At the banquet in the Lord's Mansion, the food was simple and rustic.
Large chunks of roasted meat sizzled with grease, the white bread was cut thickly, and wooden mugs were filled to the brim with foaming ale.
Banaby Minas Hill disdainfully prodded the venison on his plate with a silver fork, as if it were something unclean.
He didn't take a bite, merely dabbing his lips once more with an immaculately white silk handkerchief.
"Oh, what a... rustic flavor."
His voice echoed in the less-than-spacious dining hall.
"This reminds me of the banquets at the Marquis's estate. Did you know, Lord Klein, that every one of our dinner plates comes from the Porcelain Capital of the East? And as for chefs, we have three just for handling poultry. They can prepare a single lark in twenty different ways, each with a completely distinct flavor."
Velin quietly cut the meat before him, offering no response.
He had deliberately seated Ola next to Banaby.
