The feast roared on and on into the small hours, wine and ale flowing in rivers while the collective laughter of the hall crashed down like a deafening avalanche.
Somewhere during the height of the revelry, a small token of Harlon's appreciation had been extended to the guests. Dancers from the lands of sand were brought out to exhibit themselves. They swayed first on the polished floor of Harlon's personal mansion, before being made to swat second , while being subtly directed toward the guest chambers under the dim, flickering light of a few prepared candles.
There was more than one girl for each man present, including the neutrals. After all, if cold politics could not successfully sway a man's allegiance, perhaps a bit of warm, exotic pleasure could grease the wheels.
Publius had been happy enough to accept it, and he was the one with the widest smile as he was led to his bedroom by two of them, one with hay-blonde hair and another with raven-black hair.
