Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 26 Dinner

"Well done, kid," Kingsley praised. "You were the first to spot this smuggled goods. Very good."

"Ahem, by the way, Hans," Kingsley cleared his throat, "this little guy is Bishop Victor's handpicked clerical assistant, how could you let an eight-year-old like him go searching for things with you?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Hans realized he hadn't paid much attention, "I wasn't really thinking. Logically, everyone here should be able to go to the warehouse to check the items, since we don't have a clerical assistant position..."

"Alright, that's settled then. The little guy has done a great job this time. Wow, 'Lord' Victor will be very pleased," Kingsley continued.

"We immediately sent them to experts for testing. There were twenty of them in total, these smuggled goods packaged in sealed ceramic containers with spiritual insulating properties."

I opened a container and found that it contained at least top-tier, second-level spiritual materials.

It was already very late, and Fafnir and the night watchmen were all feeling tired.

Fafnir just wanted to take a hot bath and then sleep soundly until dawn, but he didn't usually have the means to take a hot bath.

By the way, where did Mr. Victor go? Will I need to find a carriage to get home later? I don't have much money on me.

"It's my treat today, let's go to the Harbor Restaurant," Kingsley announced solemnly.

"good!"

"Thank you, Chief!"

"marvelous!"

Fafnir perked up upon hearing this.

……

The "harbor restaurant" that Kingsley mentioned was actually right across from the inspection team's compound, separated only by a stone path.

The two-story stone house has light yellow exterior walls, stained glass windows, and a bronze plaque with a menu engraved on it at the entrance.

The sign above the porch swayed gently in the night breeze, displaying the two large, generic words "Golden Anchor".

"Golden Anchor Harbor Restaurant," Hans noticed Fafnir looking at the sign, "the best restaurant in Ryan Harbor, we usually can't afford to come here."

Kingsley walked in front, pushed open the heavy oak door, and a wave of heat carrying the aroma of food wafted out.

Fafnir subconsciously sniffed; the smell was more complex than any food he had ever smelled—the smoky aroma of roasted meat, the sweetness of cream, the richness of wine, and a hint of roasted nuts. The flavors blended together, creating distinct layers.

It was very warm, and Fafnir, who was only wearing a thin robe, was surprised. He had left his priest's robe in the inspection team's office building.

The light-colored wooden floors in the lobby were polished to a shine, reflecting the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

Tables covered with white tablecloths were neatly arranged, and several tables of guests were dressed in neat formal attire, appearing to be businessmen or ship owners.

The fireplace in the center of the hall was burning brightly, and the orange-red flames reflected on the surrounding walls, making the whole space feel warm and bright.

A middle-aged man in a white shirt and black vest came up to us with a standard professional smile on his face.

"Lord Demery, you've arrived." He gave a slight bow, his gaze sweeping over the group behind Kingsley, lingering for a moment on Fafnir.

Eight-year-old Fafnir, with wool lint stuck in his hair and his tattered robe stained with dirt, stood out conspicuously among a group of adults dressed in night watchman uniforms.

But his professional smile remained unchanged, not even lingering for half a second longer.

"Ten people in the private room on the second floor tonight," Kingsley said.

"Okay, please follow me."

After going up the stairs to the second floor, the supervisor led them into a large private room at the end of the corridor.

In the middle was a long table that could seat twelve people, with gleaming silver cutlery, a napkin folded into a triangle, and a crystal wine glass in front of each person.

Two candlesticks sat on a cabinet against the wall, their flickering flames illuminating the room. Several oil paintings depicting harbor scenes hung on the wall.

Fafnir paused at the doorway for a moment, glancing down at his dirty shoes leaving a faint gray trail on the dark carpet. He instinctively pulled his feet back, unsure whether he should go inside.

Someone pushed him from behind.

"Go in, little one." It was the night watchman who had helped him shear sheep that afternoon, whose name seemed to be Gregory, Fafnir heard Hans call him that.

Gregory grinned. "What's there to be afraid of? Besides—" He looked down at his boots, which were covered in the same wool scraps and mud. "We're all the same."

Fafnir nodded, went into the room, and sat down in the corner by the door.

"Why are you sitting so far away?" Kingsley had already pulled out the chair and sat down, gesturing with his chin towards him: "Come here, sit here."

Fafnir hesitated for a moment, then got up and moved over to sit down to Kingsley's right.

The chair was too high, so when he sat on it, his legs dangled in mid-air, and his chin just touched the edge of the table.

"Haha," Gregory chuckled, "Sir, are you letting the little fellow sit next to you so he can smell the food?"

Hans's lips twitched slightly.

Fafnir straightened his back a little, but it was no use.

Kingsley glanced at him, then turned to the foreman and said, "Bring a mat."

The foreman returned quickly, carrying a deep red velvet cushion.

He walked over to Fafnir, placed a cushion on the chair, and bowed slightly.

Fafnir sat back down, his line of sight finally level with the table.

"Thank you, Lord Kingsley."

"Hmm," Kingsley picked up his crystal glass and took a sip of water. "You're welcome, kid. Remember to tell Victor about the bill later; put it on his tab."

Everyone laughed again.

The head waiter handed over the menu, but Kingsley didn't even look at it and just rattled off a few dishes.

The food was served quickly, with waiters carrying large trays in and out, soon filling the long table.

A large platter piled high with roasted ribs, brushed with a dark sauce, glistened in the candlelight; a whole roasted fish sat on a long platter, its body covered with lemon slices and herbs; a pot of creamy stew simmered, filled with large chunks of chicken…

There was also a large bowl of vegetable salad and a basket of white bread...

Fafnir forked a piece of rib and took a bite. The meat was roasted until very tender, falling off the bone with a single bite, and the sauce was sweet and salty, richer than any meat he had ever eaten.

He was so engrossed in eating that he didn't even notice the sauce smeared on his face.

Kingsley pushed the untouched vegetable salad in front of him toward Fafnir, gesturing for him to have some.

Hans also placed a piece of fish on Fafnir's plate, removing the bones, saying, "Don't just eat meat, eat some fish too."

Seeing this, Gregory, not wanting to be outdone, scooped a spoonful of cream stew and poured it over Fafnir's rice: "Come on, try this. The cream stew here is the best in all of Ryan Harbor."

……

"Cheers, little guy!"

The crystal glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound.

Fafnir raised his apple juice glass, lightly clinked it against Kingsley's glass, and said softly, "Thank you, Lord Kingsley."

"Work hard from now on." Kingsley downed his drink in one gulp.