The Gilded Hearth held a reputation as the finest kitchen in the capital, and John intended to test that claim thoroughly.
He ordered ten dishes without glancing at the menu twice. Spiced ember-fowl. River-glass noodles. A roasted haunch of something the waiter called simply "delicacy" with obvious pride. Three different wines followed, then a dessert course that alone took four separate trips to deliver.
Each time a waiter approached his table, John pressed a single Mythical-rank crystal into their hand before they'd even set the dish down.
"Sir, this is far too generous," the fourth waiter stammered, staring at the crystal like it might vanish if she blinked.
"Good food deserves good manners," John said, already reaching for the ember-fowl. "Manners deserve rewards."
