The Novvehom, Anhalt, People's Federation of Siveron
Rui
Dinners weren't supposed to be boring.
Sure, food could be boring sometimes. Like eating rations. Combat dumplings on a train are great until day two. Then they're just okay.
Somehow, Siveron had a form of dinner that made really good food the only entertainment between bouts of trying to stay awake.
For one thing, the portions were tiny, and they kept taking the food away minutes later and replacing them with other tiny foods.
For the next, person after person kept taking up the floor and just talking.
All three tables were arranged in a big horseshoe and the talkers just got up one after the other to address the bald lady at the head of the table, using a microphone at the center of the available floor. Zai seated at the bald lady's right hand and some guy with a big bushy beard at her left. It wasn't even a cool beard like Fulcrum's. It was a sad grandpa's beard with bits of soup in it.
