On that same enchanting night, a modest gathering had assembled to commemorate the coronation of Eldoria's newfound village head.
The air was thick with the aroma of smoked meat, and the mellow scent of wine lingered like a tempting secret.
The village, normally cloaked in darkness at this hour, was now illuminated by the warm glow of numerous fires.
Around the central bonfire, the women of Eldoria swayed gracefully to the rhythm of the music, their colorful garments flickering like flames in the night.
Laughter and jubilant cheers filled the air, and the villagers reveled in the festivities, their faces alive with joy.
Yet, amidst the jubilation, Arthur, a solitary figure, found solace on a rough-hewn log just a stone's throw from the lively gathering.
He cradled a cup of crimson wine in his hands, the flickering flames casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on his contemplative face.
