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In the palace of Toro-Se, the emperor’s slaves served the feast.
Rogero’s men stared at it wide-eyed.
These were the kinds of foods Rogero often made them believe they were eating. The roast boar with wine-soaked figs. Whole quail baked into loaves of round bread, seasoned with garlic and splashed with herb-infused oil. Platters of fish and a variety of creatures from the sea. Slabs of venison and red elk.
And wine, as much as any of them could drink.
Rogero’s men were prepared to drink an ocean.
He looked around the lavish banquet hall at his men’s lean and famished faces. Rogero had failed these men, and he knew it.
No less did he fail the men whose bodies he left behind.
This feast was in celebration of the warriors’ return after so many long months away.
Rogero felt no urge
