"Come this way, then." She did a little flourish, then went to the door and opened in to the hallway. "We will be going straight to the kitchen. No doubt those cursed warts they call slavers at the auction house half starved you to death." It was the first unpleasant thing she'd said, and she had said it with very strong intonation. They traveled down the surprisingly plain hallways, down a steep well of steps with gloomy sconces set in the wall, to the good smelling, noisy environment of the manor's kitchen.<br/><br/>A large, burly man, with a cook hat that seemed dwarfed by his huge person, meandered over to meet them. "What can I do you for? Some fresh bread? Just came out' the oven. Perhaps some of last night's roast? No need to worry about eating that. The Master never has left overs."