Ha. Magnussen, giving? The man would let his own daughter starve to death if it came down to himself versus her, Jim had no doubt, and if that was the case there was no reason for the king to be any more giving to representatives from other kingdoms. He was cold and ruthless and self-centered, and Jim knew already that John would be crushed into submission despite his best efforts, one way or another.
He wished that weren’t the case, but he knew that there were very few people that could stand up to the man at all, even if he elected not to use his magic. With it, things were even less likely to go anyone’s way but the king’s.
“I like to think we do, yes,” he said, not deigning John’s previously voiced concerns with a response aside from a sympathetic smile. There was little he could say, regardless. “It’s fairly simple food, I suppose, on its own, but being as close to the sea as we are, we get quite a collection of spices available to make our food a bit more tasteful than most.” At the mention of going on a trip to John’s kingdom, he looked away, grimacing faintly. “If I get the opportunity, I would love to. But I’m not certain that will be allowed to happen any time soon.” Or ever, in all likelihood. Jim had little doubt that he was to be kept within the walls of the palace until he outlived his use. The only way he would be leaving if things went Magnussen’s way would be in a coffin.
That displeasure was forced from his features within a moment or two, what bit of himself that had been beginning to break through to the surface getting crushed back as he felt the full brunt of the King’s attention back on him. A smile appeared on his own features as he glanced around the gardens, posture getting straighter, lighter. Outwardly happier. “It is, isn’t it? I’m impressed that their gardens survive these temperatures–the plants back home would surely be dead even in this smaller chill.”