You're pleased as pie to be a part of this illustrious community, title be hanged. [+Blood]
One of the other early-rising menials points you in the direction of breakfast, to be found on a wheeled cart in the courtyard. A bleary-eyed maiden yawns next to the great piles of bread and covered platters of anchovies on the cart. You help yourself to a long, crispy loaf in the coastal style—more like a truncheon than a trencher—and a few mouthfuls of the preserved fish. The bread is blissfully light going down your throat and still warm, set off perfectly by the smoky flesh.
You know children away from home are supposed to miss their mother's cooking, but the very notion sets you laughing aloud. The maiden regards you warily, nibbling her own loaf of bread and clearly ready to swat you with it if you come too close.
You lean against a low wall to complete your repast, and wash it down with a dipper of water from a covered barrel nearby. None of the other mechanicals and servants bustling about the courtyard seem to have the slightest awareness of what a delightful, rarefied environment they inhabit.
You brush the crumbs away. It's time to go meet your new company.
Onward