Chapter 16 - Feast before the fire
Liam got out of the carriage. His boots crunched on the dirt in the palace courtyard, and the morning sun shone off the stone towers. He stretched and cracked his neck as he looked out at the familiar landscape. Grand arches and flags flapping in the wind. It was the same place he'd found himself some weeks ago.
The sound of music emanated from within the palace, a jiving combination of drums and strings, accompanied by the buzz of conversation and the sound of laughter. It hit him like a wave—life, noise, a sharp switch from the quiet grind of the last three days.
He smiled, faint but real, and let a guard lead him up the steps.
The guard was all business—armor clanking, spear in hand—guiding him through the palace's maze of halls.
Liam's legs still ached from yesterday's push-ups, but he maintained pace, the excitement of anticipation drowning out the discomfort.
They stopped at a heavy wooden door, and the guard knocked once before pushing it open. "The king awaits," he grunted, stepping aside.
Liam walked into room and a wave of warmth hit him—furs on the walls, a fire crackling in the hearth, the king sat in a high-backed chair. The old man looked up, his gray beard twitching as he smiled.
"Hero," he said, voice gravelly but warm, standing to grip Liam's hand. "Good of you to come."
"Wouldn't miss it," Liam replied, gripping back, his own voice still rough from sleep. "Thanks for the invite, Your... uh, Majesty." He fumbled the title, but the king just chuckled, waving it off.
"Gratitude's mine," the king said, settling back into his chair and gesturing for Liam to sit. "The warriors'll be back by dawn—The battle at Mytheris was victorious, thanks to them. A victory worth celebrating, and a hero's presence makes it sweeter."
Liam nodded, leaning back, but his mind slipped gears. Dawn. Lysandra, Selene, Erynn—back, victorious, probably still be tired from the fight. He pictured it—grabbing them after the party, dragging them back home, peeling off whatever armor they'd worn, sinking back into that wild, filthy heat from three nights ago. His lips twitched, a dirty smirk forming, and he could almost feel Erynn's nails, Lysandra's grip, Selene's—
"Hero?" The king's voice snapped him back, sharp but amused. "You still with me?"
"Uh—yeah, sorry," Liam stammered, straightening up, heat creeping up his neck. "Just... excited, y'know? Big day."
The king eyed him, a knowing glint in his weathered eyes. "You look better than last we met," he said, leaning forward. "Stronger. Less like a breeze'd knock you flat. They treating you well out there?"
"Really well," Liam replied, grinning despite himself. "Food's good, bed's... useful." He paused before saying wrecked, but the king's brow raised as if he'd heard it already. "Can't complain."
"Good, good," the king rumbled, stroking his beard. "A hero needs his strength—especially for days like this." They chatted a bit longer—small talk about the battle, the palace, the weather—Liam half-listening, nodding along. The king was decent, solid, but damn, he couldn't stop thinking about what came after the formalities. Those lust points still burned a hole in his pocket—five left, but maybe he'd rack up more tonight.
Finally, the king clapped his hands and stood. "Enough of this—let's get to the hall. They are all waiting to see you, Hero." He gestured toward the door with a broad sweep of his arm. "Can't keep 'em in suspense."
Liam nodded and pulled himself up. "Lead the way," he said, and they walked out of the room together. The trek was short—just a stretch of hallway with guards flanking them, and the music got louder with each step. Paintings showing previous conflicts and older kings, but Liam's attention was drawn to the double doors ahead, gold-trimmed and huge. The guard ahead growled something, and a trumpet blared inside sharply.
"The king arrives!" a voice boomed as the doors swung open, revealing the banquet hall in all its chaos. Liam's breath caught—tables groaning with food, roast meats and steaming bread, wine sloshing in goblets. People packed the space—nobles in silks, soldiers in dented armor, servants moving through the crowd. The music swelled, a lute player strumming fast, and heads turned, eyes locking on them as they stepped in.
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"Well, well," the king muttered, smirking sidelong at Liam before raising a hand. The chatter died, all attention zeroing in. "People of the Eryndor!" His voice rolled out, deep and steady. "We gather to celebrate our victory at Mytheris, our foes crushed. And here stands the Hero, gracing us with his presence!"
A cheer erupted, loud and messy, cups banging on tables, boots stomping the floor. Liam shifted, half-awkward, half-pumped, raising a hand in a lazy wave. Faces grinned back—some awed, some curious, a few women eyeing him like he was the damn feast. His smirk widened. Yeah, this'll do.
The king clapped his shoulder, leaning in. "Mingle, eat, enjoy," he said, voice low. "They'll be here soon enough." Then he stepped away, swept into a knot of nobles, leaving Liam standing there, the hall's energy washing over him.
He grabbed a goblet from a passing tray, the wine sharp and dark on his tongue, and scanned the room. Laughter, clinking metal, a woman's high giggle cutting through the din. Dawn wasn't far off—just hours now—and then they'd roll in. Lysandra's silver glare, Selene's wicked tail, Erynn's golden chaos. He downed the wine in one gulp, the buzz hitting fast, and set the cup down. "Gotta pace myself," he muttered, but the grin wouldn't quit. Three days of waiting, and now this—good food, good noise, and soon, good company. Real good company.
A noble clapped his back, babbling about the battle, and Liam nodded, half-hearing, his mind already racing ahead. The system hadn't thrown him anything juicy yet, but maybe tonight'd change that. Lust points, power-ups, another round with the trio—he could feel it brewing, a itch under his skin. For now, though, he'd play the hero, soak in the cheers, and wait for dawn to deliver.