Arthur wandered through the corridors fruitlessly searching for a place serving breakfast. He'd all but given up when he recognized the youngster who'd taken his bags the day before. On the verge of asking for directions he remembered that any question would be as unintelligible as whatever answer he was provided with and decided to return to his rooms.
Harbend waited for him, wearing the same clothes as last night, but in addition he had donned a long robe, a blue as dark as night with traces of silver lining the edges. He held a soft, black hat in his hands.
"You're up early. I just had my morning meal, but seeing you returning here I assume you've had breakfast," Harbend said rising from the chair closest to the crates.
"As a matter of fact I haven't. I couldn't find the dining room."
"Dining room? This is not a tavern." Harbend frowned. "But excuse me. You must be starved. I shall arrange for your meal. There is still plenty of time." Harbend walked behind the table and pulled a rope Arthur hadn't noticed the night before. "A servant will come shortly. I shall order an assortment of different courses. Later you may make it known what you prefer."
Arthur said nothing and sat down on a couch close to the windows. There wasn't much he could do but wait, and the prospect of food kept him in eager apprehension.
In the morning, with sunlight flooding through the generously sized windows, the room took on an altogether different character. The marble and granite almost blended into each other, and where the dark furniture had seemed forbidding last night they were merely stout with a peculiar grace making them come alive. Thick carpets lay strategically placed wherever he would most likely have chosen to stand or walk.
Harbend gently tapped his shoulder and Arthur turned.
"The food is here. You should eat."
Arthur looked around. He'd been so preoccupied with his own thoughts he hadn't noticed anyone entering the room. And exiting, he realized. They were alone again, but a table closer to the bedroom was set with platters, bowls, jugs and bottles. A generous heap of bread and fruit sat in the center accompanied by meat and pies he'd normally have preferred far later in the day.
He sat down, eager to try the delicacies of the world. He'd never been afraid to try new cuisine and with great appetite ate his way through the choices available.
One platter with what he first thought was meat turned out to be some kind of pickled fish, a surprisingly fresh way to start the day. The bread mostly of a white type he knew from home, but a few slices were a dark brown, rich in taste and with small pieces of dried fruit sweetening it. No butter, but a wide variety of thick, spicy sauces functioned as tasty substitutes. Sausages a bit bland, some almost tasteless and he made a mental note to avoid them in the future. Milk, and what seemed to be yogurt tasted and smelled the way he expected.
Automatically searching for a pot that wasn't there he sorely missed something hot to replace the nonexistent coffee. He tried a bit of the weak wine but it was too early in morning for him to appreciate it, and he finished his meal by pocketing a couple of apples before rising from his chair.
He nodded happily to Harbend. "Thank you. Never start a day on an empty stomach, you know," Arthur said, feeling content.
Harbend gave the table an appraising look. By now he should know what fares to avoid. "Well, I guess we are on our way then," he said. "You need not worry about your crates. Porters are already sent for and I have marked the four I assume you want to bring."
"Ah, perfect. On our way then?"
They left the same way they had arrived the evening before.
A coach waited for them when they entered the street. Harbend must have taken care of that detail as well.