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Description
The dining hall was large and luxurious, as one would expect in the castle of one of the oldest and most prosperous countries on the continent. The four sat close to the kitchen, and the meal--modest by the standard of the court--was pleasant, satisfying, and more than enough for the small group. They ate in silence.

When the meal was cleared away, a small selection of desserts was produced, and Fernweh fell onto it as though it were the first meal he'd seen in days.

"We just ate, Fernweh," Arrats said. "You can take your time, we aren't going anywhere." She lifted a slice of a fruit pie onto a plate.

"True, girly," Fernweh agreed. "But treasures such as these 're few an' far between. Ye can't know when next ye'll be blessed with such fine sweets."

"You sound like a child," Selice scolded. "It is a dessert, not a rapture."

"Girly," Fernweh said around a mouthful of a pudding, "a man once tried t' map th' values o' foods. He made a triangle o' it--had th' nerve t' call it a pyramid, even!--and separated th' food into groups. At th' pinnacle o' his 'pyramid' was sweets. He said it meant sweets was least in import an' that one should eat them rarely.

"But any fool knows th' top's t' be most important. Truth, all he showed was that sweets are kings o' food. Ye should eat sweets as ye would take audience with a king. F'r me, it means takin' as much as ye can, as ye've no way t' know when next ye'll be allowed audience. Hope f'r soon, plan f'r longer." A spiced pastie had somehow found itself among the tarts, and this the old traveler made disappear in a flash.

In the future, Selice would try to explain what next happened to her children, as well as to a select few others. But she could never tell the story in a way that she was truly satisfied. She was saddened that the sight was not shared with more people, but only the four at the table were witness.

When Fernweh bit into the pastie, the euphoric look on his face changed to one of shock, and he leapt backwards from his seat with a yelp. He fell to the ground, hands grasping at mouth and throat, tears streaming down his face. The Archcardinal and the princess stood to see that he was all right. At the same time, the guards on watch burst in through the hall's entrance while a group of chefs flew out of the kitchen. They all rushed to see to the old man on the ground.

His face was purpling by this point, and two of the guard tried prying his hands from his throat to allow him breath. They fought for a short while as he squirmed and shuffled them back and forth. A flail that sent the two guards flying ended in a kick that struck the hand of a serving boy. The boy had been on his way out when the excitement began, and the pitcher of juice he'd been carrying out had still been in hand.

The pitcher was knocked from his hand and fell, the thin crystal shattering on the old man's face, bathing him in a thin, slightly sweet liquid. Some of it trickled into Fernweh's nose and mouth, and the bulge left his eyes. He removed his hands from his throat and sat up with a gasp.

"Yeeee!" he said. "What a nasty surprise! 'Tis little in this world s' terrible as thinkin' sweet an' tastin' spice!" He looked sharply at the gathered chefs. "Which o' ye's th' fiend what gave me that fright?" When none responded immediately, he shrugged. "Ah well, 'tis nothin' harmed. It were a good pastie, that. But no dessert, t' be sure!"

He sat back and took up a tart, trying to continue his eating. But, to Arrats' amusement, she saw he tested it with a sniff and a small nibble before inhaling the rest of it this time.

"That was it?" the princess asked incredulously. "You were just surprised?" The kitchen-staff and the guards filed out as things returned to a more peaceful abnormality.

"Girly, ye can't understand such a shock without first bein' th' receiver o' such. Pray ye never understand." He looked serious for a moment before popping another tart into his mouth whole, seeming to have forgotten already to be wary.

They were silent for a moment, then Arrats sputtered and began giggling. This was all Selice needed to put her into the same position, and soon the two were laughing loudly. Fernweh made a stern face at the two, trying to calm them, but the dousing he'd had had soaked those crumbs he'd already inherited, and made the collection of more simpler. The effect on his appearance caused their laughter to erupt to a higher level, leaving them gasping for breath and wiping tears away. The old wanderer smiled paternally at the two as he shifted from pastry to pudding again.

Inlé, who'd not so much as looked to discern the condition of his old companion, calmly finished his dessert and waited silently for the ladies to calm and Fernweh to finish eating.

Description
The dining hall was large and luxurious, as one would expect in the castle of one of the oldest and most prosperous countries on the continent. The four sat close to the kitchen, and the meal--modest by the standard of the court--was pleasant, satisfying, and more than enough for the small group. They ate in silence.

When the meal was cleared away, a small selection of desserts was produced, and Fernweh fell onto it as though it were the first meal he'd seen in days.

"We just ate, Fernweh," Arrats said. "You can take your time, we aren't going anywhere." She lifted a slice of a fruit pie onto a plate.

"True, girly," Fernweh agreed. "But treasures such as these 're few an' far between. Ye can't know when next ye'll be blessed with such fine sweets."

"You sound like a child," Selice scolded. "It is a dessert, not a rapture."

"Girly," Fernweh said around a mouthful of a pudding, "a man once tried t' map th' values o' foods. He made a triangle o' it--had th' nerve t' call it a pyramid, even!--and separated th' food into groups. At th' pinnacle o' his 'pyramid' was sweets. He said it meant sweets was least in import an' that one should eat them rarely.

"But any fool knows th' top's t' be most important. Truth, all he showed was that sweets are kings o' food. Ye should eat sweets as ye would take audience with a king. F'r me, it means takin' as much as ye can, as ye've no way t' know when next ye'll be allowed audience. Hope f'r soon, plan f'r longer." A spiced pastie had somehow found itself among the tarts, and this the old traveler made disappear in a flash.

In the future, Selice would try to explain what next happened to her children, as well as to a select few others. But she could never tell the story in a way that she was truly satisfied. She was saddened that the sight was not shared with more people, but only the four at the table were witness.

When Fernweh bit into the pastie, the euphoric look on his face changed to one of shock, and he leapt backwards from his seat with a yelp. He fell to the ground, hands grasping at mouth and throat, tears streaming down his face. The Archcardinal and the princess stood to see that he was all right. At the same time, the guards on watch burst in through the hall's entrance while a group of chefs flew out of the kitchen. They all rushed to see to the old man on the ground.

His face was purpling by this point, and two of the guard tried prying his hands from his throat to allow him breath. They fought for a short while as he squirmed and shuffled them back and forth. A flail that sent the two guards flying ended in a kick that struck the hand of a serving boy. The boy had been on his way out when the excitement began, and the pitcher of juice he'd been carrying out had still been in hand.

The pitcher was knocked from his hand and fell, the thin crystal shattering on the old man's face, bathing him in a thin, slightly sweet liquid. Some of it trickled into Fernweh's nose and mouth, and the bulge left his eyes. He removed his hands from his throat and sat up with a gasp.

"Yeeee!" he said. "What a nasty surprise! 'Tis little in this world s' terrible as thinkin' sweet an' tastin' spice!" He looked sharply at the gathered chefs. "Which o' ye's th' fiend what gave me that fright?" When none responded immediately, he shrugged. "Ah well, 'tis nothin' harmed. It were a good pastie, that. But no dessert, t' be sure!"

He sat back and took up a tart, trying to continue his eating. But, to Arrats' amusement, she saw he tested it with a sniff and a small nibble before inhaling the rest of it this time.

"That was it?" the princess asked incredulously. "You were just surprised?" The kitchen-staff and the guards filed out as things returned to a more peaceful abnormality.

"Girly, ye can't understand such a shock without first bein' th' receiver o' such. Pray ye never understand." He looked serious for a moment before popping another tart into his mouth whole, seeming to have forgotten already to be wary.

They were silent for a moment, then Arrats sputtered and began giggling. This was all Selice needed to put her into the same position, and soon the two were laughing loudly. Fernweh made a stern face at the two, trying to calm them, but the dousing he'd had had soaked those crumbs he'd already inherited, and made the collection of more simpler. The effect on his appearance caused their laughter to erupt to a higher level, leaving them gasping for breath and wiping tears away. The old wanderer smiled paternally at the two as he shifted from pastry to pudding again.

Inlé, who'd not so much as looked to discern the condition of his old companion, calmly finished his dessert and waited silently for the ladies to calm and Fernweh to finish eating.