~ THE KITCHENS ~
> You enter a voluminous pantry, cluttered with rusty cookpots and dishware. The shelves have been thoroughly ransacked. Empty sacks of flour lay strewn about.
> You hear a conspicuous clanking grow louder from behind a door. Suddenly, it bursts open. You see a hulking knight with a narrow helmet, a magnificent plume, and armor the color of oxidized copper. The knight tenses, fists furled. His voice trembles.
"L- leave me be!""
"Oh... apologies. I- I thought you were one of the other residents...""
"They unsettle me. Some would fear me, royal assassin I may be, but I pale at even the thought of those lurking in this citadel."
"I would tell you to leave, but..."
The knight sits on a nearby crate, a task that involves a lot of metallic groaning and aplomb.
"Well, you are here for the, ah, night. Too dangerous to leave now, eh?"
"I would offer you food, but I'm afraid the pantry has long been ransacked."
"My own trade necessitated a certain nutritional preservation."
"I may be an assassin, but I was an artful chef in my own right. The last time I had ingredients was..."
The knight turns to you. Although his face is obscured, you can sense a hunger beneath it, through his words.
"You don't have any food, do you?"
You lie.
"Right, no... I believe you."
"Listen... you'd best lie in the pantries with me tonight. The charlatan likes to move about in a way I find most unsettling... a nocturnal critter, she is."
"In the morning, we ought to have a talk."
Seeing no other choice, you set up your bedroll as comfortable as you can between some empty barrels and let sleep take you.