Strum watched critically as the meat pie pile grew at the stall. His very presence ensured none of the Chieftain’s thugs would show up. Even if it was unlikely, they couldn’t risk it. With Gikx’s challenge in the air, rumors were spreading like flame through the cavern. The Hero and Chieftain, engaged in a culinary war for honor. There could be no hits to their reputation before the challenge.

There was no way Gikx pulled through and won. Strum dreaded where it would leave them. But, at the very least, this dish would move public favor more to their side.

Cultivating their loyalty was equal parts displaying power and rewarding them. Using only power to take over did not sit right with him, and Regis would never allow it. Violence ill-suited the dungeon.

Besides, he’d heard stories of proper dungeons. He’d rather have this ‘mad’ dungeon, than one willing to pit all its inhabitants against adventurers for more power. To be honest, he felt scared to put Regis anywhere near that line, afraid that the dungeon might snap.

Given the dungeon's current disposition toward violence, Regis surprised Strum when he let Vraz off the hook. Despite stabbing another goblin, there hadn't been a real punishment. A week of dishes. He supposed the being Regis' favorite held perks.

Wort ferried the pies to the stall, as Vraz stacked them and prepared the counter. Already the tribe gathered in great numbers; goblins salivated as the heavenly aroma of baked meat, onions, and herbs rushed their senses.

When Gikx lost the fight, they would lose support in the tribe. Without getting more loyal goblins now, Rurk would have an easy time convincing the goblins to swarm the kitchen and out Regis once and for all. Which would force them to flee or fight. But if the goblins were a bit more reluctant to attack, it might give them a day or two. After this meal service, the hero would undergo strict training with Vraz. But. Well, Strum wasn’t optimistic about the results.

“What-is-wrong?” Jilde asked, head tilted as those fangs of hers poked free from a frown.

“Nothing. Uh, just business. Worried about the twins, and where all this is heading.”

She grabbed him by the wrist, giving him a small squeeze. “He’ll find-a-way to win.”

“How are you so certain?”

She swayed in place. Lips puckered. “He’s not much, normally, is he? Pig-headed-and-foolish. But, when it counts. He-pulls-through. That’s why he’s a hero.” Her eyes traced the growing pile of meat pies near the stall. Vraz waved away yet another early group of goblins. Soon.

Goblins would give anything for a meal. Their loyalty lay in their stomachs, and this food targeted all the tastes and sensibilities important to an average goblin. Strum even considered taking a pie for himself—though, it’d be best to share with Jilde. Greed didn’t suit him, and he didn’t want to take too much.

That smell. The more pies they added, the more his hunger roared to life. An angry beast demanding to tear into the heady mixture of onions and meat. He could take it no longer. Jilde gave him a smile as his stomach rumbled. Screw manners.

Strum walked to the stall. Vraz gave him a raised eyebrow, and a bit of a mock salute. “What can I do for you, boss?” he asked.

“I’m taking one.”

Vraz arched an eyebrow as Strum nabbed a pie off the counter. Steam slowly rolled off the slits cut in the top. An herbaceous reek of the meat and veggies. He turned, marching right back to Jilde.

She sniffed, then let out a soft noise of pure joy. “We-get-to-eat-it?!”

“Yeah, you go first.” Strum pushed it into her hands. As hungry as he was, a good leader let their followers take priority. She hesitated—claw almost cutting in.

“No-I-couldn’t—you eat first!”

Vraz made a gagging noise from behind the stand. Strum turned to glare at the cook—getting a grin from the bastard. Vraz gestured at the pie, then gave a thumbs up.

“How about this, you uh, cut in. Then we try it at the same time.”

Jilde gave a little leap, before digging that claw of hers into the pie—and quickly quartered it. She didn’t wait before grabbing one of her fourths of the pie, holding it and looking at Strum with expectant eyes. He joined her, taking a brief moment to admire the cross-section of meat dotted with vegetables.

“To the future.”

“To-us!”

Strum shoved half of the slice in his mouth. It went off like a bomb—flooding him with the natural notes of garlic and meat. Underscored and bound together in the starch of the potato, which seemed to absorb all of the flavors and wrap them together in a neat knot. The carrot was subtle but ever-present beneath, highlighting the pungent onion in a delicate balance of cave flavors. Fatty, filling, and divinely decadent. Before Strum realized, he’d scarfed down the rest of the one in his hand—and already began to shove a second slice in.

Jilde matched him—smile wide as she too moved on to the second piece. Barely pausing to breathe.

They rejoiced in the delightful food. It filled a part of Strum he didn’t realize was missing—he idly felt the life mana spinning from his stomach. Running through his veins and giving his body a vibrant lightness—before it funneled into his core to convert to his own fire affinity.

Those without a core? Well, that feeling would linger for hours, rather than tens of minutes. Jilde finished her last bite a few seconds after him, letting out a contented sigh as she leaned against him.

Well, if she was tired, he didn’t begrudge her for using him as a rest. Ground-Father below knew she’d done enough over the last year. This food had a second delayed reaction—one that was less influential on him. In some, it brought a contented weariness. Others, an excess of energy. So what if she leaned on him, her act of even remaining on her feet was a testament to her fortitude.

The rest of the goblins watched with envy. Drool ran down their chins, as they stared at the crumbs on the ground. Were their positions reversed, Strum would feel the same. But fortunately for them, they didn’t have much longer to wait.

Vraz strode out from behind the stall—banging two pots together, before spreading his arms wide. A cocky grin, as always, dominated his face. “Today you all have a special treat! Regis has decided to give a special gift to his favorite tribe! Due to your loyalty, and buying his food—he made this for you all!”

He repeated it once more, dumbed down for the less intelligent.

Then a third time, this time the translation came out as “Dungeon make free good food for good goblins!” Truly appealing to the most common dominator, roughly about a third of the tribe.

With each pass explaining the food, he banged the pans to add emphasis, the goblin cheers grew louder. With even the stupidest goblin now on board, Vraz shifted back behind the stall and commenced the feeding frenzy. Goblins pushed forward in a hectic crowd—allowed to freely grab their pies. After which they gathered in small groups, gluttons for the meat and veggies. Letting out coos of appreciation. Strum felt a thrum of mana run through them as the life mana bloomed after they ate.

In short order, the feast spawned into an impromptu miniature festival. Cheerful and energetic goblins fell to the influence of life mana and put on a display to celebrate. Some of those not dragged down grabbed drums—starting a pounding beat that rang through the crowd. It seemed a coin flip if the food drove them into sublime sleepiness or excessive joy. A hobgoblin even rolled out stolen casks of booze. Turning this simple act of a free meal into an even larger form of generosity; goblins were usually selfish creatures, at least in this tribe.

A fire dancer took center stage, performing an ancient ritual Strum hadn’t seen in quite some time. Celebrating the division between the Ground-Father and those Above. A thin reedy goblin woman spun torches and weaved the fire in a snake-like pattern. More meat pies made the rounds, every goblin that wanted food got it.

This meal freed them. Set them loose from self-serving greed. A chance to enjoy their lives; delighting in the company of one another. A true tribe.

Strum sighed, the last of the pies now gone. Vraz and Wort began to wipe down the stall, letting the party proceed, as they brought their equipment back to the kitchen. No goons came. No sight of Rurk or Mallik. Neither would dare come out to face the public’s eye as appreciation for Regis ran high throughout the crowd.

For once, this seemed to be an actual society of goblins looking out for one another; living to bring each other joy. Was life mana truly this powerful? Did food really have this power to unite?

Jilde shifted at his side, a tired smile on her face. She slipped her hand into his.

Oh well. He’d let it be. Strum focused on the spinning flames of the goblin dancer, mesmerized by her swift and practiced movements. How long could she go? Once upon a time, the fire dance would take the whole night, until the sun rose from the earth. He’d been but a small hobgoblin when he last saw such a sight. The death of the old shaman brought many changes, priorities had shifted. But with them, so did his sense of this being a home. A feeling he’d long given up on, until now.

“Once again we face the momentous and ill-advised task of constructing you into something that isn’t complete and utter rubbish.” Regis floated by Gikx. The scrawny goblin denied him true satisfaction, turning his impudent nose up at the dungeon. He jammed a scrawny finger against his chest.

“Gikx hero. Cook better than mad dungeon. Learn from Vraz!”

“You’re scarcely qualified to wield a knife, let alone face off against anyone in the culinary field. It boggles my mind to consider how far we’ve fallen to reach such a dismal situation. The fact this holds repercussions for me is beyond infuriating. You’re doomed to failure, and there is little point in running ourselves through this farce.” The oven flared with a flash of heat. Wort woke with a groan, rubbing his stomach and giving a half-hearted complaint. “Leave my kitchen. This is pointless.”

“Aw, c’mon Chef. You don’t gotta deal with him at all. Strum’s gonna be pissed if we don’t try. I’ll handle it, promise.” Vraz gave Regis a thumb-up. Gikx stuck his tongue out at the crystal, which Regis decided to pretend he did not notice.

“Only because it’s your request, will I entertain this abysmal waste of time. If nothing else, then perhaps it shall increase your capability to teach when faced with difficult circumstances. Some day you will train others in the kitchen. Consider this your test run—if you drill in even the simplest concept into this utter moron’s skull, then I’m sure you’ll be successful in the future.” Regis pretended to wash his hands of this training. Zooming away to inspect the pantry.

His physical form may have left them. But he kept a keen thread of awareness on their actions. Regis refused to care about Gikx, that impudent whelp, but the abilities of Vraz were paramount to this kitchen’s future. After the cook’s failure to learn baking, Regis needed confirmation that this goblin still had the potential to rise to the future he saw.

He dreaded to consider that he might need to cultivate another to be his second-in-command. But, if Vraz failed… Well, some cooks were bound to keep ascending, others remained content in their positions. He needed someone with the right drive, and that wasn’t something that he could teach. Still. He hoped that Vraz would show him something.

Vraz led Gikx to a chopping board. To the dungeon’s surprise, Vraz didn’t seem irritated—actually, he was smiling. He fished in his pack and pulled out a blue bandanna. With a smile, he handed it over to the hero. Gikx let out a cackle of delight. Tying it around his head—a complete contrast to the red one worn by the actual cook. As strange as it was, in a way it was practical. No sweat in the food. Though, it disgusted him to see Gikx matching Vraz.

They ran through basic knife drills, using mudcaps as practice. Gikx actually performed the correct movements. Using a method of cutting he’d refused to use when Regis had instructed him how in much more detail. The oven flared once more with heat. Pathetic waste of space.

The nerves of the upcoming food contest must have led the stupid goblin into some form of enhanced state of learning. An act of pure desperation to preserve Gikx's foolish sense of pride. That goblin’s ego was the size of a boulder, any threat to it would obviously push the fool into overdrive. It wasn’t like Vraz was a more capable teacher than himself. His cook lacked the critical knowledge and insight the dungeon had; Even with a hundred years of cooking, Regis doubted Vraz could match him.

Regis did his best to ignore that Gikx seared the mushrooms without overcooking them into mush. Nor did he pay mind to the fact that after an hour, the goblin managed to cut an onion the correct way for the first time ever within this kitchen. Or, that later, Gikx cleaned a knife after cutting meat without being asked. This was all just a desperate bid. Gikx was trash. Always would be trash. There wasn’t any fault in Regis’ teaching methods. None.