Presently the food came. The basted, well-cooked legs of what seemed to be either very well fed goats, or very young calves were surrounded by warm bread and chunks of potato. Othnar paid no attention to the potatoes and took up his leg of meat, and took a large bite of it. His stomach had been growling for an hour at the least. He wasn't thrilled with the taste of it, but he chalked it up to being not the fault of the animal, but the preparer of it. Perhaps, he thought, it was simply because a mortal had prepared it.
"It is not the best food, but it is food, and the animals were not slaughtered without purpose." He decided out loud.