Master Turvon’s “mansions,” to be honest and frank, were not designed for guests at all, especially girls from noble families. In the basement of the tower, the same one where the necromancer received rare visitors, there was a kitchen. Rough stone walls, a primitive hearth in which you could roast a whole deer if desired, a shelf with simple pottery, a huge table, several squat oak stools. Door to the pantry, hole to the basement. The Virita deglia Bornio that Marius remembered would have been afraid to look here out of the corner of her eye, let alone calmly enter. And the girl, whom the mentor had seated on a stool by the fire, looked around with interest and declared approvingly:
– It’s beautiful here. Atmospheric. At such a table, it’s not about chewing sandwiches, but about stuffing meat.
“Bring the meat, student,” the master ordered. – Just open the window first. “That’s it,” he waved his hand to where a dark horse’s muzzle loomed behind the cloudy glass. – And don’t even think about giving him a carrot!
– And what?
– Yes, the same as for us. Just put it on a tray so that it’s convenient to eat with a horse’s muzzle.
I had to put aside curiosity and do what students are supposed to do under the master – that is, “cook, bring, serve” (and thank you that mentor Turvon did without the final “get out”!). Smoked venison, fresh village bread (just yesterday I ran to the baker for it!), foamy beer in a keg – a real feast. Although not exactly the kind of treat that should be served to a noble maiden. But the guest ate and drank with visible pleasure – and with the same visible lack of manners. It was probably a good thing that the real Virita was somewhere out there, fainting in her own head. Otherwise I would have fainted again, for real.
“So, our dear and so far nameless guest…” Master Turvon began when Marius set out the treats and sat down opposite the girl.
– Why is it nameless?! – without listening to the end, she became indignant. – My name is Natalya. Yes, Natasha.
– This is the name of your world, your former body. And you, let me tell you, are just a soul. Before a new incarnation, souls forget their previous life.
– I don’t know anything, I remember everything. And in general, some kind of “new incarnation”?! You, as I understand it, pulled me out here, stuck me in someone else’s body, which, by the way, is an adult and quite occupied. Not ready for a new life! This is not to mention the fact that I somehow missed the ending of the old one! Your job?