This was going to be a banquet like no other. A giant field outside Tumblar was turned into a fair ground: long tables were almost breaking from the amount of food and drinks placed on them; on a giant stage minstrels and bards were getting ready to entertain the crowd with songs, stories, and jokes; there were different game stations as well - apple bobbing, ring toss, even the archery practice for the more daring of the Knights. Occasionally, one would spot a wooden pole, on which a purple banner would be mounted, bearing this symbol:

"It looks quite well, Sire," a chamberlain holding a quill and a notepad said. "I-I'm sure the noble guests will be pleased with this feast. Your position is bound to improve!"

Cipher grabbed one of the tankards from the table and smelled it. Sweet aroma, with a gentle hint of salt. The fine vintage of Ha'ter Rayge. The Merchant swiped some dust off of his fur coat and dismissed his servant. "Thank you, Basil. For now, let's put the politics aside." He looked over and gave the man a smile. "After all, it's a feast. Now, if you excuse me, I should go and welcome the first arrivals."

((Ladies and gentlemen, we are a go! Merry Christmas to all, and let's have some fun!))