Arlan sure was upset with the things that happened today that how Oriana was so much drawn towards Ilven siblings and drinking was an effective way to get his mind over it.
Used to the refined taste of expensive wine, the Crown Prince of Griven winced as he downed his drink. The bold, unapologetic taste of the strong Othinian ale burned down his throat. The rich taste of malt was bitter and earthy, but the burning heat at the pits of his stomach made him want to refill his mug for the third time.
At the other side of the table, Azer sat next to Imbert. He took a flagon and poured him a drink. "Sir Loyset, for you."
Imbert looked like he would ignore him again but the knight captain accepted the mug as it would be rude to reject it.
