A delicate snowflake gently landed in Henry's wooden bowl, cooling the brown stew nestled within. Henry took a sip, savoring the comforting warmth spreading from his lips down his throat, bringing a known taste.
"They are enjoying themselves" - the king observed, his gaze scanning the scene before him.
The flames of the bonfire defiantly fought against the falling snow, as natives and soldiers mingled around it, sharing laughter and drinks. Henry even noticed some of his soldiers flirting with willing females. The alcohol gave them the courage to act shamelessly in front of the king, much to Leier's disapproval.
The protective guard caressed her sword's hilt, pondering if a few deaths would be an obstacle to the king's objectives. The intent was palpable, even to the injured Henry.