The Feast

The festivities were loud and the smell of smoke and alcohol hung heavily in the air. It was to the point that a sober man might begin to feel tipsy merely by opening the doors to that palace throne room. Once it had been coated in gold and silver and littered with jewels, and then it had been stained with the thick red of Imagawa's blood, and now it was lined with rows and rows of tables filled with men and whole trays of food.

Serving girls negotiated through the boisterous crowd, carrying jugs of the finest summerwine, pouring refills upon refills. Most men wanted more than simple food and drink however, and the alcohol had made them bold. They reached out and grabbed the girls in their drunkness, pulling them in close and seating them on their laps. Most were simply pushed away and laughed at, but some had mastered that art of charm, and with their triumph arose the cheers of their friends.