The cyan tent was far away from the main Golden Tent, being closer to the Guna River. There, one could occasionally notice ice floes bobbing and wafting over the waves of the rivers while hearing the never-ending gurgling sounds of the water like the rhythmic pulse of Life.
Within the folds of a tent nearby, there was a banquet going on inside with music and dance performances to entertain the guests. The atmosphere was lively but hardly cacophonous.
On the seat of honor sat a man dressed in a rich, golden robe. He appeared to be in his late thirties and his ordinary facial features were trimmed with bristles of white hair over his temples. From his mature temperament, one could hardly miss the hallmarks of his austere life, the paleness upon his complexion hinted of a suppressed dementia. Holding a wine goblet in one hand and tapping to the playing music with the other, he appeared carefree and at ease.
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