He doused himself several times with ice water.  Poured oil on his back to stretch out his scar tissue...dragon was itching him...and dried off to get dressed.<br/>He chafed at all the finery he must wear...but this was protocol.<br/>He got the gifts ready, and went back downstairs.<br/>He wandered into the kitchen and as the staff froze, he said, "I'm sorry for my vented spleen.  But could someone feed me...I think I need something in me...this is a long day, and the food smells so good, I need something before supper."  He sat at the servants table and poured some milk from their jug.<br/>A young maid looked distressed until he placed ten gold on the table.  "My kitchen staff has to eat better than the townsfolk...You...don't get to eat what you serve?"<br/>They shook their heads.  What torture!<br/>"That changes today.  Chef, enter this rule.  Any of my staff may eat as many of their meals here at the castle as they wish.  The cost for a months food will be 1/50 of a person's salary, money to go to the orphanage.  Now please, will someone sit with me...I hate to eat alone."<br/>He waved a scullery and an assistant over and the Chef nodded to them.<br/>"So far, all I have eatern has been excellent. But right now, a little dried sausage or cheese, or some heavy common bread...not that white light stuff...any mustard around?  Chef, in the war lands we made something called the sandwich...no it has nothing to do with sand or witches..."  The next hour was quite pleasant, and when a page showed his lady where he was, she seemed a bit peeved, yet pleased that he and the staff were bonding.