It had taken considerably longer for Elgar to finish his drinks with Symar than Altair would have liked. The Valeguard he had sent to purchase gifts had all but found him there, arms struggling to hold everything they'd bought—they claimed was only a tenth of what had been left behind by the carriage. It mattered little to Altair, sharing a bit of his sweets and candies with the children before they were carted off for their next lesson. He almost wanted to laugh at how teary-eyed they seemed.
"It's about time, you old fool," The Dutchess said, rising to her feet. Even from a mile away, they could tell how uneasily the Old Duke swayed. Transcendent or not, if one wanted to get drunk, all that was necessary was willing their body to metabolize the necessary toxins alcohol had. It took practice, but Elgar was a Transcendent and well over a thousand years old.
