With the promise of a future lingering in the air, the crowd moved like a flood toward the tables, hunger overtaking doubt. Children cried out in delight at warm bread.
Shavralk miners stuffed their cheeks with roasted roots and fire-glazed meat. Even the Draknir tore into their portions with satisfaction.
Zarnak, Tharn, Kaela, and the rest of the Nephirid guard were already weaving through the masses, barking orders, forming rough lanes, and keeping watch over every movement. It was chaos at first, people pushing forward, shoving, afraid it might disappear before they had their share, but each time a platter emptied, it refilled itself like magic.
Tharn stood by one of the tables, arms crossed as he watched a child drop her food, only for the plate to replenish on its own. "Hells… seem like our new city lord is proficient with magic," he muttered.
Kaela stepped beside him, . "You hear what he said up there?"
Tharn grunted. "Hard not to."
