Its been roughly a month since you found a really sick sword in the woods, which you naturally needed to grab. After all, who says no to a sick ass sword? Either way, it was apparently cursed with the spirit of an old templar knight who now just kinda lingers around you at all times. You have honestly had worse company so there is that at least. You look in your rather meager pantry at the moment and Richard peeks into the cabinet as well. "Lackluster options continues to haunt thee sire. I hardly see naught a morsel worthy of consumption amongst these rations. Spaghetti once more, prithee?" Richard says solemnly from underneath his helmet, nodding in solidarity at your plight