Dwarven ale has become synonymous with the ones which Welton produces. Made by one of the most beloved dwarfs of all time, the alcoholic beverage was named after its creator; Leghumper. It is usually called 'dwarven ale' due to the name's lewdness. It is a robust and potent brew, made from local ingredients but packed with enough nutrients to sustain a person for weeks on end. Although dwarven physiology has evolved to support inordinate amounts of alcohol in their system to make that saying come true, this book advises against other races from attempting to do so. The recipe hasn't changed much, but the production methods have become streamlined and more efficient. Pernatia's Golden Ale is a close competitor that appeals to a wider audience, but due to the amount consumed by the population of Welton on a daily basis, Leghumper's Brew is by far the most consumed ale on the continent.

~ Leghumper's Chronicles; The Making of Dwarven Ale

The party began. Many people's faces were somber, especially considering that they had just finished giving the funeral rites for the fallen two days ago. It was still fresh in their minds.

Maybe that was why the Royal Family held a feast. To let those who experienced the most hardship ease up and relax for the first time they had in days.

Chester didn't know, as he was too busy living it up with the geriatric king of Welton. He had hit things off with Phillop, and before he knew it he had ended up carrying the smaller man over his shoulders as both carried a chalice of fine liquor in their free hand.

Several waiters and waitresses opened the doors to the banquet hall in horror after seeing their patriarch over a man's shoulders. Prince Kent ushered them in, giving them the chance to circle around and serve full-course meals to the attendants.

"Man, you guys don't know how to party!" The illusionist said, letting the alcohol run through his system. Whatever was in the cup, it was potent. Many of the attendants watched ins stunned silence as the curly-haired man got up, still carrying Phillop on his shoulders. The Attainium melded perfectly to give the king a slight cushion on his posterior and prevented him from falling. "I'll put up some music. I should be charging extra for this."

A disco ball manifested itself on the ceiling, coating the area in multicolored, flashing lights. The room began to fill with the sound of electronic club music, with a fast tempo and the occasional lyric in an unknown language that none of them understood. Damien instantly recognized the music from when they were in the mines deep underground. Murmurs began to spread as the illusionist acted out of line, but they could do little to stop him with the king enjoying the festivities atop his shoulders. Prince Kent watched his usually feeble father chugging an entire cup of alcohol in one swoop. The rest of the royal family was scandalized upon seeing the patriarch of Welton being paraded around so callously.

"Why is he like this?" The vampire boy groused, massaging his forehead and already wanting to turn in for the night.

Damien watched from a distance, deciding to move closer to his people and pretend he wasn't associated with the rowdy man. Natalia turned to him, smiling lightly at how expressive the previously withdrawn boy was. Jensen was holding two chalices, giving the woman the freedom to use her remaining hand as she pleased. The boy winced slightly when she slapped him on the back. Despite being weakened by the loss of her arm, she was far from vulnerable judging by her display of casual strength.

"I can't say I hate it. These banquets are usually stiff and formal." She said amusedly. "He's like a court jester. I wouldn't be surprised if Alda tried to keep him here as one."

"Chester the Jester, huh?" Damien mulled over the nickname as the man in question dry-humped the air vigorously. Some of the attendants had fallen into his pace and began dancing. Most of the dwarves were already familiar with his antics, especially as he spent most nights in the pub. Others decided to continue eating the lavish meals presented on the table. "It has a nice ring to it."

"...He is quite the character." Jensen said shortly, offering the woman beside him a sip of her drink. She took it gladly, staring down the Lieutenant General through his lone eye. Her velvet lips were irresistible as they wrapped around the edge of the cup. Despite his usually cool expression, Jensen's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably at the direct eye contact.

"Thanks for that." Natalia said, leaning a bit closer towards the broad-shouldered man.

He muttered out an incoherent reply, and Damien decided to let their sexual tension brew in favor of browsing through the rest of the room's guests. The boy walked towards the other end of the table, making eye contact with several familiar faces; it was the squadron he had led to destroy the ballista. The group of dwarves, humans, and vampires were all seated together, and they instantly got up to address their one-time leader.

"Sir Rose!" A dwarf got up and bowed, but his portly body made it difficult to turn his torso and he nearly stumbled. "Congratulations on the Amethyst Braveheart!"

The boy knew the man's name. He decided it was the least he could do to remember the names of those who willingly followed his orders.

"No need for all that Brent, just came by to see how you're all doing." He said easily. Damien felt like he didn't deserve the praise, trying to steer the conversation topic away from himself. "You're all recovered?"

All of them nodded. The vampire could still remember those who didn't make it past the battle, but seeing the ones who were alive made him marginally happier. They all looked up to him, with a hint of admiration and respect in their eyes. Damien hoped he could live up to their expectations.

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They chattered away, and after much encouragement, he drank some of the stronger alcohol present on the table. Damien's appetite was beginning to grow after an extended period of talking, and he settled in with the group and began to eat. Dwarven cuisine was heavier on protein with a heavy emphasis on potato dishes. Due to the variety of races in the banquet, Damien also had the privilege of drinking blood and vampire-themed meals as well.

"I'm surprised you haven't exploded yet! How'd you fit it into your stomach?" One of the paladins said. He was a bit older, closer to Chester's age. He watched the vampire stuff three entire plates worth of food down his gullet, never to return.

"I've been busy training. This is my first meal in quite some time."

Damien burped quietly into a closed fist, a habit ingrained from his etiquette training. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten like that. The boy was used to eating in moderation, but the effects of the strong dwarven ale had whet his appetite.

Chester had simmered down slightly, enjoying the festivities and adding some food onto his plate. He whistled out a tune, happy that he could practice his illusion skills openly while giving the banquet a good atmosphere.

He gushed over how flavourful the food was. Each dish was hearty and nutritious, revitalizing his body and making him bloat rapidly. There was a steady stream of servants carrying empty plates and new dishes from the doors, and Chester made sure to compliment them on the service. He was in a good mood, after all.

"It's never a normal day with you, is it?"

The illusionist turned his eyes upward to see Alda with her arms crossed. The petite woman was dressed well for the occasion, wearing a well-fitted green surcoat. Her hair was styled uniquely; strands from the front were braided neatly around her head, giving her a crown-shaped hairstyle that suited her face well.

'She looks like that girl from Game of Thrones. She's hot. Alda is too. Man, she is so pretty. Especially when she's nake-'

Contrary to his inner thoughts, the man spoke bemusedly. "Philly over there gave me the go-ahead, don't look at me like that."

The King of Welton was struggling against his son and daughter's attempts at placing him back on the throne. He was loudly protesting and demanding more alcohol.

She tilted her head upon hearing the nickname, making an exasperated expression that spoke more than a thousand words. The absolute lack of care or etiquette he could show but chose not to was on full display. Chester couldn't help but notice her dimples and alluring green eyes. Her face was undoubtedly beautiful, but the way she looked at him turned him off.

"Don't look at me like that either!"

"Or else what?"

Chester immediately sensed the meaning behind those suggestive words but kept chewing nonchalantly. As soon as he swallowed, he leaned in closer and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We can play later if you'd like, but let's enjoy the party for now. Okay?"

Alda gave him a satisfied smirk; they caught up and chatted pleasantly before they were swarmed by other attendants. Eventually, the man got bored of waiting and decided to roam around the room. His eyes landed on an older man quietly enjoying his food. Brown eyes, magnified slightly by the lens of his thick-framed glasses, Chester remembered his name being mentioned during the ceremony.

"Pardon me, are you Archbishop Romero? I don't believe we've ever got the chance to talk."

He met the priest's gaze, and the man responded with a simple nod. He had a small drink and kept to himself.

"Yes, that's me. I've heard much about you."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Thanks for saving me. I heard you're responsible for keeping me alive."

"It's the least I could do." He said, elegantly cutting into the steak and taking another bite. After some more time, he continued to talk. "If you hadn't heard from the doctor already, avoid using any healing potion or magic for the next few weeks. It'd be in your best interest to let your body heal naturally."

Chester nodded. "Yeah, I'm being careful as it is. Let me know if you ever need anything, yeah? Although I can't guarantee much I'll try to help whenever possible."

The man never liked owing somebody a debt. He rarely offered an 'IOU' that wasn't in the form of monetary compensation, but he decided that fostering better relationships with people in power was a smart thing to do. Chester was determined to have a different life. Although he would never be able to change who he was as a person, he knew that his solitary lifestyle in the past hadn't done him any favors.

"I wouldn't say that. Your illusions are quite formidable, being able to keep them up in the midst of a party. I've heard sound-based illusions are much more difficult to maintain as well. We could use your services in the future if you don't mind."

The thief gave him a thumbs-up. He considered it a success. Most of his relationships in his previous life were one-time meetings. He generated a false identity, playing a different role on any given night before disappearing into obscurity by the time day broke. But now he was letting go of the need to hide away and lie at every moment possible, opening up to others instead of keeping them at arms-length.

Chester felt at home.

Their conversation was light. Archbishop Romero wasn't much for conversation, but he ended up getting dragged into the illusionist's pace. Chester even spotted a few smirks whenever he retold a joke or story. Eventually, they came down to the topic of Welton's future.

"We aren't completely defenseless, as you know. But on the off-chance that an enemy kingdom decides to strike, we would be severely undermanned and incur even greater casualties than before. I've requested additional support from the Church, as it would take much longer for Wisperium reinforcements to arrive. They're quite far from us, after all."

"Oh yeah, I've heard about that. A Cardinal is coming, is that right? They can regenerate limbs and eyeballs for those two over there?" The curly-haired man callously pointed his thumb at the vampire generals. Natalia placed her lone arm against the wall, and Jensen looked ready to bolt at the sight of the drunken woman's advancements.

The Archbishop sighed. He pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging them in small circles. "Yes, unfortunately. The Cardinal's abilities are much greater than my own, but her personality...leaves much to be desired."

'Her?'

Chester's interest was piqued almost immediately. He distinctly imagined an irritated-looking woman in a nun costume before returning to the conversation. "Seems like a hassle for you."

"Indeed, indeed. A portion of my paperwork is ensuring that she has the proper living quarters. The Cardinal is quite particular about things like that."

The thief patted Romero on the back. He smiled at him like a comrade who had gone through his own share of troubles.

"Believe me, I know what it's like to deal with picky people. Damien spent most of his time always raising complaints on our way here." Chester coughed before emitting a higher-pitched tone. "Why do you sleep naked? Stop shitting where I can see you! Don't do this! Don't do that!"

Archbishop Romero privately thought that some of those things Damien allegedly said were valid complaints.

"But you know how we get rid of these worries? We drink them away! Cheers!"

The two clinked their cups together, and they both drank the dwarven ale at the same time in one big gulp.

'Letting loose like this every once in a while isn't so bad, I suppose.'

It wasn't long until Damien got dragged into the conversation and forced into a drinking game. Due to his suggestive state of mind, he was easily coaxed into it and many crowded around to watch the scion of Wisperium chug down mugs of pure dwarven ale. The night was young, and despite all the ruckus, every single person could feel their anxieties melting away with every passing hour.

The banquet was a good decision for morale, but it wouldn't be so good when they all woke up in the morning with a ridiculous hangover.