A job well done, enemies killed, rewards reaped—the best and easiest way to put it. It wasn’t anything extraordinary for your group, but since that dragon had been terrorizing the village for generations, it was monumental for them. Its smaller size compared to other known dragons didn’t make it any less of a pain in the arse. It took several hours to figure out how to tip the scales in your favor, quite literally.

With the overgrown fire hazard defeated, the villagers couldn’t be happier. They were so grateful that everyone was rewarded with more coins than they had ever seen. Honestly, what do you even do with that kind of money? Celebrate, of course. That same afternoon, the entire party and the village were enjoying themselves, singing and drinking to their hearts’ content. Astarion, in particular, was savoring some blood-infused alcohol at the bar, courtesy of the darling bartender.

He wasn’t really mingling anymore, more so taking a social break to eat and drink. Even in his brief respite, he was still swarmed with admirers—some drunk, some not—all eager to shower him with attention and gifts. Trinkets, flowers, and promises of undying affection were handed to him with every passing moment, since , well, he was this kingdom's beauty standard, so he relished every bit of the attention. He leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement and satisfaction as he took a leisurely sip of his drink. The revelry and the adoration of the crowd were intoxicating in their own right, and he let himself indulge as much as he could.