The Banquet
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FineprintChapter 5: Banquet free porn video
Dennis adjusted his new tie, the downy, shining fur standing out brilliantly against his black suit. It was the focal point of the outfit, a uniquely Borealan touch to a human style that conveyed status as much as sophistication. The rainbow spider fur was worn only by those of high standing in Borealan culture. His participation in the hunt, however passive it had been, and his position as ambassador to Earth qualified him to wear it. He turned to Xhe, who was standing behind him as he preened in front of the mirror.
“How do I look?”
“It is appropriate,” she replied, appraising his tie. “I do believe that you are the first human to wear this fur.”
Dennis beamed and polished the UN badge on his lapel. The Patriarch had finally requested his presence at a great banquet to be held in the ivory spire, one day before the eclipse came and the planet fell into winter. Xhe would be attending as his aide and translator. Although the Patriarch spoke good English, many of the regents and Alphas who would be dining with them did not. Xhe was dressed in her usual flowing, gossamer gown. Dennis got the impression that there were no situations in which she did not want to look her best, be it attending a banquet with the Patriarch or trekking through a muddy jungle.
“I have one more thing for you,” Xhe said, reaching into a small bag that sat on the dresser. She withdrew something wrapped in a mauve cloth. She handed it to Dennis, and he peeled the fabric back to reveal a set of shining silverware. A fork, a knife and two sizes of spoon, their handles elaborately decorated. His eyes lit up.
“Where on Earth did you find these? Er, sorry, it’s an expression. I mean where did you get them?”
“As I had suspected, some of the cargo offloaded from an old UNN ship that my Lord Patriarch had purchased some time ago included these items, they had been languishing in storage. Borealans have no need of cutlery, nobody who saw them knew what their purpose was, and so they were confined to a warehouse. Fortunately, after I put out the request, one of the warehouse managers came forward and informed me that he had seen tools matching the description. It was a simple matter to locate and procure them.”
“Xhe if I could reach, I’d hug you.”
Dennis had everything that he needed to represent humanity. A snappy suit, a fine tie, appropriate silverware and topics of conversation. He was ready. He retrieved the stasis unit containing the Kobe beef from his belongings and tucked it under his arm, following Xhe out of the door.
The pair were admitted to the ivory tower by Royal Guards clad in red armor, and they ascended the winding staircase up into the structure. On Earth, Dennis had worked on the eighty-second floor of a skyscraper. Even under the crushing gravity, a six-floor climb was not a big deal, but he was concerned about losing his footing on the oversized steps and falling. He stuck close to Xhe, knowing that she had the cat-like reflexes required to catch him should he slip. They reached the top floor and were admitted to a grand dining hall through two giant doors made from dark, varnished wood.
It appeared to be a gigantic, open balcony that looked out over the city. The expansive room was open to the air, Dennis could see heavy wooden shutters that had been raised between the marble pillars that supported the roof, it looked as if they could be closed in the winter to insulate the room. The view was incredible, towering above the cityscape, the domed rooftops and arches extended in every direction as far as the eye could see. In the middle of the room was a great table, clearly carved from a single towering tree, similar to the one from the Ranger longhouse. This one, however, was larger and more elaborately carved. Each leg that held it up had been carefully sculpted into the pawed leg of a Borealan, complete with textured fur and pointed claws. The surface was patterned with the natural rings of the original tree, polished as smooth as glass. The stools that seated the Patriarch’s guests were no less elaborate. Borealans seemed to dislike chairs, perhaps because they constrained their tails?
The walls were decorated with curtains made from fine cloth and beautifully embroidered tapestries displaying the customary scenes of war and hunting, some of which looked extremely old. Dennis smiled as he noticed a depiction of a rainbow spider woven in silver thread, perhaps from the very fur of the animal itself. It was surrounded by small figures brandishing spears, or maybe glaives as they challenged it. Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling along the length of the table, colorful gems hanging from their arms on the ends of delicate chains. Unlike the ones from the Ranger longhouse, these were electric. There was a large banner placed behind the throne at the head of the table, adorned with the strange Borealan script. The writing was curved and halting, like claw marks in sand, which may very well have been how it had originated in their ancient past. He couldn’t guess at what it meant, but the significance of its placement was obvious. The Patriarch sat in his throne, a wooden base with a tall, baroque headboard that extended far into the air above his head. It was gilded with rare metals, jewels and the bones of fell beasts. It made a clear statement. This was the seat of the Patriarch, at the head of the table as he was at the head of Elysia, and perhaps the whole planet.
Along the length of the great table were seated two dozen dignitaries, Alphas and regents, who knew what else. Each one was more elaborately dressed than the last. Their clothing and finery blended with their diverse patterns and pigments to dazzle Dennis. All eyes were on him as he waited patiently to be seated.
“Ah, our Ambassador has arrived at last, along with his beautiful aide. Please, take a seat at the table.” The Patriarch’s baritone reverberated through the room as Dennis pulled up a stool at the far end of the table and hopped up awkwardly, Xhe seating herself beside him.
“I will translate anything that is said. Please rely on me,” she whispered into his ear, and Dennis nodded.
The Patriarch continued to speak, his loud voice echoing throughout the room. It had the acoustic qualities of a cathedral. Xhe translated for his benefit, leaning down to whisper to him. The Patriarch gestured towards Dennis with his claws, the golden thimbles that adorned them catching the light from the ornate chandeliers.
“May I introduce you all to Ambassador Carlisle, our envoy from the Earth territory. He is lubricating the gears of the relationship between Earth and Elysia, so to speak. He has been touring our territory and immersing himself in our culture for the last several days.”
Dennis noted that he had said Elysia and not Borealis. That meant that there were representatives from the other territories here today, and that the Patriarch was using him as a status symbol to flaunt his influence with the Coalition. He should play along. Earth’s business was with Elysiedde, not these other, less influential rulers.
“And what a territory it is!” Dennis interjected. The Patriarch smiled and gestured for him to continue with a wave of his massive hand. “I have been very impressed with what I have seen so far. The city is modern and cosmopolitan, the lakeside villages are picturesque, and the jungles are a brimming with natural wealth. The Elysian people are of noble character, I have been well treated wherever I have found myself.”
Xhe translated for the benefit of the other Borealans and the Patriarch puffed out his chest with pride.
“A valid assessment, if I say so myself.” He pointed a golden-tipped claw at Dennis, his eyes dropping below his face to his collar. “Is that what it looks like, Ambassador? Have you been hunting with our Rangers?”
Dennis lifted his tie, the iridescent fur refracting light into shades of blues and greens as he held it aloft for the Patriarch to see. There was mumbling amongst the other guests. As Dennis had hoped, they were impressed. The Borealans were a tribal people, earning their respect as an individual meant earning respect for his tribe, which in this case meant the UN. With some careful political maneuvering, he could raise Earth’s standing and importance in the eyes of these aliens, which might result in more favorable defensive pacts and trade contracts. This was where Dennis excelled, he was in his element.
“I can’t take credit for bringing the beast down, but it was killed mere feet from me as it charged our position. I’ve never seen a creature so large, it snapped trees like they were toothpicks.”
“Did you ... partake of the meat?” one of the unnamed guests asked, struggling to pronounce the English words. He looked older, his red hair was greying, and he was leaning his weight on the varnished table.
“I did.”
More muttering, all according to his plan.
“Well!” the Patriarch exclaimed, “I now see that when you spoke of experiencing our culture you were sincere. Venturing into the jungle and taking part in a hunt is no half measure.”
“The Elysian Rangers are unparalleled hunters, I’ve never seen anything of the like.”
The Patriarch nodded appreciatively, he was clearly enjoying himself. He expected Dennis to extol the virtues of Elysian society and that is what he intended to do.
“I must say, Ambassador,” the Patriarch continued. “You wear the fur well. I had thought human fashions dull and simplistic, but you used the blandness of the surrounding clothing to draw attention to the fur and create a focal point. It is an alien style, but an attractive one.”
Dennis had not anticipated that fashion would be discussed at a diplomatic gathering, but judging by the elaborate and ornate clothing that the Borealans were wearing it had a cultural significance that transcended simply looking presentable.
“Thank you, Patriarch.”
“Where are my manners?” the enormous Borealan said as he waved a gilded hand to his right. “Down this side of the table are seated the rulers of the other eight Borealan territories, and to my left are some notable Alphas and public figures. The main reason that I convene these banquets is so that we might strengthen ties and share news on what is happening in our respective spheres of influence.”
Dennis noted that none of the other territorial leaders were as finely dressed as the Patriarch, nor were they afforded the same level of respect. He had not even introduced them individually. Based on the knowledge of Borealan society that Dennis had gleaned from his travels, he concluded that they were not on equal terms. The Patriarch had declared himself as the strongest among them with seemingly no opposition. Earth had chosen her ally wisely, and if the Patriarch was given access to more ships and technology, then he would surely remain safely ahead of the other regions. Dennis would make sure to relay his observations to the UN.
The Borealans chatted about regional issues, and inter-territorial disputes as Dennis sat with one ear to Xhe, his companion translating anything that she thought was of significance. He resolved to gain at least a passing understanding of the language for future meetings lest Xhe miss important details that would stand out to a more seasoned politician or otherwise choose to withhold sensitive information.
As the casual conversations went on, the Patriarch called for the food, and the table quietened as an army of waiters brought out innumerable platters of meats and fish. Dennis had never seen so much food in one place before. There were entire roasted carcasses of animals that he was not familiar with, stacks of choice cuts along with shredded and pulled meats, fish of all shapes and sizes. The smell was mouth-watering. He suddenly remembered the stasis unit that he had placed on the floor beside his chair and cleared his throat to get the attention of the Patriarch.
“My Lord Patriarch, I have brought with me a gift from Earth.” He rose from his seat and retrieved the glass box, walking down the length of the table in order to present it to the seated monarch. The Borealan picked it up in his massive hands and examined it, his gold-plated claws clicking against the glass.
“What is it?” he asked curiously, cocking his shaggy head.
“This is the rarest and most prized of all the meat that Earth produces. It is known as Kobe, and it comes from the Japanese territory. The livestock are massaged every day to keep their meat tender, and they are fed a special diet in order to influence their flavor. If you would like to eat it today, I have some ideas on how the meat should be prepared so as to maximize its flavor for the Borealan palate. The glass box is a stasis unit, the meat is suspended in a particle field that slows time almost to a stop so that the contents will stay fresh on long journeys.”
As Dennis had hoped, the Patriarch was as impressed by the technology as by the meat, his eyes glazing over in wonder as he turned the box over in his hands.
“No need to return the stasis unit,” Dennis added, sensing that the Patriarch would like to make the artifact part of his collection.
“A fine gift!” the Patriarch boomed. “You please me, Ambassador. By all means, deliver your instructions to the cooks, and I will sample this Japanese Kobe today.”
Dennis bowed and returned to his seat, then he explained the cooking process to Xhe.
“It should be grilled over a wood fire, and the meat should be rare, that means red and moist on the inside. Understand?”
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