[h3]Jaelnec, Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Nabi, Yanin, Jordan and Madara – Borstown, Bor Manor, dining room[/h3]
While conversation progressed the meal commenced, with everyone being expected to going to the middle of the three tables to serve themselves from the food that had been set. Quintin, Cole, and Kylie all remained standing off to the side for the time being, simply watching, while Wade went off to the pantry again and the baroness took her seat at the head of the last table, right in front of and with her back to the painting of herself and the red-haired sorceress. All of them would be liable to notice that the tables and chairs around them were all designed for human-sized creatures, which this day fit everyone but Vela herself. To accommodate her penin stature, Vela's own chair was taller than the rest so she could reach the table, and had a little stepladder attached to its left side so she could easily get to the seat.
All of the chairs were unpretentious and practical, but obviously nice carpentry nevertheless; mostly solid beech with cushioned seat, backrest and armrests clad in red fabric. The tables, which looked to be oak, were a bit more decorative, with the table legs being ornately carved to smoothly widen and narrow, with strategically placed ridges and furrows that made them interesting to look at in an abstract sort of way. The tabletops were covered in thick beige tablecloth which, while not ugly, seemed to have been chosen more for the function of protecting the tables than for aesthetics.

After having climbed to her seat, the baroness proceeded to pick up her plate and climb on top of the table itself. She walked across the length of the table as if it was the most natural thing in the world to get to the middle table, where she casually served herself a healthy portion of everything.
The penin had finished filling her plate and was heading back toward her seat by the time Irah had finished speaking to Madara and addressed their host once more. At this point Wade also returned with a large bottle of red liquid in one hand – a bottle that some of them might recognize as wine from the winery just across the street from the manor – and a brass carafe in the other.

“That's entirely up to you,” she told her, hopping onto her chair and placing her plate of food back on the table. “But I'd recommend takin' at least a few days to rest before headin' out. I'm sure you could all use it, seein' as you've not only just been through two fights in one day that'd make trained soldiers balk, but you've also all been exposed to divine taint. Especially you.” She gestured to Irah with her left hand while stuffing a slice of baked apple in her mouth with her right.
“And if you do wait just a few days, I think I can make the task a lot easier,” she added after swallowing the piece of fruit. “If you accept doin' this for me, I'll send a message to Nemhim City as soon as dinner's over askin' the duchess to send a fella she has workin' for her that's somethin' of a specialist at figurin' stuff out. I'm sure he'll be a big help in trackin' this vampire... and I need to send her a message anyway, to tell her what's happened and ask for more Fadewatchers to be stationed here.”

At this point, just as Vela had returned to her seat, the servants of Bor Manor stepped forward to each retrieve a plate of their own, filled them with food and took seats at the last table together with the baroness; something that would be quite unusual to anyone versed in the customs of nobility. Servants did not typically eat the same meals as their masters, let alone being permitted to join them at the dining table.

While Irah and Vela had been speaking, Jaelnec had gone and retrieved a little bit of everything before taking a seat next to his master. Freagon, meanwhile, had filled his plate with just a big helping of stew and a hunk of bread... and while Jaelnec did his best to eat politely, using his knife and fork as well as he knew how, the old knight was greedily wolfing down his food, taking absolutely no time to savor the taste.
“No,” the one-eyed nightwalker grumbled through a mouthful of bread. “A thousand is too little.”
The baroness frowned. “Excuse me? I'm not made of money, Sir Freagon. Surely –”
“I don't care about how much you have,” he interrupted her. “That's irrelevant.” He gestured around the table at the adventurers gathered there. “There's eight of us, and it sounds like you're calling in a ninth from the city. That's only a little over a hundred rodlin for each, for days' worth of traveling, a search for the target, and a fight against a vampire that's known to be turning others... meaning we might be facing an entire crowd of them.” He fixed a dark stare at the penin. “A hundred rodlin per person for something like that is an insult. Offer more.”