As usual, a banquet ruled by Lord Wyman was full of abundance and exaggeration, there were various dishes for all tastes, hot and cold, sweet and bitter. The fat lord sat holding a chicken wing with his hands soaked and greasy, intently analyzing a jestering making fun in the heart of his hot hall.

─ Dance again, my esteemed fool.

He said as he wiped his fat hands on the green robe he wore.