Foxes eating dinner was a refined thing, or at least that was what Chip had understood. Even at lunch, they had handkerchiefs and they rarely let the sauces on their working garb. Otters eating dinner was an all our food fight. Everytime. The eight people in the raft that Chip called his family, two raft brothers younger than him, his auntie, mother, father and uncle and his elder sister all converged on the same table at the same time. The reason they all ate at once was simple logistics, it was easier to feed all eight people at once rather than two or three at a time. As a result, Otter kitchens and dinings rooms tended to be the focus of the household. Chip had heard that beavers did it the same way. "Chip!" his father Stone said, embracing him, "How was it?" "It was great, dad," Chip said hugging him back, "How's mom and auntie Carol?" "Well Auntie Carol had a run in with one os the beavers today and they got into a debate over whether their way of life is better than ours, and well you understand that we like to keep it non-hierarchical in this house, right?" His father said. Chip could feel him getting into one of his old rants about how the beavers did everything wrong, but especially poly. "Let me guess, the beaver advocated for the partnered hierarchy, similar to what the coalition creatures do?" Chip pretended to feign a shocked face. "Yes, yes...hey wait a minute," Stone said, grinning as he ribbed Chip, "Anyway since I've been retired now for a month, your auntie took this beaver back here for tea and I got to talking to her also.." Chip sighed. "Let me guess, you told her that beavers calling their groupings floats instead of rafts made everything sound so odd? Really dad it's like you never met a beaver you could trust," Chip walked his father to the porch as he heard dishes getting placed. "I trust your mother, and Carol," Stone said. "But they're not Beavers, they're just..." Chip said, pausing to admire the sun lowering over the Yellowrock mesa, west of their home. "Dinner!" Aunt Carols voice rang out. The two male otters hurried inside. After a short contest of wills, each otter in the raft got to eat their fill. Sitting before empty plates, Stone and Brit cleaned the table as Aunt Carol grilled Chip. "So Chip, I heard that you might enter a contest of some sort?" Aunt Carol said. She was a taller otter with a blue bonnet, blue vest and pink tunic on point. She worked as one of the merchant middle management for the Riverfolk Mercenary Company and Community Trust. "That's right," Chip said. "Winning a mercantile contest would be good for you, I think. It would set you up to be a merchant instead of one of the regular mercenaries. It's a shame that we all have to do mandatory service once we come of age," she said. "Well at least they guarantee a job," Chip said, "But the next step I need to take is to figure out which spices to take or get to win. We need to fix the sauce so it appeals to more than just otters and foxes. I don't know if I should head to the indoor bazaar or the bazaar on the top of the mesa, but also we need to make sure that we're getting the best fish for these foxes. What do you think auntie?" "Well, your father is out of work and he just spends all day sharpening his swords.. so" Aunt Carol mouthed 'Ask him'. Chip nodded. "With three of you, you could split the efforts. I could look for the best fish, if you figure out what you want?" "Thanks," Chip said, "I'll get back to you on that. This means I might have to go to the indoor bazaar as well as the one on top. If you get some good fish, then bring it to dinner tomorrow and I need to zero in on the foxes palettes." Chip scratched his head. "I feel like there's something I'm missing though."