Yrsa greeted everyone at the door, then had a servant lead them into a lounge that was about twice as big as the one in the first-year dormitories and a thousand times as lushly furnished. Thick couches and body hugging chairs filled the room, the wood was all dark stained and exquisitely carved.

Ranvir was struck by the expense as he saw the room, he could’ve easily sold one or two of these chairs and furnished his parents entire house. Not to mention the vases and other knick knacks that decoratively sprawled across dressers and tables. He spotted a circlet hanging on a wall made of silver that would’ve taken his mother at least a month’s work, if she could’ve ever afforded that much of the metal in the first place.

“Wow,” Es muttered from behind him also stuck in the doorway.

Grev were settling himself onto a couch next to Sansir, both seemed remarkably less taken by the extravagance on display.

“Sansir are you seeing this?” Es asked slowly stepping further into the room. One wall had a single painting that was as long as three of Ranvir’s arm spans. It depicted what Ranvir assumed to be the epic of the Sworden family. Ranvir’d heard of a few families commissioning such work back home, but usually much less detailed and on a tapestry. But only if they had a significant story to tell and it was still very expensive. Just not master painter and oil paint expensive.

“I’m seeing it,” Sansir replied to Es, “I’ve just also been to Grev’s home.”

“Oh,” Es wilted slightly before perking up, “So your home looks just like this Grev?”

“Close enough,” Grev waved for them to join him around the table in the middle, “Come sit and stop holding up the birthday boy and his lovely fiancée.”

Es and Ranvir scurried forward realizing that Dovar and Yrsa were chatting a few steps behind them, though, thankfully they seemed mostly amused by their antics. Grev and Sansir had seated themselves at a round table ringed by two double couches and a few chairs. The seats looked comfortable, but not so thickly upholstered that you’d have to fight to get out of them. They were intended for leaning toward the table in the middle.

Making a quick call, Ranvir diverted Es and him to the chairs on either side of Sansir and Grev as to avoid taking the last couch from Dovar and Yrsa. Finally, with everyone seated a servant appeared and started serving everyone chilled wine.

Ranvir’d never had chilled wine before. On the occasions back home that they had chilled anything it was mostly during the winter and was often unwanted. A few times during the summer the mayor had brought out some of their supply of ice and offered chilled drinks, but that was mostly water or in rare cases juice. The few times his parents' had let him have beer or wine before it had never been more chilled than the ambient temperature.

“This beats the wine you served us, Grev,” Es said as tasted the chilled concoction.

“He served you wine?” Dovar asked, cocking his head.

“He got us wine for ‘training’ back during the first trimester,” Sansir said. “I would hardly call it serving us wine. And yes, this is a lot better.”

“Hey,” Grev said placing a hand over his heart. “It’s hard to get wine out to the academy. Even harder to sneak it out so your brother or father won’t notice. Getting quality wine is almost impossible under those circumstances. I did the best I could.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that here,” Yrsa said, letting her thin fingers rest on Dovar’s thick forearm. “Not only is there no sneaking going on, but Byng chilled this bottle himself, as well as charged the freezer before taking off for the evening.”

“Byng?” Ranvir asked.

“He’s our Frost-Bearer,” Dovar replied.

“So he’s the one that fuels the tools you use outside as well?”

Dovar nodded, “We get a lot of use out of Byng during this season, he’s here almost everyday.”

There was a moment of silence in which Grev waved a servant over and muttered something quietly to him. Ranvir saw him shake his hands and lift two fingers at one point.

Es cleared his throat, “So… Dovar… You’re married?”

Sansir who’d been sipping his wine choked on it slightly at Es’ words. He managed to avoid spitting the wine on himself, however, and was only a brief disturbance.

“Uh, no,” Dovar said. “Well not yet. We’re engaged, not married.”

“Well that’s basically the same thing, right?” Es asked.

“It’s really not,” Grev cut in. “Maybe out in the villages, but in noble circles it’s definitely not.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Oh? So you’re not kinda married?”

“We’ve been engaged for five years now,” Yrsa said leaning into Dovar slightly. “It’s an arranged one, though, not a disagreeable one.”

Judging from the look on Dovar’s face, Ranvir would’ve thought maybe Yrsa’s words weren’t emphatic enough. A happy grin came over the broad youth’s face whenever she touched him or leaned into him, even just a little.

“That’s a long time to be kind-of-married,” Es concluded.

“Well, you can’t really marry kids,” Sansir said. “It would be weird.”

Es nodded enthusiastically.

The servant Grev had spoken to returned with a dice cup in hand offering it to Grev alongside another bottle of chilled wine, “Let’s get the celebrations started shall we?”

“We’re playing a game?” Yrsa asked straightening in her seat, suddenly more interested.

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The rules were intuitive, Ranvir, Es, and Sansir quickly picked up on the rules.

“Forty-one,” Es said, lowering the lid cup and scooting it over to Ranvir.

Ranvir hadn’t caught the name of the game, but it was a fairly casual affair that allowed for easy conversation while it went on. He’d also learned that Es rarely lied, to the point that it was never worth calling his bluff.

Picking dice and cup up, Ranvir shook them quickly. He had a slight buzz from the half an hour, or so, of playing the game, though, it had been so long since he’d last been drunk that he didn’t have a fair assessment of his state.

He lifted the cup to peak inside. Thirty-two. Shit, he thought, not high enough. Cursing to himself, he looked around the room. Grev was in the middle of explaining to Dovar how he’d planned this event alongside Yrsa. Ranvir shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Grev already knew of Yrsa, but for some reason he’d forgotten Grev and Dovar ran in the same circles. Maybe it was because they were so different. Also he’d never fucking said anything.

His eyes landed on Sansir, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, “Fifty… one?” Ranvir said scooting the cup over.

“You are terrifyingly bad at this game,” Sansir said lifting the cup and revealing the thirty-two. “Three sips.”

Ranvir grumbled but took his sips which finished his glass again, though, Grev was quick on the refill even in the middle of his story. Drinking from glass was weird, Ranvir was used to clay mug or, at most, wooden tankards. Glass such a weird experience, especially with it as thin as it was.

“Not to be dim,” Grev said his tone catching Ranvir’s attention as he rolled the cup in his hands, “But your sister’s not here?”

“Sveitha?” Dovar asked. “No, she went with mother, father, and Asny to see some exhibit at Tage’s mansion.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Grev moaned in delight, then checked his cup. “Thirty-one.”

“What do you mean?” Es asked perking up as Yrsa took the cup.

“Well,” Grev put the back of his hand next to his mouth, then spoke loudly, “She’s a cunt.”

“She’s not that bad,” Dovar quickly defended.

“You’re delusional because she’s your sister. Tell him Yrsa.”

Yrsa cringed slightly a consoling smile on her lips as she rested a hand on Dovar’s bicep, “He’s not wrong.”

“It’s not like that, though.” Dovar muttered but didn’t finish his argument.

“Let’s change the topic,” Yrsa said reaching for the cup. In her haste she knocked it to the ground and sent the dice sprawling. One ended by Ranvir’s foot and he picked it up then threw it into the cup. He waited for Yrsa to continue the game for a few seconds before he realized she was staring at him.

“What?”

She turned to Grevor, “Bet-Shit?”

Grev’s eyes widened and his mouth spread in an excited grin, “Bet-Shit?”

“And now in elensk for the rest of us mortals,” Sansir said, knocking Grev in the side.

----------------------------------------

“Bet-Shit is a game where you throw,” Grev held up a small leather ball in one hand and a heavy wooden tankard in the other. “A ball into a tankard. The challenge goes on rounds, one challenger and one thrower, then the thrower becomes the challenger and a new thrower is picked and so on. The spectators make bets with each other in sips or drinks. If the thrower misses they have to drink, but the spectators can call ‘unfair’ making the challenger drink instead.”

“That sounds fun as shit!” Es exclaimed excitedly.

----------------------------------------

“What if I lie down?” Es asked.

“I’ll give you ten balls,” Dovar said after a second of estimating.

Es stood three meters from the table where the tankard was placed. A relatively easy throw, why he’d want more balls Ranvir wasn’t sure. Ranvir staggered slightly as the ground tipped under his feet.

“I’ll bet you a drink he’s going make it,” he finally said turning to Grev who looked on amused.

“Deal,” they shook on it as Es laid down. “At first, I was afraid you were going to be too good at this game,” Grev said as Es’ first ball only barely went onto the table, “but now I see that you can’t, at all, judge what is and isn’t a hard throw anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Ranvir slurred then winced as Es missed his fifth throw, “Es is just bad at throwing.”

“Sure,” Grev replied smiling.

Soon, Es’ last ball went wide and Ranvir swallowed down another glass of wine, wincing from the onslaught of flavor. It was good for sipping, not for drinking.

“Alright Ranvir, my turn.” Es sprung to his feet taking his three losers sips. “The cup stays here and you go all the way over there,” he got up on his tip-toes and pointed to the opposite end of the room. “Three balls.”

“Unfair… no?” Yrsa called uncertainly and not overly surprised when she didn’t get much backing.

“Okay,” Ranvir said accepting the three leather balls from Dovar who’d gathered the ones Esmund missed with. He swayed slightly as he made his way to the other end of the room, stumbling once over a thick carpet. For some reason, Dovar decided to go with him but he didn’t even fall that hard.

“You’re a mystery, Ranvir,” Dovar said helping him to his feet. “You know that? You’re struggling to walk but you still throw nearly perfectly.”

“I walk fine,” Ranvir mumbled, though, he did have to admit that the floor swayed a little bit and the buzzing feeling in his head was quite intense alongside the numbness in his tongue.

“I’m sorry?”

“I walk fine.”

Dovar looked at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding his agreement, “For sure, buddy.”

Ranvir stopped at the wall resting one hand against it to steady himself. The room did look pretty long from this far away. Ranvir closed his eyes and focused on the information he got from his powers before he opened them again, he felt more capable of making decision based on it.

Taking his first ball, Ranvir concentrated a moment. It took more effort than it should to still himself but he managed it. The leather ball flew in a graceful arc, just barely touching the ceiling before slapping Esmund straight in the forehead.

“Bam!” Ranvir broke out into giggles as he sank the next ball into the tankard before falling over from laughter.