As Lucius and Nova continued their meal, the private dining chamber had become the center of an extraordinary silent spectacle. Court officials gathered at a respectful distance, their shock palpable as they witnessed their king consuming actual food with evident enjoyment.

  A hush had fallen over the observers. The simple act of Lucius lifting a fork to his mouth seemed to shatter foundations of vampire society more thoroughly than any decree or procmation could have. With each bite, the mythology of vampire limitations crumbled further.

  "Is this your first time having roasted venison?" Lucius asked Nova, his tone casual as if they weren't at the center of a paradigm-shifting moment.

  Nova nodded, savoring the rich fvors. "My former owner only provided the minimum to keep me functional. Mostly tasteless nutrient pastes." His matter-of-fact description of centuries of deprivation contrasted sharply with his evident enjoyment of the present meal.

  Among the watching officials, whispered theories began to circute.

  "It must be a special king's ability," one noble murmured, "something unique to his royal status."

  "Perhaps it's a power that comes with age," another suggested. "After two thousand years, perhaps all vampires could develop such capabilities."

  "What if everything we've been told about our limitations is false?" a third whispered, this question sending a visible ripple of discomfort through the gathered observers.

  Lucius appeared completely unconcerned about their specutions, his focus remaining on Nova. "And what do you think of the spiced wine?" he asked, nodding toward Nova's untouched goblet.

  Nova hesitated, then admitted, "I've never had wine before."

  "Ah," Lucius responded with understanding. "Try just a small sip first. The fvor can be quite intense if you're unaccustomed to it."

  This casual guidance—the Vampire King offering dining advice as if he were a longtime connoisseur of human food—stunned the watching court even further. It suggested not just the ability to consume food but centuries of experience with it.

  As Nova cautiously tasted the wine, his expression brightened with surprise at the complex fvors. Lucius smiled, clearly pleased by Nova's discovery.

  "Have you ever had proper food before?" Lucius asked, continuing to build their connection through these simple, personal questions.

  Nova shook his head. "I was created in a boratory," he expined matter-of-factly. "My former owner only provided nutrient solutions designed for optimal function, not pleasure. Occasionally, when I performed exceptionally well, I would receive something slightly sweetened, but nothing like this."

  The casual revetion of his origins—a hybrid experiment created in a b—contrasted sharply with the simple pleasure he took in the meal before him.

  "Then we have much to explore," Lucius responded with genuine warmth.

  This mundane conversation about food preferences occurred against the backdrop of revolutionary revetion. With each exchange, each casual bite, Lucius systematically dismantled millennia of carefully maintained secrecy about his true nature.

  A servant approached hesitantly with a fresh pitcher of water, visibly struggling between protocol requiring service and shock at what he was witnessing. Lucius acknowledged him with a nod, continuing his conversation with Nova without interruption as his goblet was refilled.

  "Tomorrow we'll have a variety of fruits prepared," he promised Nova. "You can discover what you've been missing."

  The simple statement—implying future meals together—suggested this wasn't a one-time revetion but the beginning of a new normal. This realization sent another wave of shock through the observers.

  Throughout the meal, Lucius maintained this careful bance—treating the extraordinary as ordinary while introducing Nova to experiences long denied him. Each moment of connection between them represented both personal retionship building and the deliberate public dismantling of vampire society's fundamental assumptions.