Music resumed. Guests proceeded to the garden where the banquet lay. Moths hovered over the tall electric lamps. Alter squashed a mosquito. He shivered as a sudden chill stroked his back. Chefs carved up chicken for those who wanted to rest, and they carried plates heaped with food to claim a seat at an empty table. Others helped themselves to an assortment of puff pastries and nockerl, small snacks that let conversations continue. As the yawns increased and the chatter dwindled, one by one and pair by pair people bid adieu and strolled to the village inns.

Alter and Arwen relaxed in the rose garden. Arwen was a bit tipsy. He had quite a lot to drink. At least twenty-eight bottles of beer, and he was saturated with wine. Arwen popped a cork.

Alter grabbed the bottle, "You've had enough."

Arwen gave it a tug, but Alter's grip held firm, "I've never drank in my life until a few years ago. Let me have my fill before I pass."

I have got to stop drinking so much. I've become an alcoholic. I'm giddy with liquor!

Alter, exhausted, loosened his tie. He wanted nothing to do with Arwen. He just wanted to sleep. He covered his eyes with a hand.

Arwen jammed the cork back into the bottle and said, "So, Elias and Dorabella. What a surprise."

"They're as different as people can be. A morally sturdy person, and, like Elin said, one hell of a corrupt bastard."

"Elias is trying his best to repair his family image. He's a good man, a clean politician. We found nothing odd in our investigation. That's a first, for that family."

"That can be changed."

Arwen conceded, "Yes."

"The Casteels are cockroaches. The family's committed countless felonies and murder, and yet, they're still here. Perhaps it's time for there to be four."

Arwen shook his head, "It is established that the sins of the family will not be forced onto the children. The people may believe Elias did something, but Caspara is too righteous for anyone to believe she committed a crime. She exudes an aura like that of a bloodhound wolf mix. The hunger of a wolf and the tenacity of a bloodhound. I would not want to antagonize her."

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Alter crossed his legs, the action jolting his brain awake, "She's doing quite well for herself, working in the ASSR."

"What of Dorabella? We cannot touch her using our regular means. She will only gain in strength if we fail to suppress her now.

"Dorabella is of no concern."

Arwen pointed at him with the bottle, "Are you sure you're strong enough? Dorabella is a formidable opponent. She survived the Soldier Dragon Project where young people succumbed, and she knows the Ancient Arsenic language." He tossed the bottle and caught it by the neck, "Her mind is far more difficult to unravel than most. If you underestimate her, it will be you who is destroyed."

Alter intercepted the toss and held the bottle in midair.

He spoke, jaw clenched, "Without question, I am stronger." He reclined in his seat, placing the wine on a chair to his left out of Arwen's reach, "What's more concerning are those who break party lines, and lines, once broken, cannot be redrawn."

Arwen looked at the bottle wistfully, "It will be interesting to see who's an ally and who's an ant. Shall we hold a wager?"

Alter sighed, "No legal gambling shall take place outside a gambling house designated by the government of Arseny as such. You dare break your own law?"

"You're a prosecutor now, eh?"

"I'm tired."

"What are you tired for?" Arwen rummaged in his coat and took out a beer. He tossed it to Alter, who let it land in his lap. "Have a drink. You'll still be tired, but at least you'll feel warm, and it may ease you into sleep quicker, though in your case I think you have to drink a few dozen bottles."

Alter refused the drink. The chill of the cold glass seeped through his pants.

"You don't drink. Why is that?"

"I don't like the taste."

"Well, you've not tried it. How could you know how it tastes?"

Alter looked away.

"Go on, give it a try and then, I'll consider your opinion."

Alter sighed. He popped the cap. A bitter scent mixed with...herbs of some sort, cut down the sweetness wafting out. It smelled like some madman smeared mud over a rag and wrung into the bottle a most foul secretion.

One bottle and I'll be free of his nagging.

He downed the beer, foam and all. His face glowed ruby red.

Arwen laughed, "A fascinating reaction to a drink with low alcohol content."

Alter hid his face with his large hands and lifted his feet onto the seat so he could bury his face in them. "Yes, I have a low tolerance."

"Just like your mother! I wonder if you become loose-lipped like her." He saw how flushed Alter's ears were, not just from beer, and stopped his teasing.

The boy is tired.

"I'll clean this up."

Alter tried to stand to help, but couldn't without swaying.

Arwen helped him sit down. "I can clean up."

Muddled thoughts swirled around Alter's mind.

"Have a good rest-" Arwen mumbled- "You've worked hard."

"Because of you." The words tumbled off his tongue, and he forgot to ask what it was Arwen had whispered. His eyes closed on their own as someone draped a woolen coat over him, tucking in the warmth.