One large table separated the Have-nots from the Haves. Twenty sat at the large table; they no longer wore their armor of steel or carried weapons for the safety of their lord. Knights or lords, all the men were intimidating to their inferiors. Peasants who would have never left their homes now served the table of the men who ruled, even their lord. Never trained in how to serve nobility, the dozen or so women wore faces white with worry.
Edwin didn't fault them; in fact, he admired the women. In just two days, they managed to prepare a feast and learn enough of table etiquette. His face was just as white from anxiety.
Robert sat at the head of the table, slick juices from the fat of a duck leg he gripped like a battle axe in his left hand dripped down his black beard. A pint of ale, nursed in his right hand like a shield, washed down the roast duke, "Or the few drops that make it to his mouth," Edwin chuckled to himself. Roberts most expensive outfit, the one reserved for occasions such as these, was now a damp towel of Food stains and Ale spills.
To his right sat nobody; three seats, side by side, sat empty. These were seats of honor, reserved for the duke and his family. "Who seems to be late?" Edwin wondered at that.
Past the empty seats sat the knights who escorted the duke; the three men with the icons of rocks, the Mowbray man, the Clary's man, and some others.
To the left of the table sat Anna, whose eyes spoke of great anger directed at the ever-increasing drunkenness of Robert. Following Anna was Stuart, who was sitting at ease without so much as a care shown towards the power of the men who surrounded him.
Edwin, who sat next to Stuart, leaned into his ear. "How are you so comfortable?" He whispered with genuine curiosity.
"When you live as long as I have, you learn that all men are human, no matter the expense of their armor," Stuart answered.
Edwin nodded and turned back to his food, a plate of pork and vegetables courtesy of Theda, who slaved away in the small kitchen of the keep. Right of Edwin was another Knight, this one wore the dragon flag, "Leicester," Edwin knew.
The man of Leicester tore into a chicken thigh like a wolf starved from a brutal winter. He was bald, with a gut that hung out over his pants. Horrendously, a terrible burn ruined what might once have been a comely face. Feeling Edwin's eyes upon him, he brought his food closer to himself, afraid that Edwin was going to steal it.
Other knights filled the rest of the table, including Sir Cripple, Finchley, who gave Edwin a respectful nod.
Edwin looked in futility for Arthur; he would be outside in the courtyard, where another table had been set up for the pages, squires, and assistants.
Knights cheered, joked, and laughed as the day drew on; casks of ale were continuously brought out, only to be drained by the endless appetite of the knights, often led by a now-slurring Robert. Edwin couldn't help but feel happy for his father; he was happy. Feasts with people whom he had shared blood and stories with were scarce in the small, isolated lands of House Sonder.
Robert stood tall, catching himself on the table as he arose, a mug of ale full and frothing lifted to the sky. "To the Duke!" He shouted to a cacophony of cheer and clamor as the intoxicated knights banged fists and cups against the table.
Duke John Talbot entered the fray of drunkenness with arms wide, "My friend, I hope you can forgive my lateness."
The man was no young-looking red-haired youth like Edwin had sworn he recalled. He was an older man with aged wrinkles and white hair from a lifetime of stress. He wore no crown of gems or garments made by tailors beyond the imagination of expense. Instead, he wore plain clothes no different from a peasant, besides how well they fit him.
Duke Talbot strode over to Robert and embraced him in a tight hug. Edwin was surprised at the seeming closeness of the two. Robert, always boisterous and quick to tell stories, had never mentioned the duke as a comrade.
"I had sought to show earlier, but I was... tending to family matters." John gestured to the two following behind him.
Edwin recognized the first one immediately as the one he had mistook for the duke. He wore an entirely new outfit of embroidered green and gold. Sat neatly atop his head was the same crown, "Beautiful," Edwin thought to himself. Up close, Edwin could tell it was much more expensive than he originally thought.
John pushed him forward, "My son Hugh."
Hugh gave a low, sweeping bow that stirred a sense of jealousy in Edwin. "I will never be able to be as elegant as this man," Edwin thought.
Robert, deep into his drink, gave the young man a huge hug like he had his father and spoke words that were drowned out by the loudness of the room. Edwin noticed Hugh frown at his father's embrace.
"Don't forget me, Father." Another spoke after Huge had taken her seat.
Like a hypnotist working his trade on a crowd, Edwin was immediately entranced by the figure across the table from him. She was beautiful. "No, she is perfect," Edwin corrected. She wore a green dress with traces of gold, not unlike Huge's outfit. Flows at the bottom transformed into a tight-fitting Bodice that showcased her perfect womanly figure. Her bright red hair was neatly and ornately tied together in a knot. Edwin noticed small golden flowers stuck here and there in her hair.
Edwin's eyes were locked onto her. Quickly, he forgot that others surrounded him or what the feast was all about. Even as she finished greeting his father and walked over to take a seat, his eyes followed her. She politely took her seat in the open chair directly across the table from Edwin.
"Have you not heard?" The woman asked
Edwin, so infatuated with her, had failed to notice she was staring back. He gulped with his suddenly dry mouth, "Hear... Heard what?"
Her smile brought a deep red blush to Edwin's cheeks. "Haven't you heard that it's rude to stare?"