Chapter 33: Land
Historical experience tells us that a celebration must always end with feasting and drinking, something inevitable and unstoppable.
Winters had originally intended to spend less and accomplish more, but the atmosphere in the square had just been whipped into a climax.
He really couldn't bear to tell the cheering crowd, "The garrison can't afford to host a feast for the whole city, everyone should go home, that's all."
Watching his purse inevitably bleed out, Winters's smile grew sadder and sadder.
Old Priskin tottered up to the scaffold, confirmed his grandson was truly unharmed, and the first thing he did was to give little Priskin a hard slap while tears streamed down his face.
After the slap, Old Priskin didn't say a word to his grandson.
Wiping away his tears and with a smile, he came just in time to relieve the financially strained new Burgher of his worries, "My lord, the guilds of Revodan beg to arrange a great banquet in your name and hope you will grant us this honor."