The celebration banquet didn't conclude until deep into the night.
Byron was merely a projection. He hadn't eaten a bite of food nor drunk a drop of wine. Yet, aside from requests to arrange introductions for their sisters or daughters, or to purchase female slaves, he accepted all other offers of business cooperation without refusal.
In his eyes, these fellows were simply chives delivered to his door, asking to be harvested. At most, it was a minor matter of organizing another group later on and tossing them in with the three thousand Death Soldiers... oh, the 'atmosphere group,' that is. He thought the name "New Continent Development, Tourism, and Fishing Crowdfunding Project" was quite good. If he could get Edward IV to join in as well, it would be even better.
