The Golden Gardens was an appropriate name.
In the center of the large banquet hall was a forest of plants which sprouted the most amazing golden leaves. It was difficult to tell if they were simply painted gold or they'd somehow been bred that way. A large waterfall fell into a pond, musicians with harps and violins played a slow ballad, and around that little oasis sat all of the polished wooden tables where diners dressed in far fancier attire than Noel and Amos enjoyed their meals.
"This way," a woman wearing a black and golden dress with a face painted white gestured them towards a table that faced into the beautiful garden itself. Being this close Noel could make out the white roses that grew off some of the plants, surrounded by the golden leaves.
As soon as Amos and Noel took their seats three men appeared wearing similar clothing as the hostess that had escorted them to their table. Two of the men flapped out white napkins and laid them upon each of their laps, the third spoke up.
"Amos Savren and," he looked Noel up-and-down before noticing her Dreadlord patch, "Lady Dreadlord. Shall I start you with something to drink."
"Wine," Noel said, "and whatever he's having."
The waiter's neatly trimmed beard seemed to shift slightly in disappointment, "we have a chardonnay from Vel Lacuzi, a chenin blanc from Elbion, an interesting red blend from just south of Restov, we recently got a shipment of Vansire Vineyard's most 323 offering..."
He listed off a half dozen other choices as Noel's eyes glazed over. "Just a bottle of wine."
"Very good miss," the waiter grinned and then looked Amos directly in the eyes, "and for the gentleman?"
In the center of the large banquet hall was a forest of plants which sprouted the most amazing golden leaves. It was difficult to tell if they were simply painted gold or they'd somehow been bred that way. A large waterfall fell into a pond, musicians with harps and violins played a slow ballad, and around that little oasis sat all of the polished wooden tables where diners dressed in far fancier attire than Noel and Amos enjoyed their meals.
"This way," a woman wearing a black and golden dress with a face painted white gestured them towards a table that faced into the beautiful garden itself. Being this close Noel could make out the white roses that grew off some of the plants, surrounded by the golden leaves.
As soon as Amos and Noel took their seats three men appeared wearing similar clothing as the hostess that had escorted them to their table. Two of the men flapped out white napkins and laid them upon each of their laps, the third spoke up.
"Amos Savren and," he looked Noel up-and-down before noticing her Dreadlord patch, "Lady Dreadlord. Shall I start you with something to drink."
"Wine," Noel said, "and whatever he's having."
The waiter's neatly trimmed beard seemed to shift slightly in disappointment, "we have a chardonnay from Vel Lacuzi, a chenin blanc from Elbion, an interesting red blend from just south of Restov, we recently got a shipment of Vansire Vineyard's most 323 offering..."
He listed off a half dozen other choices as Noel's eyes glazed over. "Just a bottle of wine."
"Very good miss," the waiter grinned and then looked Amos directly in the eyes, "and for the gentleman?"