McKinney slowly turned his head to look at the butler, his face full of impatience, and a slight coldness in his drunken eyes: "What did you say?"
The butler's body shivered, his voice trembling: "It's true, sir... Although the granary looks ample, during this period, you... have been hosting banquets daily, consuming large amounts of grain and meat... At this rate... I'm afraid it won't last beyond the end of February..."
"Smack!!"
McKinney suddenly stood up, raised his hand, and gave the butler a slap with such force that the skinny old man fell to the ground.
"Nonsense! Are you cursing me to starve to death?!" McKinney roared through gritted teeth, his face grimacing.
The butler covered his face and knelt on the ground, trembling and remaining silent.
This baron hosted three banquets a day, slaughtering whole cows and sheep, with a cart of wine delivered each week, and two barrels of leftover food discarded daily...
