One week later, in the dining hall of the Lord's Mansion, a long table was covered with a pristine white linen tablecloth.
Flickering candlelight made the fall-off-the-bone beef ribs look even more enticing. On silver platters sat honey-drizzled muffins and cheese, and the air was filled with the scents of wine, meat, and burning pine.
Everyone had arrived except for Velin.
"BURP!"
Ola Stonebeard stuffed a large piece of roasted meat into his mouth, gulped down a big mouthful of ale, and let out a rude belch. His reddish-brown beard was smeared with grease.
"Ha! I finally figured it out."
His booming voice echoed through the dining hall, successfully drawing everyone's attention.
"Trying to stab those little things' horns from the front is completely useless! The bastards' Scale Armor is hard and slick!" he exclaimed, waving a beef bone excitedly and sending spit flying.
