couldn't handle the wolves I was supposed to receive and ended up releasing them after trying to steal them. The wolves escaped into another territory and were killed. And, to make matters worse, the person who killed the wolves was a factionless vampire whom I had so happened to have met tonight when I was slaughtering the marauders," Solivar explained, his displeasure evident.
The gentleman leaned back in his chair, considering this for a moment. "Ah, you're at an impasse. You've already traded your familiars for Envy's, but you didn't get your own in return, and now you can't protest because your epithet forbids you from complaining," he said, his tone observant rather than sympathetic.
"More or less, yes," Solivar muttered, his tone making it clear he didn't wish to continue that line of conversation.
At that moment, the servant placed a well-cut plate of meat before Solivar, and the dish was arranged with meticulous care. Shortly afterward, the servant poured a glass of red wine for him.
Solivar glanced down at the dish, raising an eyebrow in intrigue. "What's the story behind this dish?" he asked, inspecting the meat carefully.
The gentleman smiled, his eyes glinting with something dark yet playful. "Ah, it's quite a tale. I found a pure lamb, about to be defiled by highwaymen. I saved her, of course, and she was so grateful she offered to be my guest. I made her comfortable, and now… she's here, on my plate," he said, his smile widening as he raised his glass. The servant poured more wine into the gentleman's chalice, and he took a slow, deliberate sip.
Solivar picked up his own glass and swirled the wine, watching it catch the light. "And how long was this one aged, for you to finally take it out for drinking?" he asked, his voice light but with a hint of amusement.
"Four years and six months," the gentleman replied, savoring the taste of his own wine. "And it did not disappoint."
"Hanival, you truly go above and beyond to make consumption both refined and sophisticated," Solivar commented, smiling as he took a sip of wine himself.
The gentleman chuckled, a rich sound that filled the room. "Well, one of us Monarchs must be refined in our consumption tendencies. Being Gluttony, my epithet, I am honored to carry that mantle," he said, continuing to eat with grace.
Solivar leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face as he began to eat. "Mmm, I suppose I am glad to be one of the few who is occasionally invited to dine with you and experience this," he said with a slight smile.
The gentleman offered a small, knowing grin. "It is not a privilege many receive."
And so, the two continued their meal, the conversation flowing as smoothly as the wine.
Meanwhile, at the conquered castle:
James and Thorpe walked down a now ravaged street, the aftermath of the recent battle evident in the debris and destruction that lay around them.
"Captain, how long before we can return to the city?" James asked, looking ahead.
"When Norman arrives, which will be during the day, so you'll just have to be patient," Thorpe replied. "For now, rotate shifts with the guards for the night watch and make sure the livestock doesn't cause any trouble."
James nodded in understanding.
"Captain, who amongst us will go to Count Malcray and fetch the due payments to complete this cleanup operation?" Chase asked as he approached and joined the conversation.
"Good question," Thorpe replied thoughtfully. "But that's not really for us to decide. I'll leave that to the Lord and the Castellans, as that's above my salary." He turned his attention to Chase. "Are all things in order on your side?"
"Yes, sir. Everything is accounted for and well," Chase answered.
"Good. All that's left is to wait until morning, and then we can leave," Thorpe said, turning his gaze back to the street ahead of them.
"Understood," Replied James and Chase, and afterward left for their respective places that they were stationed for the night.