Freya didn't correct Lord Mortimer, not seeing as to why she should do so. She wasn't exactly driven out, but she had made the choice to leave by herself, not exactly wanting to spend the rest of her life in a village where everyone knew her as the daughter of a wench. She felt sure enough that such a life wouldn't have brought her much happines. Not that the life she currently had existed of nothing but happines, of course it had its downsides, perhaps even more bad than good things. Still, she preferred living the life of a traveler above her old life back in the village where she was born.

Then the man started about etiquettes, a thing Freya more or less was unfamiliar with. She knew enough to behave decently in front of their host, but that would be about it. Not to mention the fact that these men were nobles, nothing that she could compare to the people she met before coming across Harol. Their etiquettes most definitely differed from what she was used to. Lord Mortimer suggested that Harol would teach her proper etiquettes, which was something Freya was perfectly fine with. "I am good with that." Was Freya's simple answer to the man asking her if she was okay with Harol teaching her etiquettes.

When the roasted duck was put onto the table, Freya did notice that it looked quite good. Nothing that could be compared to the unfortunate birds that ended up above her campfire every now and then. She supposed that only made sense, though, and that none of the meals that were served in here could be compared to what she was used to it. Once she was handed a fork and a knife, she took a piece of the roast.