Soon, the waiter arrived and took their orders.
Kael asked for the inn's signature dish—a spiced venison stew known for being surprisingly good for a mid-range place.
Mirielle glanced at the menu and wrinkled her nose.
"All of this is just… commoner food," she muttered.
"Why did you choose this place, my lord? We can't even talk privately here."
Kael smiled politely, but in his head, the answer was far less diplomatic.
Because I wanted to hear what the commoners are whispering about me.
Instead, he simply said, "I like the food here."
The waiter, a young man with nervous eyes, fumbled to assist.
"Milady, the lord has already pressed the privacy rune. Your conversation is shielded—no one can overhear—"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a biting tone.
"Are you trying to teach me how to dine, peasant?"
The waiter paled, bowed stiffly, and muttered an apology as he retreated.
Mirielle let out a dramatic sigh.
