Joseph drank the delicately flavored soup alongside the city's elite. He had a sense of power, given both by his company and choice of nourishment. But also of danger. These were men and women of carefully crafted reputations. They protected their own positions while exposing the faults of others, they placed extreme emphasis on propriety, and they would do whatever was necessary with the same cool emotionless gaze as the predators they dined upon.
Tonight's festivities were being held in the dining hall of the Mage's Guild. Tables had been moved to make room for dancing, there was an open bar with vintages half as old as the Valley, and music emanated from a small ensemble at the edge of the dance floor. Guests were waited on by fledgling Guild members, who presently swept out en force to exchange empty soup bowls for trays of desserts, mostly pastries with cherry, strawberry, or apple fillings. The real variety came from the herbs, imported from Paludan. Any number of options were available, and choice mattered in more than just flavor. Not only could the herbs impact the health of those than consumed them, they also gave a show to other guests of the character of the consumer. Some were dangerous if prepared incorrectly, eaten only by the brave. Others had sweet tastes but painful aftereffects, eaten by those for whom immediate gratification outweighed tomorrow's well-being. There were bland herbs for the stoics, regenerative for those with falling health, and spicy for those with the will to ensure it.
What dessert do you take? ((Either describe an herb and see what trait I give or describe a trait and I'll give you an herb. Or do both yourself. Only one significant trait, others can be gained later.))