"I couldn't help but notice that my lady lacks a dance partner. Might I have the honor of this dance?"
The girl's eyes widened in surprise.
The boy playing the flute nearly swallowed his own instrument, mouth agape as if he could fit an entire egg inside.
Peter waited, enjoying the moment. A little mischief never hurt anyone.
"Go on, Noelle. Answer the little lord," teased one of the girls who had been dancing earlier, clearly in on the fun.
Behind him, he could hear barely contained snickers.
Peter didn't miss a beat.
"Indeed. Please grant me the honor of hearing your voice, my lady—even if it is to reject me."
Noelle raised an eyebrow at his words before finally placing her palm in his.
"It would be my pleasure, my lord," she replied, her expression utterly serious.
Peter's smile widened as he proudly led her to the center of the group, stopping in front of the flute player.
Placing one hand on her waist and holding her other hand in his, he gently guided her free palm to his shoulder.
Turning to the musician, he spoke with exaggerated politeness. "Good sir, if we could have the same melody from before, it would be much appreciated."
The flute player, still slightly stunned, gave a quick nod before resuming the tune.
The height difference made things a bit awkward, but Peter did his best to mimic the ballroom dances he remembered. Before long, others joined in, including his friends.
In the end, Noelle took charge, flipping roles and leading like a proper gentleman.
Peter didn't mind. Everyone was laughing, so letting himself be twirled around like a lady for a bit was a small price to pay.
Eventually, growling stomachs signaled the end of their fun, and the group decided to eat together.
As expected, the food was incredible.
While they ate, the dried crop plants were set ablaze, the fire crackling as it spread.
Adults gathered around, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow. Someone was giving a speech, but the words were lost beneath the chatter and laughter at their table.
'I'll ask someone about it later,' Peter thought, pushing the thought aside in favor of the food on his plate.
…
"My fellow villagers, allow me to say a few words before the celebrations begin in earnest," Amelia's voice carried over the gathering.
Not everyone was present, and not everyone was paying attention, but that was fine.
"Normally, my mother gives this speech. However, as you all know, her health is worsening by the day. So, this year, I have taken it upon myself to fulfill this duty."
Many heads nodded in understanding.
"Allow me to express my deepest gratitude for all that you do. We are truly thankful. I would bow, but as the only priest of the Trinity, I am forbidden from doing so. Please forgive me."
"No need for that."
"Yes, no need to apologize."
"The Elder has always been there for us when we needed guidance."
A chorus of voices rose in support. Amelia waited for them to settle before continuing.
"My mother has chosen to use her authority to appoint Mariah, wife of our militia leader."
A few murmurs spread through the crowd.
"A wise choice."
"Indeed. I heard she used to live in a large city."
"Everyone knows that, Mark."
As the voices died down, Amelia gestured toward Mariah, who stood a few steps away, her posture poised yet uncertain under the village's collective gaze.
"I have more delightful news to share with you all," Amelia continued, her voice warm with excitement. "John has finally found a suitable lad for his daughter, Rose, to marry in the nearby village. The wedding will be soon."
A wave of cheers and congratulatory murmurs spread through the crowd.
"Now, let us all give thanks to Avaris of the Trinity for yet another bountiful harvest and pray that she continues to bless our fields with vitality."
The square gradually fell into silence as people closed their eyes, hands clasped in reverence, offering their prayers to the goddess of agriculture and fertility.
.
.
.
"Let's enjoy ourselves to the fullest after a week of hard work in the fields!" Amalia raised her voice, lifting a cup of ginger ale.
Some nodded in agreement, others raised their cups in response, while the rest dispersed to enjoy the festivities.
Amalia didn't mind. She had never cared much for crowds, nor did she enjoy leading or giving speeches.
She preferred solitude.
Perhaps that was why she never married or pursued a higher position in the church hierarchy, despite having the ability to do so.
She was a Tamer—an unusual-ranked class.
Given enough time and resources, she could become a one-woman army.
…
Peter spotted Joseph first and called out, "Hey, Dad."
Joseph turned to him with a knowing look. "Pete. Judging by that belly of yours, I'd say you've already had dinner. How was it?"
"It was good. Especially the roasted pig—that crunchy skin…" Peter sighed in satisfaction. "That was divine."
"Really?" a familiar voice chimed in.
Peter turned to see Mariah standing beside his father. He hadn't noticed her at first, probably because of how broad Joseph's back was.
"Hehe… Not as good as what you make, of course," he added quickly.
She shook her head, though the hint of amusement in her eyes was unmistakable. She was getting used to his flattery.
"I heard your friends are moving to the city. How do you feel about it?" she asked, stepping closer.
"I'll miss them, but it is what it is. Charles has a better future waiting for him in the city. It'd be selfish to wish for him to stay here."
Joseph looked oddly proud at that, while Mariah simply smiled softly and patted his head.