By the time Baron Stackpole and his knights reached the Great Hall, a feast was already underway. The scents of grilled and poached fish filled the air, along with savory, spiced rice stuffed into the shells of hundreds of mussels, and the sweet, heady aroma of honeyed pear wine.
Strangely, however, at least to Breton's eyes, not a single servant moved between the tables. Casks of wine had been placed at every table, and an entire extra table had been filled with sweets from Ship's Bell Pudding to preserved pear tarts, ready and waiting for the guests in the hall to come and take as they wished.
"'Bout time you showed up, Breton," Baron Mervyn called in a rich, booming voice when he saw his bearded friend enter the Great Hall at last. "We were starting to worry that you'd run yourself aground!"
