"Hisss... Mamba, my son! Are you sure you don't want a drink?"
The usually quiet King Oliyar spoke in a very jubial tone, his hand carrying a jug — No, given his large size it was basically a cask of alcohol.
They were sitting down on a clean carpet floor of a very wide and open room which reminded Berkah of a banquet hall, except there wasn't a single piece of furniture within it.
Oliyar had decided to host a lunch to welcome his newfound son, Mamba. A few of his strongest warriors as well as his sons were present, except for the eldest of course.
"Ah... No, thank you."
Berkah awkwardly sipped a cup of freshly squeezed juice that had a similar taste to the luminescent fruit he ate in the garden.
[I never really understood the hype with alcohol anyway, it tastes like shit and robs you of your rationality.]
[Not that I've ever tasted it...]
