Before the first plates can even be fully cleared, Ferris calls for the chief cook to bring in more equally exquisite dishes from the lower kitchens. Another line of servants steps forward, their arms straining under the weight of the second tier of appetizers.
First is the Golden-Crusted Wetland Bird Pâté: a delicate, intensely buttery pastry shell shaped like a small chest, filled to the brim with the finely ground livers of wild riverbank fowl. The meat has been laced with strong regional brandy and studded with whole black peppercorns that provide a sharp, burning pop against the tongue.
Beside it are the plates of Spiced Wild Snail Crostini: plump, heavy marshland snails braised for hours in a rich, dark reduction of bitter ale, wild garlic, and ground walnuts, served piping hot over thick slices of toasted artisan herb bread that soak up the brown gravy.
Then come the Stuffed Marsh-Quail Eggs: soft-boiled quail eggs, their centers still perfectly runny, wrapped carefully in a savory herb and wild-mushroom duxelles before being rolled in fine breadcrumbs and gently fried in lard to a flawless golden crunch.
Next are the Riverbank Truffle & Mushroom Pastries: flaky puff pastry shaped into small tarts that shatter into a thousand layers at the touch of a finger, filled with rare, wild-foraged marsh truffles, common riverbank mushrooms, and a sharp, aged local cheese that smells of wet grass and salt.
Finally, they serve the Artichoke & Water-Mint Salad: tender globe artichoke hearts grilled over applewood coals with herb-infused oil, tossed with crisp watercress, wild water-mint leaves that leave a cool sting in the mouth, and thin shavings of salty parmesan cheese, all dressed in a sweet citrus vinaigrette.
Onaga stops his fork, slowly rubbing his small stomach through the fabric of his tunic, his face showing a look of mild distress. He feels quite full already, his small build unable to comfortably process the sheer volume of rich creams and butter that the nobles consume without a thought.
Hano is still staring in open-mouthed admiration at the intricate lattice work on the truffle pastry when two heavy-set servants step up to their table. With a cold, mechanical disregard, they snatch the half-eaten tarts and the remaining plates of pâté away from the boys' fingers. Instead of carrying them back to the scullery, the servants carry the silver platters to the iron railings at the edge of the square, where they carelessly throw the remaining luxury food directly into the dirt before the feet of the common people. A wild, desperate scramble ensues among the local children, their thin arms reaching through the bars to scrape the grease from the stones.
Duke Ferris stands up once more, raising his silver goblet to signal a temporary halt to the music.
"My esteemed guests!" Ferris proclaims, his rich voice echoing off the white marble facades as he looks down at the packed tables. "I must express my deepest, most sincere gratitude for your arrival on this glorious noon. Your presence honors the very soil of Thromium! But let us not linger on the simple greetings... for the main course has finally arrived!"
At his command, twenty long wooden banquet tables are rolled out into the center of the plaza by teams of sweating stable boys, arranged in two parallel lines that stretch from the fountain to the high gate. The servants begin covering the dark wood with an immense, dizzying variety of dishes, divided into three grand categories of medieval excess.
The first section is dedicated to Pottages & Grains. There is the Saffron & Sturgeon Pottage: a velvety, dense wheat-grain porridge simmered for half a day in a rich broth of imported eastern saffron and sour white wine, studded throughout with large, flaky chunks of premium sturgeon loin that melt like butter on the tongue. Beside it sits the Duck Breast with Spelt & Honey-Ale Reduction: pan-seared river-foraged duck breast, the skin cooked to a perfect crimson crisp, served atop a nutty, heavy bed of braised spelt and multi-grains, finished with a sweet, dark ale-glaze that coats the teeth. Then comes the Pike-Perch Roulade over Spiced Farro: a delicate, pale green roll of pike-perch wrapped around seasoned river herbs, steamed over white wine and served over a bed of farro that has been simmered in rich mutton fat and aromatic onion broth until every grain is bursting. At the end of the line is the Pigeon & Chestnut Pie: a flaky, refined-wheat pastry box encasing tender bits of local squab, roasted chestnuts, and sweet red onions, all baked together in a rich red wine reduction that leaks a thick purple gravy through the top crust.
The second section holds the Seafood & River Fare. There is the Truffled Eel and Pearl Barley: a slow-simmered, dark stew of river eel combined with buttery pearl barley and wild forest mushrooms, heavily garnished with a mountain of freshly grated black truffles that fill the air with a pungent, earthy scent. Next is the Crayfish and Sweet Amber Wheat Risotto: a savory, high-grade porridge made from toasted cracked wheat and a rich crayfish shell reduction, topped with a dozen butter-poached crayfish tails that glow pink in the sun. Beside it is the Poached Salmon with Sorrel Sauce: thick, three-inch cuts of river salmon poached in dry white wine, blanketed completely in a bright, herbaceous sorrel and green butter sauce that smells sharply of lemon and grass. Then they lay out the Herb-Crusted Zander in Sourdough: a premium, firm-fleshed zander fillet crusted with dried river herbs and wild thyme, baked entirely inside a hollowed-out sourdough bread bowl for a rustic-yet-noble presentation that requires a small iron axe to split open.
The final, largest section holds the Noble Meats & Breads. There is the Honey-Glazed Venison over Rye Cavatelli: thinly sliced, flame-roasted venison loin paired with handmade rye cavatelli dumplings, tossed together in a tart berry and red wine compote that stains the wooden platters a deep crimson. Beside it sits the Braised Wild Boar with Semolina Gnocchi: slow-braised wild boar shoulder cooked in an aromatic dark gravy until the meat falls apart at the touch of a spoon, served over rich, buttery mounds of semolina gnocchi. Then comes the Stuffed Quail with Barley & Fig Dressing: culinary quails stuffed to the bursting point with a savory multi-grain, dried fig, and green pistachio dressing, glazed heavily with a dark, sticky pour of imported pomegranate molasses. Finally, they present the Tavern-Spiced Saddle of Rabbit: a saddle of riverbank rabbit roasted with massive quantities of imported cinnamon and cloves, accompanied by a savory, caramelized onion-wheat bread pudding that fills the lower square with a sweet, spicy warmth.
Onaga's stomach is so stuffed that he leans back against his wooden chair, his face slightly pale as his breathing becomes shallow. He looks at the mountain of meat before him with a look of pure, unadulterated defeat.
Hano's fork trembles in his hand. His energetic movements have completely vanished, replaced by a slow, dazed look of exhaustion as he stares at the remaining quail on his plate. He can barely lift his arm to take another bite.
And yet, just as the entire nobility begins to lean back in their seats, their faces red from the wine and the heat, Duke Ferris stands up once more at the high dais. He looks out at the gathered guests with a wide, triumphant smile, his handsome features completely glowing with a terrifying, absolute pride. He raises his arms to the sky, his voice dropping into a dramatic, ringing register.
"Do not grow weary, my friends!" Ferris announces, his eyes gleaming as he signals to a third line of hidden servants. "The true crown of the feast has just arrived! Let us present the dessert dishes!"
A collective gasp ripples through the tables as the servants begin rolling out long silver carts loaded with an unbelievable array of sweets, stacked high like monuments to the duchy's wealth.
First is the Gilded Spun-Wheat Mille-Crêpe: paper-thin crêpes made from the finest fine-sifted wheat flour, layered meticulously with sweetened, saffron-infused double cream. The entire cake is stacked to a flawless, mathematically precise thirty centimeters tall, encased completely within a delicate, transparent caramelized sugar dome, and crowned at the summit with thin sheets of genuine, flickering edible gold leaf that catch the light with every breeze.
Next comes The Duke's Spiced Custard Tart (Crème Bastarde): a medieval-inspired, incredibly rich egg and heavy cream custard baked inside a perfectly crisp, butter-enriched multigrain shortcrust. The surface has been lightly brûléed with hot iron brands and dusted with imported nutmeg, cardamom, and ground clove, served warm so the steam smells of the orient.
Beside it sits the River-Malt & Honey Blancmange: a shimmering, delicate dessert made by setting sweet, rich cream with toasted malt, pearl barley, and almond milk. The gelatin has been molded into elegant, winding river-serpent and tall castle-spire shapes, garnished around the base with crystallized, purple candied violets.
Then they present the Caramelized Pear & Rye-Streusel Cheesecake: a high-end, heavy tart combining a dense cream cheese base with a nutty, textured crust made from crushed rye and milled oats. The top is covered entirely with seasonal riverbank pears poached in spiced honey-wine, finished with a mountain of buttery crumble.
Following that is the Clotted Cream & Blackberry Trifle (The Merchant's Pride): layers of light, airy wheat sponge cake soaked deep in a sweet, spiced dessert wine, smothered in thick, decadent local clotted cream, and layered with a dark, purple riverbank blackberry compote. It is served inside deep, faceted crystal goblets to showcase its vivid, jewel-toned layers to the light.
Next is the Iced Rosewater Posset: a silky, mousse-like indulgence made by curdling heavy cream with sweetened lemon juice and distilled rosewater, served inside chilled silver coupes and garnished with fresh river-mint leaves and crushed green pistachios.
Then comes The Golden Grain Pudding (Budino): a luxurious baked pudding crafted by simmering cracked wheat and wild rice in sweet cream and raw egg yolks until dense, studded throughout with dried golden raisins, drizzled with rare dark honey, and served with a heavy pour of aged, rich cream from the side.
Beside it are the Whipped Butter-Fritters with Wildflower Glaze: light, doughy fritters fried in purified butter until they puff up like clouds, glazed immediately with a sparkling reduction of wildflower honey and river-mint, piled high like a golden crown, dusted heavily with powdered sugar, and served with a side of sweetened mascarpone.
Next are the Crystallized Wheat-Flake & Butter Pralines: decadent confections made by toasting milled wheat flakes and crushed river-nuts in a bubbling bath of heavy cream and dark sugar. Each praline is hand-wrapped in stamped ducal wax paper bearing the crest of Thromium, often gifted as luxurious tokens between noble merchant houses during negotiations.
Finally, the servants uncover The Duchess's Brioche Ice-Crown: a decadent, golden-baked, egg-and-butter enriched brioche loaf, hollowed out carefully and filled to the very brim with sweetened, churned cream flavored with seasonal forest berries. It is served on an ornate silver platter, dusted heavily with winter spices, and sliced at the table to reveal the rich, marbled cream inside.
Hano drops his fork onto the marble table with a dull clatter, his head tilting back as he lets out a long, pathetic groan of pure, physical defeat.
If I eat one more gram of sugar, Hano thinks, his eyelids fluttering as his stomach locks up in a tight knot of pain, my internal organs will literally shut down. This isn't a feast; it's a structural chemical attack on my digestive tract.
At this exact moment, a sharp trumpet blast sounds from the edge of the plaza.
Ferris's personal livery servants emerge from the side gates, rolling out a long, wide red carpet that cuts directly through the center of the square, covering the white marble and stretching all the way down the southern slope toward the riverbank.
Duke Ferris stands up, his tall frame cutting a grand figure against the noon sky as he waves his long fingers to signal the next phase of the gathering. The nobles immediately rise from their seats, their fat faces flush with wine as they fall into line behind their master. Onaga and Hano, along with the rest of the high-tier entourage, are forced to follow closely behind, their boots stepping onto the thick wool of the carpet as they leave the ruins of the feast behind.
The procession moves down the hill, arriving quickly at a brand-new, massive wooden dock built along the deepwater curve of the Thromium river.
Moored against the heavy oak pilings is a vessel of unbelievable proportions. Duke Ferris turns back to his guests, his handsome face bursting with an arrogant, glowing pride as he extends his arm toward the hull.
"Behold, my friends!" Ferris proclaims, his baritone voice carrying over the rushing water. "The latest, greatest invention of the Thromium duchy—the State Barge! Inspired by the magnificent rowbarges of the historical eras, this vessel represents the absolute pinnacle of riverine engineering!"
Everyone begins to praise the ship instantly, their voices rising in a frantic, overlapping chorus of awe.
The State Barge is a true monument to excess. The entire length of the hull features ornately carved, heavily gilded railings that reflect the sun like solid gold bars. At the rear of the deck rises a lavishly glazed aft cabin—an enclosed, completely comfortable upper-deck pavilion featuring large panels of rare, smooth glass that provide the perfect setting for a duke to host his chosen nobles in unparalleled luxury, safe from the wind and spray. Meanwhile, the spacious, open lower decks are designed to easily accommodate the entire military retinue, the personal guards, and teams of caterers to ride along the river as part of a spectacular, roaring riverine procession.
Onaga and Hano stand at the edge of the pier, their eyes tracking the clean, parallel lines of the ship's framework and the iron rivets along the rudder assembly. A sudden, deep look of familiarity washes over both of their faces. They look at each other, their eyebrows knitting together into a silent, shared realization.
Hano's hand suddenly tightens against the gilded railing, his knuckles going white as his energetic gaze locks onto the main structural timber.
Those joinery cuts on the main beam, he realizes, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck as he recognizes the unmistakable, modern geometry of the framework. Those aren't medieval techniques. This hull was drafted using a standard metric clearance model.
He cuts a sharp, warning glance toward Onaga. They are looking at the work of Earth slaves like them—but slaves of a completely different, industrial class hidden deep within the Duke's shipyards.
Everyone begins boarding the vessel, the heavy wooden gangplanks groaning under the weight of the silk dresses and the polished armor of the knights. Onaga and Hano step onto the lower deck, their boots feeling the slow, rhythmic rocking of the massive hull against the river current.
The lines are cast off with a series of sharp shouts from the boatswain, and the State Barge begins to sail smoothly downstream, its long oars dipping into the gray water in perfect unison. This marks the official beginning of another part of the gala—a truly extravagant, floating display of the duchy's total power.
As the white stone towers of Thromium slowly begin to recede into the noon mist behind them, Onaga and Hano look out over the widening river. The jagged, faintly pulsing lines of the slave marks on their skin feel heavier than ever under the mid-day sun, their youthful features remaining tight with apprehension as they wonder what terrifying display of wealth is waiting for them next along the winding water.