When you arrive, you find there’s a long line of hungry and annoyed knights. You can also hear some noises coming from the kitchen.
After a few minutes, Tom First comes out, looking annoyed.
“Sorry folks. Oven’s having troubles. I gotta have a talk with the idiot who used it at midnight. You’ll have to settle for raw swampleaf this morning, maybe at dinner too. And I can’t serve it right now. Need a few volunteers to handle portions… right, got it. Josh Second, Black, oh and Burgundy. All of you in the kitchen! I’ll be back in twenty-five or so.”
The line gradually starts moving. It picks up after a while, but it’s still a good ten minutes before you have your plate, which Burgundy hands to you with an apologetic smile. You’re not sure what you even want to say to her.
Somehow, the intact swampleaf is even more flavorless than the usual mush. You’re also still having trouble adjusting to your one hand; it takes you a few attempts before you successfully lift the fork to your mouth. You can’t help but draw a few looks, some sympathetic, others dismissive. You try to ignore it all and just eat your breakfast.
You’re going to have to think about what kind of job you can even do in this state. You know they said you could leave, but in all honesty, you can’t see yourself doing too well back on the farm either.
The farm. Damn, that’s right. You’re going to have to tell Henry about your arm. You suppose it would be best to write him a letter. No doubt he’ll worry about you like he always does, but you have to say something. He’s the only family you’ve got left, after all.
But you might have trouble writing, and you’re not sure anyone else here speaks Kroskan. Then again, if someone does, they’ve probably talked to the recordkeeper about it, so you decide to pay him a visit. Maybe you can talk to him about possible job opportunities, too.
So you head over to the archives, only to hear some loud yelling. Cautiously, you open the door and see Tom First.
“The oven’s not supposed to go on that late at night! It needs downtime so it doesn’t build up too much gas. Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to fix it?”
“I do apologize. I needed to dry the documents somehow, I considered salt but I knew that was a rare commodity…”
“I can’t believe I’m going to have to start locking the oven up at night now. If I even get it fixed. Ugh, we might need to have to order in some supplies… and what if there’s another rain, this is awful.”
It sounds like Tom First is having an argument with the recordkeeper. You wonder if you should stick around. Is there anything you can really do here?
You may as well. It’s not like you’ve got anywhere else to be.
Ehhh, yeah turn around. Go visit Burgundy and tell her you forgive her!!!
John Medic might have some paper supplies, you don’t have to get in the middle of an argument right now