The feast had lasted through the whole night, accompanied by drinks and laughter. The crackling fire at the heart of the village cast a comforting glow, warding off the encroaching darkness and offering a sanctuary for all. Henry had retired to his temporary quarters in the house of the village chief, his exhaustion evident as he passed through the door with sluggish steps. Leier followed closely behind, standing guard at the door with a watchful gaze, ensuring no one approached the house.
The following morning, Henry emerged from the house, straightening his black furred coat as he surveyed the area around the bonfire, a thin thread of smoke still rising to the skies. His soldiers were already up and ready with a lingering haze of the previous night's happenings. A few of the soldiers wore wide smiles as they exchanged glances with the women by the doors, who were throwing at them bashful smiles.
