Half-Elf Twin Maids?!
Standing in the bright front hall of the Suncrystal agency, facing the conditions laid out by the halfling Toby, Orum found his thoughts drifting back to what he had witnessed at Port Zobek's black market not long ago.
The prices tagged on the various slaves at Port Zobek's black market had left a deep impression on him.
In that underground trading den thick with sin and desire, he had once surveyed the pricing tiers of slaves across every rank with considerable interest.
The most expensive, naturally, were pure-blooded elven slaves.
They possessed lifespans stretching over a thousand years, precious and rare as immortal works of art, each one beautiful and noble, like the finest white nephrite jade.
Their exquisite features seemed forever untouched by the erosion of time, and their air of untouchable grace made them stand apart in any setting, like celestial maidens dwelling beyond the mortal world.
Beyond their outward beauty, elves' extraordinary longevity granted them an unmatched advantage in learning.
Over the course of such long lives, any elf could easily train to professional-grade proficiency.
Even spending just one hour each day on something as simple as archery practice, after a hundred years an elf could become one of the finest archers on the continent.
Perhaps because their lifespans were so vast, elves were by nature emotionally detached, like snow lotuses blooming atop a glacier.
Their reproductive drive was equally faint, as though they maintained a transcendent distance from all things of this world.
Add to this the destruction of habitats wrought by changing environments and rampaging magical beasts, and many ancient forest kingdoms had long since fallen into decline.
The number of elves had therefore dwindled steadily, like a species on the edge of extinction. Beyond the mysterious Elven Court, it had become exceedingly rare to encounter a pure-blooded elf anywhere on the wider continent.
Consequently, every elf who found her way into the slave market commanded a staggering price.
Sales easily cleared two thousand gold coins, enough to purchase six properties in Blackwater Town.
Among them, the finest elven slaves who had received careful training and possessed extraordinary skills could fetch jaw-dropping prices of over ten thousand gold coins at auction.
Half-elves, as the mixed-blood offspring of elves and humans, could not compare to pure-blooded elves in lifespan, yet they still possessed long lives of roughly three hundred years.
They inherited the elegant beauty of elven blood, their appearances similarly lovely and striking, carrying a distinctive charm that fell somewhere between human and elven, a manner all their own.
For this reason, half-elf slaves typically sold for five hundred gold coins each on the market.
A figure that, for an ordinary person, was already an astronomical sum, more than a farmer could earn in a lifetime.
Measured against this pricing system, the sale Toby had described, a villa priced at nine hundred gold coins bundled with two half-elf twin slaves, seemed highly suspicious.
By normal market reckoning, the two half-elf slaves alone were worth one thousand gold coins. Add in the value of the villa itself, and the whole thing made no sense at all.
Toby immediately noticed the skepticism surfacing on Orum's face and spoke up at once to explain.
"Adventurer, please rest assured. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for why these two half-elf maidservant slaves are being sold together with the property at such a reduced price."
Toby lowered his voice, his tone carrying an air of intrigue. "These two half-elf maids come from the Lorran family, once an illustrious house, now thoroughly disgraced."
"The Lorran family was formally convicted of treason by the Kingdom's court not long ago. The ringleaders behind the conspiracy have been thrown into prison."
"As family members of convicted criminals, they have had all their noble titles and privileges stripped away by the Kingdom, and are being sold off at this humiliating price as a matter of official disposal."
"This manner of handling is itself the Kingdom's public rebuke and punishment directed at the descendants of these traitors."
Orum had heard something of this. The Kingdom's laws had always been severe. For a crime as grave as treason, it was not enough to execute the ringleaders.
Related family members were also made to share in the punishment under the law's principle of collective responsibility.
Stripping of rank, confiscation of property, sale into slavery, these were all standard measures.
"More importantly," Toby's voice dropped lower as he continued, "both of them have been compelled to take a specially formulated poison that permanently destroyed the foundation and potential they once had as practitioners."
"These twin sisters will never again be able to walk the path of a practitioner. They can only spend the rest of their lives as lowly servants."
It was a punishment of extraordinary cruelty. For anyone who had aspired to become a high-ranking practitioner, having one's vocational foundation destroyed, being reduced to an ordinary person, and having all paths of cultivation permanently severed, was without question a torment of the deepest kind.
Orum turned the matter over in his mind. The Kingdom's methods of punishment were ruthless indeed, not content merely to strip these criminals' descendants of their freedom, but determined to cut off every possibility of their ever rising again.
"And because of this, their ceiling for future development and their investment value have both been significantly reduced," Toby analyzed the pricing logic with the reasoning of a seasoned merchant.
"So their price is lower because of that, I take it?" Orum had grasped the logic.
In the slave market, slaves with practitioner potential typically commanded higher prices, since they could be cultivated into powerful combatants or trained in other useful skills.
But if the possibility of ever becoming a practitioner had been permanently eliminated, their value naturally fell by a considerable margin.
"Precisely, adventurer. That is why these two half-elf slaves, their cultivation foundations destroyed, are being bundled together with the Lorran family's confiscated property and sold at such a reduced price."
Toby gave an approving nod, summarizing the full pricing rationale.
The explanation made sense on its own terms.
Orum considered for a moment. He understood why the price was unusual, but what concerned him more was the practical question.
His primary reason for purchasing property was to have a quiet place to train, and if the accompanying maids could handle the small tasks of daily life, that would be all the better.
"How are these two half-elf maids in the kitchen?" he asked.
Whether or not the twin slaves could advance as practitioners was far less important to him than this.
Even if the sisters had been able to continue on the practitioner's path, it would have been of little help to Orum's future, more trouble than it was worth. And if they progressed slowly, they would only become a burden.
Toby's eyes lit up at once. "Adventurer, you needn't worry about that at all!" he said with confidence.
"These twin sisters were originally significant members of the Lorran household, specifically groomed to fulfill the role of political marriage candidates. They are exceptionally accomplished in culinary arts."
In noble society, political marriages were an important means of maintaining familial ties and expanding influence. Women chosen to fulfill this role were trained from childhood and possessed remarkably high all-round capabilities well before reaching adulthood.
"The two sisters received the strictest noble bride education from the Lorran family from a young age."
"In household management, refined cooking, tea and pastry preparation, and every other aspect of aristocratic domestic life, they have reached the level of true experts."
Toby paused deliberately, allowing the dramatic effect to build, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction.
Then, at last, he added slowly, "To be precise, they are proficient in a full two hundred distinct dishes."
"Two hundred?" Orum was genuinely startled. The number far exceeded anything he had expected. "Two hundred dishes, that would be the standard of a master chef."
In an ordinary tavern or noble household, a cook capable of preparing fifty dishes was already considered highly skilled. Mastery of two hundred dishes was the stuff of legends. A talent like that could stand on its own anywhere, even in the finest restaurant one chose to open.
"Quite so," Toby nodded in satisfaction, continuing, "The standards to which the Lorran family trained their marriage candidates were famously exacting throughout the Kingdom."
Orum's mind moved quickly through the figures:
A villa for nine hundred gold coins.
Bundled with two half-elf maids capable of preparing two hundred dishes.
Was this deal worth taking?
After a brief deliberation, Orum raised his head and looked at Toby. "I'd like to visit the property this evening and have dinner prepared by them while I'm there."
A satisfied light flickered in Toby's eyes. A client who proactively requested a tasting dinner was showing very strong purchase intent.
"That's a perfectly reasonable request," Toby agreed immediately, "though per our standard practice, we do need to charge a modest tasting fee to cover the cost of ingredients."
Orum's brow furrowed. "How much?"
"Ten gold coins," Toby named the price.
Ten gold coins? That was far too steep. Orum, never one to spend lavishly, frowned and shook his head. "That's too expensive. I could dine at a high-end restaurant for less than that."
Toby assumed a look of difficulty. "But sir, they'll be preparing refined cuisine of noble caliber. The ingredient costs truly are not low."
Orum kept shaking his head. "I'm only trying to confirm their skill level, not ordering some lavish banquet. Two gold coins seems like a more reasonable figure to me."
Toby considered for a moment. The young man before him had the air of someone with firm convictions, not easily talked around. And judging by his bearing and manner, he was clearly a capable adventurer. Once a client like this made up his mind to buy, he rarely caused problems afterward.
"Very well," Toby conceded. "Two gold coins as a token meal fee, but I have one condition."
Orum nodded for him to continue.
"Adventurer, you must make your decision immediately after dinner, whether you are purchasing the villa or not." Toby's expression turned serious. "We cannot allow clients to delay indefinitely."
It was a fair enough condition. Orum thought it over: one dinner's worth of time would be enough to assess the property's basic condition and test the quality of the two half-elves' service.
"Agreed," Orum said, nodding. "Though I have a condition of my own."
Toby raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
"When I eventually ask to sell and transfer the property, you must help me find a buyer as quickly as possible, within three months."
Orum's expression was equally serious. "I am a professional adventurer by trade, bound to travel and wander constantly. I am not the kind of person who can settle long-term inside Roen City like a merchant or a nobleman."
Toby nodded thoughtfully. Adventurers were indeed that kind of profession: in one city today, possibly dispatched to the wilderness a thousand miles away tomorrow. Owning a fixed property was genuinely a burden for people whose lives offered no guarantee from one day to the next.
"That condition is acceptable," Toby agreed at last, smiling. "The Suncrystal agency has a strong reputation and a broad network of clients in Roen City. We will do our utmost to find you a suitable buyer promptly."
As Orum turned to leave, Toby's expression suddenly grew grave. "There is, however, one thing I must caution you about. When you transfer the property, the magical contract binding the half-elf slaves will not be automatically dissolved."
A magical contract? Orum's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
"The Kingdom has established extremely strict binding clauses for family members of convicted criminals," Toby explained in full. "Once you have accepted the contract, it cannot be revoked or transferred to another party unless you yourself die."
"They will remain slaves registered under your name for as long as you live."
"Should you die of old age without leaving a clear testament naming an heir, any uncontested contract will automatically revert to the Kingdom."
"This arrangement," Toby continued, "exists precisely to ensure that these slaves remain in servitude permanently and never have any possibility of regaining their freedom."
Orum shook his head inwardly. The Kingdom's laws were ruthless indeed. Though for his own purposes, this restriction was not much of a concern. He was purchasing these maids to handle the small tasks of daily life, not to resell them for profit.
That afternoon, Orum set out with a complicated feeling for Roen City's largest trading exchange, intending to purchase a few volumes of skill training manuals.
Inside the vast exchange, an array of wondrous goods was laid out in every direction: weapons gleaming with magical light, potions breathing out mysterious vapors, everything one could imagine, a feast for the eyes.
Orum searched carefully through that sea of merchandise, and in the end found himself spoilt for choice.
After repeated comparisons and careful deliberation, he made his selections.
He left the exchange carrying three thick, finely bound training manuals, each one breathing out an air of ancient knowledge, feeling weighty as lead in his arms.
The three precious volumes were titled "The Force of Iron Heart," "The Bulwark of Stone Dragon," and "The Tactics of White Raven," each representing a different system of martial specialization training.
Each training volume had cost Orum exactly one hundred gold coins, totaling three hundred gold in all.
Stone Dragon, Iron Heart, White Raven: three martial lineages founded by legendary fighters of the ancient era, each one carrying a legacy of supreme martial achievement.
Only by fully mastering the core essence of all three lineages and acquiring their corresponding specializations could one advance to the powerful melee vocation known as the Warblade.
And the Warblade itself had a higher path still: mastering the complete nine martial lineages, Stone Dragon, Iron Heart, White Raven, Desert Wind, Devoted Spirit, Diamond Mind, Setting Sun, Shadow Hand, and Tiger Claw. Only a warrior capable of fully mastering all nine could obtain the extraordinarily rare legendary vocation of the Nine Sword Grandmaster, the ultimate pinnacle of martial cultivation.
Iron Heart focused on pure weapon technique, pursuing the fullest possible expression of a weapon's destructive power, with every movement and strike carrying thunderous, world-shaking force.
Those who mastered Iron Heart could wield the heaviest and most lethal weapons in ways that bordered on the supernatural, achieving a state of perfect unity between fighter and blade.
Iron Heart practitioners favored heavy weapons: great two-handed swords, dwarven-crafted steel greataxes, massive war glaives, and heavy broadswords.
What Iron Heart grandmasters were most renowned for was their ability, in the split second of battle, to deliver a single annihilating blow of devastating weight, ending a powerful opponent in an instant.
This volume, "The Force of Iron Heart," was a precious training guide teaching how to employ heavy weapons to the fullest degree of mastery.
For Orum at his current stage, this training manual was precisely what was needed to fill the most glaring gap in his combat capability, raising his overall fighting strength significantly.
When Orum swung his Flame-steel glaive now, he relied almost entirely on brute force, striking with broad, sweeping attacks that vented the raw violence of his body.
Only when executing his "Sword Dance" and "Thrust" combat techniques did expert-level skill lend its support, bringing every movement and line of force to a peak of refinement.
In his ordinary state, wielding the glaive, Orum was not unlike a savage gripping an enormous hammer: pure overwhelming force, with no trace of technical elegance.
"The Force of Iron Heart" would therefore address exactly the shortfall in technique that showed when Orum handled his extraordinarily heavy Flame-steel glaive.
The second volume, "The Bulwark of Stone Dragon," detailed in full the complete cultivation system for becoming a powerful grandmaster of the Stone Dragon lineage through systematic training.
Stone Dragon martial arts likewise drew on tremendous physical strength as their core, an ancient martial lineage specifically developed for the use of heavy weapons, with a long and storied history.
Compared to Iron Heart, which emphasized pure offensive technique, Stone Dragon placed far greater weight on an impenetrable defense and a crushing, mountain-like force that overwhelmed everything it met.
Stone Dragon's signature technique, "Ancient Mountain Crush," allowed the practitioner to draw limitless, ponderous power from the solid earth beneath their feet. When unleashed, the blow landed with the terrifying force of an entire hillside bearing down at once, enough to shatter the ground and split the earth.
At the same time, Stone Dragon grandmasters possessed a superhuman sense of balance. As long as they held a weapon to brace against an attack, they could fully absorb and redirect even the most enormous impact directed at them.
Every Stone Dragon grandmaster was able to channel the force contained within an enemy's attack, guiding it skillfully down through their body and into the ground beneath them, allowing them to maintain perfect combat balance at all times.
This made Stone Dragon grandmasters like battle fortresses that could never be toppled, standing firm even on the most brutal battlefield, serving as the immovable pillar at the heart of any team.
"The Force of Iron Heart" and "The Bulwark of Stone Dragon" could be said to dramatically raise a warrior's combined offensive and defensive capabilities at the level of technique, elevating the individual martial prowess of a fighter to its absolute limit, a genuine qualitative change.
The third volume, "The Tactics of White Raven," was an authoritative work of profound scope on the art of military command and leadership.
The central doctrine of the White Raven lineage emphasized the importance of unity and collective coordination, holding that the power produced by teamwork far exceeded the simple sum of its parts.
White Raven grandmasters were outstanding military leaders, capable of rallying the morale of an entire army, possessing unmatched qualities of command presence.
Every White Raven grandmaster, in the moment of victory, would generously share the glory with all those who had fought alongside them, allowing their followers to draw courage and strength from their leader's heroic deeds.
The most distinctive ability of a White Raven grandmaster was a battle cry capable of shaking the entire field, igniting the fighting spirit of hundreds of warriors around them in an instant.
Under the grandmaster's bold leadership, hundreds or thousands of ordinary soldiers would spontaneously form an unstoppable charging formation, sweeping across the battlefield like a tide of iron.
Powerful armies, deeply stirred by the White Raven grandmaster's extraordinary leadership, combined with the grandmaster's refined command of various battle tactics, could achieve perfect military coordination.
With a White Raven grandmaster as the sharp tip of the entire battle array, any army formed around them became an irresistible wave of steel, capable of breaking through any resistance.
The title Warblade was coined precisely for this reason, celebrated as an exceedingly powerful battlefield command vocation, one that could lead thousands of soldiers through the force of leadership alone, without relying on personal martial strength.
Even those who chose not to become professional adventurers could, once they had mastered the Warblade vocation, become fearsome and capable military commanders, distinguishing themselves brilliantly in the field of war.
Orum held the three precious training volumes against his chest, feeling the depth of knowledge they contained, and a powerful sense of anticipation for what lay ahead rose within him.
Indeed: with money came knowledge, and knowledge was power.
By evening, the setting sun had painted the flagstone streets of the city in warm amber.
Orum walked through the fading light and returned to the Suncrystal real estate agency.
The shrewd halfling Toby was already fully prepared. He wore a neat suit of business attire and held a gleaming key in his hand, his eyes bright with expectation.
"Mr. Orum, you've come at exactly the right moment!" Toby greeted him warmly. "We'll set out for White Stone Manor right away. I'm confident you'll be very pleased with it."
The two departed the agency together and set off on the journey toward the outskirts of Roen City, needing to pass through the notorious Sow's Quarter and the industry-heavy Workshop Quarter.
The transportation Toby had arranged for the trip was a giant elk rented from one of the city's hire stations.
This large domesticated animal, native to the Kingdom's southern reaches, was powerfully built, with a shoulder height approaching two meters, its body covered in thick brown fur.
The enormous antlers crowning its head were hard as iron, glinting with a metallic sheen in the slant of the evening sun.
Orum had ridden one of these passenger animals before in Blackwater Town. These professionally trained giant elk served a role in the city not unlike that of hired coaches, and for just a few copper coins they would carry you to any corner of the city.
Orum had not brought his Flame-steel glaive with him. That precious piece of equipment had been left in the care of the Sunbright Inn, where experienced professional maintenance staff saw to it.
Only careful and consistent upkeep could ensure every quality piece of equipment remained in its finest condition.
Besides, walking through shops and streets carrying a glaive of that immense weight would likely crack the stone slabs underfoot with every step, and he would then be liable for expensive repairs.
So in the relatively safe environment of the city, Orum carried only a cheap standard-issue steel sword as a temporary sidearm: practical, and unlikely to cause unnecessary complications.
Even so, the moment Orum settled himself onto the broad back of the giant elk, the animal's entire body lurched sharply downward.
All four of its thick legs buckled at the knees.
"Mmmugh." The giant elk let out a low, aggrieved groan, and with obvious effort straightened itself again, bracing against the unexpected weight.
Then it turned its massive head and fixed Orum with a look of profound reproach, as though asking silently: Is this person made of stone?
"I apologize, my weight does tend to exceed the ordinary," Orum said, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone as he acknowledged the animal's grievance.
Ever since acquiring the Monster Organ: Ogre Skeleton, Orum's body weight had spiked dramatically, far beyond any normal human range.
Though his proportions remained perfectly balanced and trim to all outward appearances, his actual weight was heavier than that of a broad, overweight man.
He was, in essence, a perfectly disguised hidden anvil, possessing a density and mass wildly at odds with what anyone could see, enough to catch any enemy completely off guard.
Standing nearby, Toby witnessed all this and was left absolutely dumbstruck, jaw dropping. "Good heavens, Mr. Orum, are you built out of iron?!" he exclaimed in disbelief.
"That weight must be at least the combined equivalent of five grown adults," he went on, his voice filled with astonishment and a kind of awe before something thoroughly beyond the natural.
Orum gave a wry smile and shook his head. "It's a rather complicated matter of constitution, related to my particular path of cultivation."
Toby nodded, as though something had just fallen into place. "No wonder you need such a large private courtyard for your training. An ordinary inn room truly couldn't bear that kind of weight."
Toby then climbed carefully onto the giant elk's back, taking pains not to add so much as a fraction of unnecessary burden and push the wretched animal past its limits.
The giant elk, clearly harboring no small grievance toward its unexpectedly heavy passenger, was nonetheless a professional transport animal, and so it discharged its duties faithfully, bearing both riders and plodding steadily in the direction Toby indicated.
As they traveled, Toby's gaze fell on the three finely bound specialization training volumes Orum held to his chest, and a look of intense envy crossed his face.
Those priceless martial texts represented a pursuit of power far beyond the reach of ordinary people, and every one of them contained knowledge capable of changing a person's fate.
"Mr. Orum, I truly envy adventurers like you," Toby couldn't help but say, giving voice to what was in his heart. "Every single day you live an exciting, extraordinary life of adventure!"
"Once I've saved up enough starting capital, I'm going to become a real adventurer too, and experience that kind of free and heroic life!" His voice brimmed with longing for a future still ahead of him.
Hearing Toby's enthusiasm, Orum offered a quiet smile and shook his head. "Truthfully, the life of an adventurer isn't as interesting as you'd imagine. Most of the time it's rather grueling."
"Compared to squeezing through dark, damp dungeon corridors fighting off monsters," he said, "I'd sooner stand quietly on a terrace in the city and spend each evening watching the sun sink slowly into the west."
Toby's eyes brightened the moment he heard this. "Then you are going to be very pleased with White Stone Manor!" he said eagerly.
"From the second-floor terrace of White Stone Manor, you can take in the most splendid sunset views in the entire southern sky. It's the ideal vantage point for watching the sun go down." He pitched the property's merits with enthusiasm.
The giant elk carried them both onward, passing first through the filthy, noisy, disordered Sow's Quarter, packed with low-grade entertainment venues and questionable dealings.
They then crossed through the Workshop Quarter, where the air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sharp fumes of various metalworking and alchemical processes.
That district was the city's industrial heart: chimneys rose in clusters, and the interwoven sounds of metal striking metal and machinery in operation formed a singular industrial symphony, filled with the vigorous pulse of a thriving commercial city.
After a full hour of traveling, the giant elk at last came to a halt before a serene and elegant white stone residence.
They had arrived.
The property known as White Stone Manor was entirely enclosed by a ring of tall, substantial stone walls, the surfaces of which were covered in dried climbing roses.
In the amber light of the setting sun, the withered vines trembled gently in the evening breeze, producing a soft, rustling sound.
Within the walls lay a broad front courtyard and a more secluded rear yard, the combined grounds remarkably spacious in total, roughly equal in area to two standard football pitches.
The front courtyard was laid with neat, attractive white stone paths, flanked on both sides by two symmetrical rows of tall silver-leafed plane trees, each one an expression of aristocratic horticultural aesthetics.
The leaves of these plane trees were elegant and palmate in shape, their surfaces catching a distinctive silver-grey sheen, the veins running through them as clear as fine lines of gold traced by a craftsman's hand.
Following the straight, tidy white stone path toward the house, one could clearly see a residence built entirely from pure snow-white stone standing at the center of the grounds.
The main structure used locally quarried high-quality snow-white stone as its primary material, the walls formed of block after carefully cut block, the workmanship meticulous.
One could see that the stone surfaces had been treated with a professional mage's magical reinforcement and protective enchantments, and even after fifty years of wind and weather, they still held their brilliant white luster.
Above the main entrance, beautiful half-arc stone carvings adorned the facade, and at their center rested the ancient crest of the Lorran family, though it had grown indistinct and worn with time.
The manor's overall structure consisted of two closely adjoined two-story buildings, their form simple and uncluttered yet carrying a dignified aristocratic quality, resembling at a distance a large white bear lying quietly at rest.
On either side of the entrance porch stood two rows of finely carved stone planters arranged in perfect order, planted with flame lilies in full bloom, their amber-gold petals delivering a vivid visual impact.
True to Toby's earlier promise, the second story of the residence did indeed feature a viewing terrace extending outward, its balustrade likewise formed of white stone.
On the terrace, moon-spirit orchids had been carefully cultivated, their small crystalline violet blooms swaying gently in the evening breeze, like a gathering of lovely floral sprites dancing in the last light of day.
Orum looked past the manor toward the rear and saw that the back courtyard was entirely screened from view by the tall surrounding walls, forming a private and concealed space that suited perfectly his need for a discreet training ground.
The area sheltered within those walls was generous enough to satisfy his requirement for a dedicated practice space, where he could freely exercise any martial technique without attracting outside eyes.
"Quite a fine place," Orum said, nodding with satisfaction.
The scale of the manor exceeded his expectations. Both the landscaping of the front courtyard and the refined craftsmanship of the building itself spoke to the Lorran family's former wealth.
Had it not been for the villa's relatively remote location, White Stone Manor could never have been brought down to the price it now carried, nine hundred gold coins for the entirety.
"Let's go inside and have a proper look!" Toby said, his enthusiasm evident as he hopped nimbly down from the giant elk's back, produced an elegant key from his coat, and walked toward the wrought-iron gate of the manor.
He slipped the key smoothly into the heavy iron lock and turned it, the hinges producing a light creak as the gate swung open, as though welcoming its new visitors.
The moment Orum stepped onto the white stone path leading to the manor, his senses caught a remarkably rich and vivid aroma.
It found its way deftly into his nostrils, taking hold of every part of his sense of smell in an instant.
The scent was extraordinarily enticing, seeming to blend the essence of many fine ingredients into a single impression of layered complexity, each strand rich with the fragrance of exquisite food, beckoning with irresistible promise.
With that intoxicating aroma reaching him, Orum could almost see the vision of a magnificent spread of fine dishes arranged before him, awaiting him in full splendor.
The powerful sensory impression set his mouth watering immediately, and his stomach signaled its hunger without delay: appetite thoroughly aroused.