Gikx leaned over his appointed makeshift kitchen opposite Rurk’s. A collection of goblins gathered around to witness their duel. He’d felt nervous the entire night. Especially after his friend told him the truth, they were out to cheat him. To cheat Gikx. He’d worked hard. Worked so hard. Unfair! Unfair!

He slammed the table and snarled, catching a side-eye from Strum. The manager was busy inspecting the gathering. “Are you uh, okay? You have bags under your eyes.” Strum asked.

“Gikx fine! Gikx win!” he flexed his mighty bicep and slammed his masculine hero hand on it, giving the manager a yellow-toothed grin. Nobody would know what lurked beneath. No. That was not what a hero did. They stood firm. Tough goblins didn’t bend to the pressures of the world, they stood as straight as a statue for the rest of the tribe to rely on. He wouldn’t let them in. Wouldn’t let Strum know that they planned to cheat, at the end of the day, it wouldn’t change a thing, Gikx was here to save the day. Show them what a true hero was.

Gikx checked to make sure the wrapped mushroom. There it was. In its leather. He let out a breath of relief, all of his dreams rode on it.

A hobgoblin arrived at the opposite table—hauling a basket filled completely with meats. So many meats. Gikx fidgeted as he looked at the collection. More meats were better! Why didn’t Vraz give him more?! Gikx stared at the cut of game on his table, which did little to compare to the mountain of flesh waiting for Rurk.

A goblin just wanted a full belly. What filled a belly better than delicious seared meat?

He’d gone along with his friend’s calls on what he should make, but seeing the birds, fish, and game on his opponent’s table; Gikx couldn’t suppress a spark of fear.

Rurk came shortly after, a sneer on his face, barely looking in Gikx’s direction as he took a position by his makeshift kitchen. Gikx couldn’t let that stand. The hero strode right up to the chieftain and puffed up his chest. “Gikx win! Bury dumb chieftain!”

“As if. I cannot wait to toss out you and that mad dungeon. This is my tribe! Mine!” Rurk stepped closer, face growing red. Gikx wished he would hit him, he didn’t care if it violated this challenge. They should’ve been fighting with clubs, not kitchen knives. That was the goblin way. Gikx balled his fists.

“Ahem.” Strum cleared his throat, giving them both a warning glance. “Mallik will be here in a moment. He will explain the rules, then the contest will begin. Cool off and get your workstation ready, Gikx.”

Gikx stuck a tongue out at the chieftain before returning to his station. All of the herbs and ingredients were there. The fire to cook with already lit. His pan was there. Vraz’s knife…

Where was Vraz?

Gikx looked around the cavern. Searching through the crowd of goblins to spot his friend. No red bandanna anywhere. Gikx frowned, fidgeting. Hadn’t his friend said he’d be here to support him? This wasn’t easy. Gikx didn’t wanna be alone. He looked at his shaking hand. Hero no shake. Hero do what need done. Gikx win for Vraz. He straightened his back, pulling out the blue bandanna, and tying it around his head. Gikx closed his eyes and calmed his breathing, a technique Vraz taught him to maintain a calm mind.

A few moments later the goblins began to beat the ceremonial drums. Gikx opened his eyes, the trick worked, and his head was clear. Mallik walked towards the center ring, a wide grin on his face. He scanned the Shadow-Axe tribe, nearly all of the goblins crowded around to watch the challenge, it’d been all they had to talk about for the last week. “Welcome, welcome!” Mallik called out, spreading his arms wide. “Today we are here to witness the challenge of Gikx and Rurk. As you all know, this is bigger than that! Our goblin hero also represents the dungeon!”

In a second the crowd erupted in a loud cheer—which slowly transformed to a more subdued approval as Rurk’s thugs circled the crowd and forced the louder cheering goblins into submission. Gikx didn’t like that mean shiny stone much. But it seemed the shiny had grown in popularity.

“They will have an hour to cook! In that time they must serve up three meals to be consumed by the judges! I shall judge, representing the approval of Ground-Father! But I will have two others—Strum, to judge on behalf of the dungeon, and Mallik to represent the tribe!”

Confused mummers ran through the crowd, and Gikx balled his fists. Unfair! Unfair! He paused, taking a deep breath to touch the covered mushroom on the table. He’d known this would be the case. But it still twisted him to see it through his own eyes.

He’d get through this and win. If the chieftain played unfairly, then Gikx would too.

“I understand the looks of confusion on your faces! But the Ground-Father was firm on this! He is the chieftain of the tribe and therefore deserves a voice in the winning dish! Does any dare question that he would not judge fairly?” Mallik spread his arms out.

Gikx noticed Rurk’s thugs strut around, getting in the face of any goblin that looked like they might speak of. The snarl on Rurk’s face promised that anyone questioning would be beaten. It was okay, They weren’t heroes like Gikx. Better for them to go with the tribe and keep their lives easy. He’d been in the same situation for the longest time before he’d moved to the kitchen and then found the direwolf. But seeing Strum keep himself in check was surprising. The former hobgoblin froze in place, then glared at the shaman, but didn’t seem alarmed. As if this changed nothing for him.

It hurt Gikx to know that Strum never thought Gikx would win. Even with all the work. He planned for Gikx’s loss.

Gikx would prove him wrong. His friend believed in him. He’d do this.

“Good! Since everyone agrees, then we’ll set the terms. If Gikx wins, he becomes chieftain!” Shock ran through the crowd, and Gikx’s eyes went wide. Only in his wildest dreams, did he dare to picture such a thing. They all thought he’d lose. Everyone thought he’d lose, or they would have never given him this chance. But because of Vraz, he knew he’d win; He’d surprise them all. “If he loses, the dungeon and all of its goblins will be exiled.” The shaman finished. But it didn’t matter.

Gikx wasn’t a loser. Gikx was a hero.

Strum stood as still as a statue, eyes now searching Gikx, his face drawn in a thin frown. It seemed this part had caught the manager by surprise, Gikx looked away. He wouldn’t let doubt into his heart, didn’t want to give away that he held the key to winning in the fear they might change the rules of the challenge. Take away his chance at being the chieftain.

“With that! Play the ceremonial drums!” Mallik clapped his hands once, and the war drums started again. A slow beat that increased the tempo until the drums became a hammering roar. “Begin!” The shaman screamed with a flash of purple fire.

Gikx immediately started cutting his herbs. Vraz told him the trick to cooking everything on time was in the front work. By having all of his things prepared for when he needed them later, he’d prevent burning, rushing, or undercooking an ingredient. Focusing on one thing at a time was the best way to cook. Each task brought him closer to taking over the tribe, each chop of the knife, each mushroom joining his bowl.

The thyme, rosemary, all of it stripped and prepared. He set it aside, along with the right amount of salt and pepper. Then he began to hack into the meat, doing his best to mince it. Regis let him put it by the frost mint before he brought it out to the competition. Making it easier to handle. But as he worked the game with the knife it became harder to manipulate—turning into a goopy meat slop.

Not much he could do. Gikx tossed it in the bowl, going through each of his ingredients and preparing them properly; his station was a mix of greens and mushrooms. He cut all of the mushrooms—aside from the special one. Everything was in its proper place. Like he’d been taught.

Once he’d cut everything he could, he figured he’d taken around a good ten minutes to set himself up for success, Gikx finally brought out the magic mushroom.

Vraz told him to be careful. Not mix it with anything. Gikx chopped it up. To him, it looked like any other mudcap, but he believed in his friend. If this was the trick, had some magics, he’d use it to win. He set it in a special bowl.

Gikx would add it to the dish at the end. If it was magic then it wouldn’t need anything else.

Once it was safely put aside, Gikx mixed the meat with the spices. He made sure to work it in order to distribute everything evenly. Vraz had stressed the importance of this. If each bite tasted different—had too much or too little spice—it would make the food lower quality; Gikx was the best of the best, so he needed to serve the best. Simple and easy. He took a whiff of the mixed meat.

Herbaceous, delicious aroma mingling with meat and fat would sear and further flood his station with their scents. For now, they’d be fine.

Gikx did one last scan. An unchopped onion hid away behind a bowl.

Oh! Gikx forgot! He pulled out the knife—cutting the onion. Vraz told him to cut the magic mushroom last, but he couldn’t help it now, what was he going to do, just cook a whole half on an onion?

It would be fine!

Gikx returned to cooking, forming the meat and herbs into equally sized oval patties, he checked the temperature of his pan before flopping the minced steak on top. Instantly the pan sizzled, butter bubbles appearing where the metal met the meat.

Garlic, thyme, and oregano fumed out from the searing steak, making Gikx’s mouth water. He felt tempted to just pluck one of the patties out and take a bite—especially after flipping it in the pan, he saw that it’d begun to char. A single chomp of the meat would likely melt in his mouth with the fat and butter. Nice and salty and filled with flavor. Gikx wanted it bad.

But he wanted to be the chieftain badder.

Gikx diligently cooked the minced meat steaks. Once they were seared, he removed them from the pan and threw in his onions. It was important to cook them first and at medium temperature. Or so Vraz said. Gikx adjusted its distance from the fire, making sure to move them constantly. ‘caramelization,’ made them sweet instead of bitter. And Gikx would cook it perfectly.

There was a faint scent to the onions he’d never smelled before—close to its natural sweet yet pungent aroma, but off. An enticing smell that seemed to have an almost tangy bite. He chalked it up to being a special onion. Why would all onions smell the same? Not all goblins were the same.

Once they looked fine, he threw in the mushrooms. Letting them take a golden brown. It was true his magic mushroom wouldn’t be cooked, but Gikx ate raw mushrooms all the time. They tasted fine. And it was magic. So why worry? Why was Gikx worried?

His eyes ran through the crowd again. No Vraz. He frowned, losing his composure. Mallik was talking to Rurk’s thugs who’d gathered weapons as the competition progressed. Probably to keep the rest of the goblins under control. He knew that the tribe would be beyond thrilled when he made Rurk be the one to declare he’d won. Who wouldn’t lose it?

After the mushrooms finished cooking then came more butter and flour. Vraz called this a ‘roux’ but Gikx understood it was a way to make water thicker. He pulled out a jug filled with ‘broth’ which was just water boiled with leftover bone and meat. Gikx poured this in.

Then he snuck a glance at his enemy.

Rurk’s filled his entire cooking space with a plethora of meat, all of it searing and slow cooking in an aroma of earth, sky, and sea. Gikx’s mouth watered at just the sight. The pure abundance of meat on display. As a child he’d struggled to even get a scrap in his mouth—meat went to the bigger and stronger goblins, they got it to make them more powerful. A meal fitting for chieftain. That’s what Rurk was making.

Gikx looked down at his gravy in the saucepan, frowning. Vraz promised him this was better. He’d believe in it.

He added the spices, letting the flavor of the gravy develop before returning the minced steaks to the mix. They would finish cooking in the gravy, letting the flavor of the onions and mushrooms soak in and marry. All of it melting in a single pot of earthy-meat flavor that made his mouth water. It might not be a meal of pure excess. It may not be a meal that would fill a goblin to the point of them having to empty their stomach after. But it would taste fuller than Rurk’s food.

Before he’d worked with Vraz, Gikx thought the very idea was stupid. How could food taste fuller? Vraz proved him wrong. A couple of dishes they’d cooked side by side was all it took to learn that these skills made the food better.

More meat didn’t mean more flavor. Despite what the chieftain thought.

The competition was rapidly coming to a close. Mallik warned them they had three minutes. Gikx plated the steaks—pouring gravy over two of them. Most of the eyes focused on the chieftain piling up a wooden platter with a bundle of meat bigger than a goblin. Gikx reached into his small set aside bowl, throwing a handful of the magic mushroom slices on top of Rurk’s minced steak.

Then he slathered a big spoonful of gravy with more mushrooms and onions on top. Letting it pour over the meat and magic mushrooms. Good. Gikx did good! No mistakes. He’d done it! Perfect. Not even that mean shiny could do better.

Gikx gave a wide smile as the drums hammered again, marking an end to the contest. All that came next was to take his food to the judges. To ensure Rurk got his portion of the food. Then it would all sort itself out. He’d become the chieftain.