Pandora Unchained - B1C59: A Dinner with Friends

Formal dinners were a staple of upper-class life in big cities. As a member of the Kepler Clan, Sorin had attended many such events. It fell to the head of a household to host formal dinners, and for the first time, Sorin found himself in the position to do so. He didn't have the same financial ability he used to have, but that didn't stop him from offering his best. His friends deserved no less than his best.

A symphony of smells currently filled the Kepler Manor. Percival and Clarice were taking turns in the kitchens while also making sure that the entire house was clean and essentials like mana lamps, tea, and alcohol were fully stocked.

There wasn't much for Sorin to do as the head of the household. Usually, it would fall to him to study his guests and their habits and create a plan on how to keep everyone entertained. Still, since only four guests would be in attendance, this step could be omitted in favor of cleaning up and general relaxation.

A hot bath was precisely what Sorin needed to unwind. He washed his hair and toweled off before donning a white cotton shirt and navy wool pants. Each was freshly pressed, courtesy of Percival. He finished the outfit off with a pair of snake leather shoes, a navy tie, and silver serpentine cufflinks that matched the silver serpentine buckle on his snake leather belt.

Come on, Sorin, pull yourself together, thought Sorin as he oiled his hair. It's only been three years since you've done something like this. You're a natural. All the people trying to suck up to you in the past said so multiple times. Once his hair was tidied, he applied a faint mist of cologne. Just strong enough to make a statement but not strong enough to offend.

Since Percival and Clarice were busy, it fell to Sorin to groom Lorimer. The rat had been bathed in the morning and had not gone out to the sewers, so Sorin applied a double dose of cologne on the rat, dressed him in a custom suit shirt combo he'd commissioned with a local tailor, then finished off the ensemble with a tiny bow tie fastened with a silver serpentine clip that matched Sorin's.

"I hope you can be on your best behavior tonight, Lorimer," said Sorin as he adjusted his own tie. "If you cause a scene, I'll never tolerate you at such events again. And you know what that means, don't you? It means you'll miss how on your share of expensive food." Said food was going to cost him 32 gold coins for a single meal. That didn't even include the cost of wine, whisky, and other drinks, in addition to all the time that was spent preparing.

It was a little past five when the first guest arrived. Sorin personally opened the door to welcome Stephan with a firm handshake and half-hug. "I'm glad you could make it," said Sorin, looking the man up and down. "Nice suit. I didn't realize they made them in your size."

Stephan chuckled as he handed his coat to Percival, who was shadowing Sorin. "It's a hassle to make one every time since I grow every time I break through, but I find it's well worth the trouble."

"Pardon Mr. Kepler for his rudeness, but would you like something to drink," said Percival. "And please, let's get you out of the cold and into the sitting room."

Sorin escorted Stephan to the living room and gestured to an entire three-person couch. The large man took up half of it, then accepted a drink that Percival stealthily placed on a glass coffee table. He downed the entire contents and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Now that hit the spot," said Stephan. "Is this Dalwig?"

"Aged 30 years," said Sorin. He took a sip from his own glass and grimaced. "Unfortunately, I don't believe they make alcohol that can affect me anymore. There are advantages and disadvantages to every cultivation method."

Stephan chuckled. "At least you can drink everyone under the table with no effort. And if you don't know them well, you can pretend to be drunk. It's a great information-gathering tactic. Speaking of which…" His ears twitched, then his nose. "I think I smell Lawrence. Dead gods, I think he dressed up. I think he shaved."

Sorin opened the door to find a charming and youthful man grinning from ear to ear. "Stephan was right," said Sorin, ushering him in. "You're practically unrecognizable."

"It's your fault for holding a formal event," said Lawrence, tossing his coat to the nimble Percival. "Do we do the heavy drinking now or after dinner?"

"I believe I'll be teaching you a lesson after the fine meal Sorin's cooks have prepared," Stephan said as Lawrence took a seat. "But feel free to warm up. I'll match you, drink for drink."

Lawrence sat down with uncharacteristic grace and requested wine when Percival asked him for his drink of choice. "Is this Pinot du Lac? It's definitely one of their better years."

"I didn't realize one of Sorin's companions was a man who knew his wine," said Percival. "Perhaps we can discuss the topic a little later?"

"As long as there's wine to drink, I'm happy to chat on the subject," said Lawrence. "What? I am capable of refined behavior."

"I didn't say anything," said Stephan. "But I believe Sorin is completely shocked by this revelation."

"I thought your father was an adventurer," said Sorin. "Sorry, but it doesn't quite match the stereotype."

"Adventurers can do non-adventuring things," said Lawrence defensively. "He was quite the social butterfly, you know. As a result, not many people dared cause trouble for him."

"I heard it was because he had a great deal of blackmail on important figures," said Stephan. "I mean, am I wrong? Should I fire my informants?"

Lawrence cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm sure there were many reasons. Ah, our two stragglers are at the door." He latched onto the change of topics like a lifeline.

"It's exactly quarter after five," said Sorin, checking the old clock in a corner of the living room. "It seems Miss Daphne took my warning about punctuality to heart." He opened the door to find a man wearing a simple suit, Gareth, and a shivering lady in a flimsy dress, Daphne.

"Have you never heard of dressing for the weather," said Sorin, ushering them in and shutting the door as soon as they were inside. "Or maybe you thought yourself immune to cold given your vast and mighty powers?"

"I offered her my coat, but she refused," said Gareth. "Though by then, we were almost here, so I can't blame her for doubling down on her choice of dress."

"I learned a new spell that was supposed to stop all this nonsense," said Daphne through chattering teeth. "It's called Fire Within, a Tier 0 spell. Whoever made it was apparently exaggerating the weather protection properties it provided. If he wasn't already dead, I'd burn his house down."

"I've always been a fan of the saying dress for the weather, but prepare for the storms," said Gareth, handing his coat to Percival. "Feel free to borrow my coat on the way back."

"That won't be necessary," said Percival to Gareth. "We have spare coats in case of such mishaps, and Miss Phillips is welcome to one or even two to see her home safely."

"I'm sure it's just a problem with the fine-tuning," Daphne grumbled. "But I'll bother you for a large cup of tea. Five spoons of sugar. And yes, I'm sure."

"Tea?" asked Sorin, escorting them into the sitting room. "I thought you and the other mages were committed to coffee."

"It's actually quite a contentious topic, similar to the spear versus needle debate," said Daphne as she accepted a hot drink and held it in her hands to thaw them. "There's free 'coffee' in the café at the Mages Guild, but they'll allow substitution with common brands of tea if you ask for it. Wait, is that Lorimer? He's adorable!"

The rat had just skittered down the stairs and joined them, completing their party. He even had his own small couch, which Percival made for him one day prior. It was the only piece of furniture he didn't gnaw on, much to Percival and Clarice's chagrin.

Lorimer squeaked loudly at Percival, and the butler immediately brought him a cup of coffee. "You can understand him?" asked Sorin, surprised. "I thought you just asked him yes or no questions to communicate."

"We've built a certain rapport over time, and I, therefore, understand a few polite requests," Percival replied. "But they have to be polite requests, understand. Made with good timing and with all the best intentions." Lorimer squeaked an affirmative, and the butler answered his squeaks with a warm smile. "By the way, dinner is almost ready. Shall we move into the dining room at your convenience?"

"We'll stay here for another quarter-hour to give Daphne time to warm up," replied Sorin.

"Very good," said Percival. "I'll coordinate with Clarice to set up the silverware and finish the remaining dishes."

The group made small talk as Daphne sipped on her hot drink. Color soon returned to her face. As a mage, she had much less endurance and vitality than other cultivators and, therefore, took much time to stop shivering.

Sorin took the opportunity to evaluate his companions from a social standpoint. Lawrence was obviously middle class with a decent education, while Daphne was from a wealthy family, as shown by her knowledge of etiquette, the approximate value of her dress, as well as her attendance to classes at the Mages Guild for ten years.

Gareth, on the other hand, was an unknown to Sorin. He was a silent and taciturn man who didn't like to embellish. It was, therefore, difficult to know whether his conservative suit was well-worn due to frequent attendance to similar social events or if it was something second-hand or a hand-me-down that he wore with a grace that belied his status.

Once Daphne finished warming up, they moved into the dining room, where Clarice was currently cutting into a roast of cured pork. A three-foot roasted shimmer fish lay at the center of the table, alongside pan-fried squash, a corn and pork paté, and a salad so fresh it defied the cold weather that would soon sweep through the outpost.

Percival served them each a glass of red wine and proceeded to hover around the table. "A slice of shimmer fish, please," Lawrence instructed Clarice when she moved on to cutting up the roasted fish.

"I think it should be ladies first," said Stephan. "What would you like, Daphne? Ignore this rude rogue."

"I'll take some cured pork, thank you very much," said Daphne. "Unless Lawrence insists on gender equality?"

"You guys always team up on me," said Lawrence, crossing his arms. "Whatever. I don't care. I'll eat last."

Sorin helped himself to a few side dishes as he waited for the main dishes to be served. He looked to Lorimer as he accepted a thick slice of fish and noted that the rat had been given his own table with its own assortment of delicacies.

I don't think there's ever been such a pampered rat in the history of Pandora, thought Sorin as he dug into his meal. The fish had a slightly metallic taste thanks to the mineral-rich waters it grew in. It was slightly poisonous for commoners, but cultivators could eat as much as they liked.

"I'm thrilled to finally have you all to my place," said Sorin, raising a glass of wine. "I wish I could host you all in my hometown with all the pomp and splendor I once could muster, but times have changed. This is the best I have to offer, and while it's far from enough, I hope you can accept it.

"As many of you know, it's customary to hold toast at the beginning of the meal. I'll keep this toast simple and offer it to friendship. Because we've become more than just teammates now. If you ever need help, I won't hesitate to walk on sharp glass and through searing flames to assist you. You can consider whatever is mine as yours."

They each took a sip of their wine and turned to Stephan, the leader of their party. "I'm not sure I can top a toast like that, but so I'll aim for second best. Here's to the continued success of the team: 'We don't need a life mage'. May our slogan ring true, from Bloodwood Forest all the way to Mount Olympus."

"To wealth and glory," said Gareth, raising his glass next.

"To wonderful stories," said Daphne, issuing the next toast. "And to the success of the book series I just signed, based on our adventures."

"You signed a book deal?" exclaimed Lawrence. "Without telling us? Where's my cut? Oh wait, it's my turn. To see all the pretty things, to robbing tombs – I mean, to archeology – and all that other fun stuff. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about."

"You're not using our names, are you?" Stephan asked Daphne when everyone set their glasses down.

"Of course not," said Daphne. "Most of our names are fine, but who would use Lawrence in a storybook? Honestly."

"Then there's no problem," said Stephan. "Don't let Lawrence badger you for a cut of the profits. You're a mage, and you need all the gold you can get your grubby hands on."

"Tell me about it," muttered Daphne. "The Mages Guild is claiming partial ownership of the manuscript."

"On what grounds?" asked Sorin.

"The guild publication rules," said Daphne. "But that rule was clearly made for spells and research papers!"

"I'm honestly not surprised," said Sorin, who'd learned of the Mages Guild's shameless money-earning methods firsthand. "Lorimer, do you have anything else to add?" The rat froze and then issued a series of loud squeaks. "He says he's delighted to have such fine companions and hopes that you'll all spare some demon cores for a pitiful and starved rat. Hey, wait, I don't starve you, Lorimer. I feed you as much as I can and according to merit. The reason you don't eat well is because you keep getting in trouble."

"A rat after my own heart," said Lawrence with a sigh. "Why don't you transfer your contract over to me, little Lorimer? I'll treat you much better than he does."

Lorimer replied with a few squeaks, and when Lawrence asked for a translation, Sorin did so honestly. "He says you aren't worthy. Sorry, Lawrence, but this rat has standards."