A feast in the open was not the easiest thing to organize. Few hosts wasted valuable space in their wagon train for grand pavilion tents that could seat a hundred men, or the tables for them to sit at. Most men carried their own plates and iron forks on their backs, groups would bring canvas under which they could sleep and share the burden. It simply was not an atmosphere wherein a feast ought to have been possible.

However, through force of will it happened. Men walked about with plates and cookfires roared as fish and game came in from the Tumblestone and the forests around it. Men ate simple fare, none of the finery that came with a castle’s feast-- notably spices-- were to be had here. Roast venison, roast wild pig, some potage made from field greens and vegetables obtained from local farmsteads. Some men caught a pair of turkeys and roasted them on a spit as well, good eating for a crew of Rivermen. Casks of ale and beer were broken into and shared freely, and by nightfall the field was alight with the warm fires around and drinking songs from three different Kingdoms echoed across the grass.

Glorious victory had tipped her hand to the Stormlands, the West, and the Trident-- and now was the time to celebrate. Tomorrow they returned to war.