Dining in Castle Mechi was an intimate affair. Every aspect of human interaction for a Krov was forged around a warm meal or a shared spirit. Each member of a Krovic family was expected to be present for breaking the morning fast. The quality of food served to a guest indicated their value, the respect they were given. It was not a secret that we had kept to ourselves, either. Dignitaries from all over the continents – west and east alike - knew precisely how to gauge their importance, their safety, by not only what they ate, but where they ate it.
The pest knew none of it. His stupidity, at first, dug into my skin deeper and deeper, fueling a searing ire. Now, curiosity reigned – don't get me wrong, the desire to drive a fork through his eye was certainly still present, but it was almost like witnessing a deformed animal that should have been eaten by its mother and spared the pain of living as a wretch.
