Mayen ate with his tutor in the main room. The smell was irresistible, and his mouth had watered well before his first spoon of oat; dried grapes and apple skin went so well together. Pine needle tea, a traditional Kastosian drink during winter, had a pleasing aroma. All of his senses, plus this feeling of being in clean cloths rather than those clay-crusted from the atelier, only served to enhance this exhilarating sensation of displacement; he was not at work, this was heaven. So few things ever came close to be as enjoyable as this: a well-deserved break.

-“Food to your liking?” asked Alberich.

-“It is! The tea, though, is... I don’t know how to describe it.”

-“The tea is bad?”