Oliver stands tall, maintaining a straight posture between his friends and spouse. His gaze remains fixed on the rest of the lava in the distance, witnessing its miraculous transformation into solid rocks that no longer sizzle or produce smoke. As his eyes shift to the sky, he beholds the wondrous sight of the sky turning into a brilliant shade of blue, resembling the tranquil waters of the vast sea.

     Suddenly, but with an air of expectation, a single clap reaches Oliver's ears. It quickly multiplies, filling the air with a symphony of applause. The sound grows, resonating like millions of hands cheering, overpowering the gentle breeze and becoming the sole focus of their hearing.

     Oliver turns around, and his friends follow suit. Their eyes immediately meet the city gates opening wide as crowds pour out, their faces beaming with glistening smiles. They join in the applause, their footsteps blending with the claps.

     Then, as if choreographed, the crowd splits into two, creating a path down the middle. A young woman, her black hair styled in a whimsical, rounded updo, stands at the centre of the division. Her wooden sandals thump against the concrete road with each step, while her tall, cylindrical golden crown glistens under the warm sunlight.

     Oliver's breath catches in his throat as he beholds the woman's flowing silk gold robe, accentuated by a white shawl. His eyes are drawn to her silver, almost cloud-white eyes as she gazes into his golden eyes. The woman stops, standing before him and offering him a smile.

"Are you Oliver Podeshire?" she inquired politely, slightly intrigued.

Oliver's heart fluttered as he held her gaze. "Yes," he replied. "I am."

A warm smile graced the woman's lips as she extended a hand towards him. "It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she greeted him, shaking his hand. "I am the Empress of Emria," she introduced herself. "Empress Olga Irina."

     Upon realizing they stand before royalty, the group swiftly drops to their knees, bowing in deference to the Empress of Emria. Their mouths remain closed, and their eyes shut, conveying their deep respect through silence. In response, the empress, Olga, graces them with a genuine and humble smile, acknowledging their display of reverence.

"Stand up," Olga commanded.

Oliver and his companions stood up, their gazes fixed respectfully upon the empress.

"It's an honour to meet you," Oliver said.

Olga smiled as she spoke. "I, as well, am deeply honoured, for I stand before the Remaining Podeshire. Your tales have reached my ears. And they are nothing short of extraordinary," Olga then inclined her head, bowing slightly. "I offer my sincere gratitude for your timely arrival... thank you."

     Following the lead of their monarch, the rest of the Emrians emulate her actions. They lower their heads and backs, one by one, before the Remaining Podeshire. A wave of gratitude ripples through the crowd as each person, row by row, expresses their appreciation by nodding in unison.

Olga then straightened her back. "Are you alone?" she inquired with a glimmer in her eyes.

Oliver's gaze briefly shifted to his companions before settling on Gregory. "I am with my friends," Oliver responded, intertwining his fingers with Gregory's. "And my spouse."

"Well then," Olga smiled. "I cordially invite all of you to my palace," she stated.

     Crimson-red, wooden doors swing open, revealing a room beyond adorned with splendour. A long table filled with steaming exotic dishes takes centre stage. Luxurious ebony chairs, their seats upholstered in vibrant red, encircle the table, eagerly awaiting their occupants. White panels crafted from delicate sheets run around the walls, while lanterns hanging from the lofty ceiling illuminate the corners. Pointy snake plants contrast against the vibrant red walls, adding a touch of greenery to the space.

     Olga settles into her dining throne, and Oliver and his companions follow, claiming their seats. Silence encases the ambience, each person lost in their thoughts. Sensing the need to break the stillness, Olga takes the initiative.

"My dear guests, I have been apprised of the tales from your homeland, recounting your valiant efforts in saving this world from an impending doom," she stated, smiling.

Oliver's eyes brightened with recollection. "Oh, yes. It was the encounter with the Pyrovoidians," he affirmed.

Olga's gaze met Oliver's. "Ah, those. Yes," she acknowledged, picking up her chopsticks.

     Oliver's gaze falls on his chopsticks. He stares at them, clueless about what to do. His eyes shift towards his companions, hoping for guidance, only to discover a similar perplexity reflected in their faces as they exchange bewildered glances.

     Beside Oliver, Gregory gingerly holds his chopsticks, his brows furrowed in concentration. He twists them in his hands, examining each side, attempting to decipher the proper technique. Eventually, a hint of resignation sparks in Gregory's eyes as he surrenders to the challenge, casting a glance of shared bemusement towards Oliver.

"How?" Gregory whispered, tilting his chopsticks towards Oliver.

Oliver examined his chopsticks, raising them slightly. "What are these called?" he questioned.

"Chopsticks, I presume?" Gregory guessed, his uncertainty palpable.

As Olga prepared to savour a bite of her food, she noticed her guests struggling with handling the traditional utensils. She smiled and intervened, offering assistance. "Need a little help?"

"Oh, pardon us, but yes," Oliver responded.

Olga gently retrieved Oliver's chopsticks from his hand. "See this? You have to break it in half," Olga explained.

A sudden crackling sound caught everyone's attention, causing them to glance at Edgar, who held his broken chopsticks with a tinge of embarrassment.

Olga chuckled softly. "...The other way, sir," she corrected before splitting Oliver's chopsticks on the correct side. "Here you go," Olga said, returning the chopsticks to Oliver's hand.

One by one, the rest of Oliver's companions followed suit, receiving guidance from Olga on handling the chopsticks. "Oh," they uttered.

"Now, dig in! And please, don't be shy. Feel free to engage in conversation with one another. Consider yourselves esteemed guests," said Ogla.

Oliver and his companions turned their attention to their plates, contemplating their choices and wondering what to sample first.

"Guys, do give the beef curry a taste. It's truly delicious," Sarrah suggested.

     Oliver positions the chopsticks between his fingers, adjusting their grip. He clasps a modest portion of the aromatic curry and guides it into his mouth. The moment the fragrant, creamy, and beefy flavours envelop his tongue, his eyes widen in delight. Eagerly, he reaches for a portion of white rice, enjoying its delicate texture as he takes a bite. The combination of flavours leaves him momentarily breathless as he giggles.

"Delicious?" Olga asked.

Oliver, his mouth still filled with the delectable flavours, nodded enthusiastically. "Mhm!"

Everyone joined the feast, their hunger appeased by the abundance of flavorful dishes. Laughter and conversation filled the air as they indulged in the delightful cuisine, relishing every bite and refilling their stomachs with the toothsome food.