"Please take care of yourself, Master. I've packed a lunchbox for you."
Mirela spoke the words with a formal bow that displayed both respect and genuine concern.
As she straightened, she handed Klaus not just a single lunchbox but an entire impressive stack of them balanced carefully atop each other… at least seven or eight containers, all meticulously wrapped in clean white cloth and tied with simple twine.
She of all people in Klaus's party understood the brutal, unforgiving difference in social dynamics between Commoners and Nobles in this world.
The hierarchy was absolute, enforced by law and tradition and the threat of violence and though she deeply disliked it… though it made her blood boil with suppressed rage to see her Master being treated as less than human by some spoiled aristocrat. There wasn't anything she could practically do about it without signing her own death warrant.
