Six marinated whole cows were transported by carts to the bonfire – if not for the escort of the militia, Roland suspected they would have been eagerly snatched up by the crowd as soon as they passed through.

This was all the stock in his castle's basement. The thought of having no more chops to eat until the next merchant ship arrived made Roland feel like his heart was bleeding. He had practically emptied his coffers for this celebration.

The royal chef brought from the royal capital was only responsible for seasoning and monitoring the heat. The grilling task was given to six of the strongest militiamen. An iron rod was inserted into the cow from its mouth, and it was placed on a brick platform next to the fire. The flames burned fiercely, and you could feel the heat wave even from two or three meters away. Soon, the skin of the whole cow began to sizzle, and grease oozed out of the pores, emitting an enticing aroma.

Of course, people couldn't just stand around waiting for the meat to be grilled. At Roland's suggestion, Iron Axe led a team of militiamen onto the stage.

Those gorgeous and complex court dances were not suitable for such occasions. Without long-term training, people might not even be able to remember the key steps, let alone show off beautiful dance moves. To ensure simplicity and ease of understanding while fully expressing oneself, the sand people's dance was clearly more in line with the tastes of ordinary people.

Iron Axe and his team put their hands on their hips, with one hand passing through the arm of the companion on the right, forming a ring-like shape, and lined up in two circles around the fire. As the accompaniment – several high and low pitched horns – began to play, they began to move clockwise, taking a step forward, kicking the other foot forward, and shouting "Ha Hey!" at the same time.

"Is this what you call leading the dance?" Carter widened his eyes, "Can this even be considered a dance?"

"Of course, and it's easy to remember. The militia only practiced for a quarter of an hour last night and mastered the steps," Roland laughed, "Would you like to try it?"

Carter shook his head and refused. He only felt as if something shattered in his heart – farewell, beautiful girl who moved his heart, farewell, youthful memories tinged with sadness.

Other militiamen clapped their hands, following the footsteps of the dancers, bringing applause with each kick. The rhythmic rhythm moved the crowd, and they all reached out to imitate it. As the applause grew faster and faster, the speed of Iron Axe and the team's rotation also increased. The ring of people began to show signs of disjointing. Before long, one of the team members accidentally fell, followed by a group of people falling down, and the rotation came to an abrupt end. The crowd was stunned, but the applause of the militia did not stop at all, but became like a storm.

Iron Axe helped up the fallen team member and shouted to the crowd, "Did everyone see it clearly? Who wants to try it? If you fall, that counts as the end of the round! Those who join the dance will be given a piece of sweet and delicious honey-roasted meat. The longer you persist, the more meat you get!"

If it were an invitation from nobles and wealthy families, the townspeople might not actively participate – subconsciously, they were always aloof, regarded ordinary people as worthless, and going back on their word was a common occurrence. But seeing the militiamen, who were familiar neighbors and villagers on weekdays, waving and encouraging them, they couldn't hold back one by one.

With the first, there was soon the second and the third. A new round of dance began again, but this time, most of the dancers were replaced by the crowd. Although the movements were simple, everyone enjoyed it, and with honey-roasted meat as a reward, the participants all gave their best performance.

This was exactly the scene Roland wanted to see.

In addition to roasted meat, there were also bread, fish cakes, and ale, which would be distributed successively after the beef was distributed. The celebration would continue until the evening, but Roland would not stay here all the time. He arranged for Carter to be responsible for on-site security, the Assistant Minister to deliver the closing remarks, and then left.

He also had a private celebration banquet to attend, located in the castle's back garden.

As evening approached, the backyard was still brightly lit.

Like the center of the square, a bonfire was also lit here. The difference was that the chicken used for grilling was all cut into pieces. The seasonings and oil were also prepared by themselves, completely imitating the outdoor barbecue style of eating. This novel self-service method was loved by the witches. Of course, in Roland's eyes, it was also a rare spectacle – for example, Anna wrapped a piece of chicken coated with seasonings directly in green fire, and instantly a fragrant piece of chicken could be grilled.

Nightingale showed her incredible knife skills. The dining knife appeared and disappeared in her hand, flying up and down around the chicken, and after peeling it open, the bones fell out completely.

Of course, there was also wine. These bottled wines brought from Willow Town were obviously more suitable for women's tastes than ale. Lightning drank half a bottle by herself. Although Roland wanted to say that minors were prohibited from drinking, she was floating in the air holding the wine bottle, and dissuasion was difficult to achieve. He thought about it and let it go.

When the barbecue was halfway through, Roland felt slightly drunk. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the smiling girls in front of him, and suddenly felt extremely gratified. This was the life a prince should have, he thought, and so it was for the witches. With extraordinary abilities and appearances, they should not be targeted for hunting. If they were placed in the era before his transmigration, they would probably be dazzling focal points wherever they went. And all he could do now was to let them live a normal life in this small piece of land.

At this moment, Lightning floated down, sat directly on Roland's lap, and before he could react, suddenly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Although this action was done very quickly, it was still captured by a group of witches.

She flew away with a smile, and seeing Anna, Nightingale, and Wendy looking at her in surprise, she waved her hands and explained, "According to the rules of the fjord, at a celebration banquet, women can take the initiative to kiss the leader. Dad always lets me kiss him. Does Graycastle not have this custom?"

"Of course not," Roland's drunkenness instantly sobered up for the most part, "Uh... cough cough, Lightning, you're drunk, go back to sleep now!"

"How is that possible," Lightning khángyi said, "When I was sailing, I often competed with everyone in drinking, and I never lost."

Roland had to turn to the witches for help. He looked at Wendy, who nodded, rolled up a downward airflow, and blew Lightning down. Just as she was about to land, Wendy stepped forward and hugged the girl, ignoring her shouting in her arms, and went straight to the castle.

"Don't pay attention to that guy, she's just drunk. You guys continue eating, there will be dessert later." Roland suddenly felt that the atmosphere was a bit awkward, especially the look in Anna's eyes, which made him feel a chill rising from the soles of his feet. The only one who was completely unaffected was Nana Wawa, who was still concentrating on grilling the chicken wings in her hand, as if nothing had happened.

When the bonfire gradually went out, Roland asked Nightingale to escort Nana Wawa home, and he went to the well to wash his face with cold water, also preparing to go back to his room to sleep. Roland didn't take this little episode to heart. In his opinion, Lightning was still just an underage child.

However, when he reached the door of the bedroom on the third floor, the prince's heart jumped.

He saw Anna leaning against the door.