"Uncle Stormir," Taranis called, moving closer to him. "You aren't enjoying the feast?"
"Haha, look at you, worrying about your uncle," Stormir chuckled, sitting at the edge with his legs hanging freely.
Taranis followed and sat beside him before continuing, "You don't seem happy, Uncle. Is something troubling you?"
Without answering Taranis's question, Stormir drew out a long-necked white jade bottle from his ring, took a few gulps, and tossed it toward Taranis.
"Drink with your uncle, Taranis," Stormir said, his gaze fixed on something distant.
"Despite my looks, I'm only five years old, Uncle," Taranis chuckled, handing the bottle back. "Besides, Nymeria is also here. If she finds out I drank, I don't know if you'll find me in one piece tomorrow."
Stormir merely laughed at Taranis's words—ridiculous as they sounded—yet he knew there was no jest in his voice.
After taking a few more gulps, Stormir finally spoke, his voice low. "I will be leaving tomorrow."
