Alcuin wondered, not for the first time, what manner of thoughts coursed through the werewolf's mind when he shook off the transformation. Derek was a difficult man to read – and that made pressing him for anything more dangerous than even the sharpest point of his teeth. Though it discomfited him somewhat to let the subject drop the werewolf made it clear that he would say no more and perhaps that was for the best. For now, at least. “I drew them up in my spare time when I had naught else to do, sir.”
“Master Anafiel was a canny businessman; I was privy to his financial records on occasion,” he explained, clasping his hands neatly behind his back. “and this was in large part how he kept the larder stockpiled with food, no matter the time of year. What was not consumed was either canned, jellied, or dehydrated and stored for later. However, his workforce was such that his household was very nearly self-sufficient. It is still possible to reduce the cost of food over time.”