It wasn't just the architecture that spelt culture shock for the little group of travellers. Even Glavas, who has visited countless settlements, both big and small during his travels, had never seen anything like the accommodations typical for a dragon hive. Tourism was unheard of when it came to the dragon species, and so in their language, the word "hotel" did not quite exist. What Darmok showed them was a place called Karkara. For the dragons, it was somewhat of a home far from home. Should any of them wish to go on a pilgrimage to a different hive, or perhaps travel there for diplomatic reasons, the Karkara would serve as a temporary place to stay, focused mainly on providing a soft bed for the night, rather than all the other luxuries of a typical tavern or hotel. Much to Glavas' relief, the stay there was free unless the room would suffer any damages. Since the hive would not let simply any visitors inside, Darmok found the idea of collecting money for something as simple as a bed rather barbaric.

The children did not wait and dove right into the little nests offered to them. The local beds were round, soft, and on their circumference, they were surrounded by more padding. As the siblings sank into the mattresses, they both concluded that getting up will only get harder and harder the longer they'd spent there. Mostly due to willpower issues, rather than physical ones.

"Come on you two! It's barely one in the afternoon! Let's go somewhere to eat first," Glavas called to them.

"I can show you a fantastic place where you can really get a bit of everything. A fair warning though. Dragon cuisine can feel strange at first," Darmok warned them.

"Oh, I'm hoping for that," the hunter smirked and began his difficult attempts at pulling his son out of the bed. In the case of his daughter, he knew it was impossible.

Nevertheless, the slowly creeping hunger pulled the children out of the room and back into the hallways of the hive. Fortunately, Darmok did not lead them far. Only barely twenty meters away, literally around a "corner", stood an entrance to a place from which emanated a lovely scent, pulling Glavas closer and closer as if he was a fish caught on a hook.

The inside of the restaurant looked fascinating. The dimmed lights offered a nice cosy atmosphere, sometimes interrupted by little sparks of various colours flying out of the pans and pots. The chefs were dancing around the rectangular, bar-like table, the middle of which was equipped as an open kitchen. The dragons around cheered as they watched the staff cut meat with almost surgical precision, season it, grill it, and serve it, all without even five minutes passing.

"Do you have a recommendation for me?" Glavas asked Darmok the moment they got seated. "I can't read the menu."

"Well, depends on what you'd like."

"The best food you can think of. Money doesn't matter," Glavas smiled. His guide did not even have time to react before a chef shuffled his way.

"Are you an envoy of some kind?" he asked and leaned against the table.

"No. I'm a hunter for hire. Came to visit this place to show my son what a dragon hive looks like. Poor guy was raised by humans and orphaned. He never saw what his native culture would look like." Glavas retold the story with acting worthy of Shakespeare's play. His voice was like a small boat sailing on a small river of melancholy. Under the table, his hand lay in his lap with two fingers crossed. "Maybe the chef will feel sorry for us and give us something for free," he silently wished.

"Oh! I see. What a tragedy. Well, how about something traditional for starters to show what is usually eaten around here and then perhaps something more exotic? A hunter like you will surely appreciate quality meat, right? But maybe with a taste unlike anything you elves might be accustomed to?" the man winked.

"Sounds great!" Glavas agreed and before another word could be shared, the chef sprung to action. Upon a strange word in the dragon language, a different cook brought him a slab of unknown, deep red meat. The man then reached for his knife, twirling and spinning it in his hand before proceeding to separate a very thin slice from the meat chunk. Seeing that both children were watching his prowess with fascination on their faces brought forth his wide grin.

Once he prepared six perfect slices, his hands danced around the seasoning. It was like watching a professional pianist. Each arm acted independently, reaching blindly, yet accurately for the right vials, taking just the right amount of spice, and then sprinkling it over the prepared meat. In the meantime, the dragon's eyes remained stuck to the food, carefully observing if each was done with the correct ratio of herbs, or if perhaps some needed a little bit more. Once all was one, he snatched the slices with a single swipe of his arm. In his hand, they sat like little petals of a flower. He raised them high and a light blue flame appeared in between them. The dark red colour of the meat quickly began disappearing, turning into an almost pastel orange. The meat let out a few crackling sounds before rolling upward, almost hugging the flame like a little closing flower bud. The other guests watched the spectacle and some even clapped a little once it was finished, adding even more noise to the already busy establishment. The chef split the rolls among three plates and added something that at first glance seemed like mushed rice.

"Hope you'll find it tasty," the man winked and served the plates. The sight of such colourful food, along with the wonderful smell, conjured a song of three hungry stomachs. Fortunately, the noise of the restaurant seemed to drown it out.

The taste of the meal was indescribable. Glavas' hand quickly reached for his notebook and his charcoal pen kept crossing out and modifying almost every statement he made about the dish. It was like eating a full plate in just one bite. The taste was intense. The meat was juicier than it appeared to be, and yet not too much to make it feel soggy. The more they chewed one of the tiny rolls, the more flavour they seemed to have. At first, it started off with a taste similar to simply grilled bacon, but it very soon evolved into something else. A herbal and earthy taste followed, only to be quickly replaced by something spicy and rather close to a mix between black pepper and chilly. Before one could even complain about the spiciness of the dish, however, the taste faded into what could only be described as a breath of coldness, bringing along a perfectly performed duet between sweet and savoury. Once the show was over, the white mush began taking its place. The sweetness stayed, but the rest of the taste slowly faded into a well-measured bitterness, which only amplified the desire to eat another bite.

"Wow..." a rather loud exclamation escaped Surdi's lips, making a few nearby dragons laugh at the reaction.

Before Glavas knew it, a page in his notebook was filled, and yet if he was asked what the dish tasted like, he'd have no idea where to start.

"So?" the chef asked with a smug smile on his face.

"My friend, you are an artist," Glavas smiled and reached for the second roll on his plate. "You can bet I'll be wanting more of these."

"Hehe, those are just appetizers. The main course will be a lot more surprising, so I'd suggest not stuffing yourselves too much." The chef then reached under the counter and slid a small piece of paper toward Glavas. There, with terrible handwriting, was written the name of the dish, as well as the price in human currency. The number surprised Glavas. It was indeed expensive, just as he expected, but in his life, he had paid much more for far worse meals. As far as his opinion went, the price was justified and nicely fit into his budget.

"So, how'd you like it?" A voice suddenly came from beside Glavas. A dragon had practically crashlanded onto the chair next to him. He immediately turned his back to the kitchen and leaned against the edge of the counter, resting his elbows on it. As he appeared, his bright yellow scales seemed to have illuminated the whole restaurant.

Glavas eyed the stranger. He did not look like someone who would prepare the meal. The typically white chef uniform was nowhere to be found. Instead, this stranger's choice of clothing seemed to be as minimalistic as possible. His sleeveless leather vest was practically dangling on him, not even tied in the front, and therefore exposing his upper body. His shorts seemed to have been made with a similar fashion style in mind, ending slightly below his knees. At first glance, this dragon seemed far better clothed for the hot environment of the drylands than Darmok.

"I did. But I don't suppose you're the chef." Glavas' eyes stopped on the man's massive metal bracers. They were practically wrapped in chains. Considering he was barely wearing anything, such a fashion choice seemed even more out of place than it would be with most normal people.

"Nah, but I'm the one who brought it here," he grinned and pointed to a large chunk of meat that another chef was preparing for different guests.

Surdi slid his hand across his head, pretending to only be scratching. The difference between his face and that of the stranger seemed simply too vast. The man had a pair of spikes coming out of his chin, as well as a row of smaller ones running along in two rows around his head, slightly above his eyes. To compensate for it though, he seemed to lack any larger horns and only sported four shorter stumps coming out of the back of his head. Similarly to Darmok, his face was moulded in more of a cubist style with sharper features.

"Oh, so you're a butcher?" Glavas asked and stuffed his mouth with the second meat roll.

"Now that is insulting. We're practically colleagues, you know?"

"Colleagues?"

"Yes. I'm a hunter too."

"Oh. Well, I'm a hunter of monsters. I hunt to protect people. So no, we're not really colleagues."

"And what do you think I hunt?"

"Food?" Glavas shrugged and looked at a dish on the opposite side of the table.

"Who says you can't hunt both?"

"Really? You would never be able to feed everyone if you just hunted beasts for protection. That wouldn't produce enough meat for all the people here."

"Clearly you haven't been here long enough. The drylands are full of dangerous creatures. Out here, you can truly hunt to protect and to bring food to the table."

Glavas shrugged. "Okay, sure, if you say so. The meat is excellent if that's what you came to hear."

"Nah, I came here for a proposal!"

"Oh? What does a hunter need my help with? You having trouble with your prey?" A wide smile appeared on Glavas' face, which the dragon quickly returned.

"Nah. I just wanted to get to know you. Other hunters rarely come here so I'd love to hear some stories."

"And I'd love to tell them, but I prefer to eat without too much speaking.

"Of course! That's what drinking is much better for, isn't it?"

Glavas raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to go drinking with you?"

"Hell yeah! Nobody wants to anymore since I'm quite resistant to alcohol. And Darmok here is a bloody teetotaller." He turned over to the red dragon, whose only response was a deep growl.

"So I want a drinking buddy. Plus, a fucking elf who adopted a human and a dragon? Now that's something I wanna hear. Heck, might even write about that. Such a book would be quite a money maker."

"Sorry, but as you just said, I have kids here. Can't just leave them alone and go goofing off."

"What? Why the hell not? They're old enough. The girl is... I don't know, in the post-larva stage or something, and the boy looks to be in his late thirties. Come on! They can take care of themselves."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"Because you don't have a reason."

"I do."

"Out with it then."

Glavas clenched his fist. "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

The dragon saluted. "Yes, sir. Now spill it!"

"There's an evil man after them. The one who orphaned them. He can appear anywhere. Has this... portal magic. We should be out of his reach, but I don't want to risk it."

"That's it? Man, do you even have a fucking clue where you are?"

"Skinscale hive?"

"Yes! A bloody dragon hive! You think those glowing symbols on the walls are for decoration?"

"Aren't they?" Alma jumped into the conversation.

"Well... partially, yes, but they are also for protection! Why do you think it's so fucking difficult to get into a dragon hive? Sturdy walls and a magical shield. Unless your buddy is planning to besiege this place, which I would absolutely love to see, your kids are safe."

Glavas went quiet for a moment.

"It would be on me," the dragon added. "Aha! I got you interested, right? I saw your ears twitch! Like little pointy antennas."

Alma turned to her father. "If you want to go, you can. We'll be fine. Can stay in public spaces to make sure nothing will happen. Plus there is the shield as..." she looked at the dragon.

"Veloc," the dragon introduced himself and did a slight bow.

"Alma, pleased to meet you. So, as Veloc said, there is a shield, Clive told you that this place is out of Ruundanedai range, and we'll have other people to help us if needed. We can take care of ourselves!"

Glavas leaned to the side, looking past the yellow-scaled hunter. "Hey, Darmok?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look after my kids?"

"Well, not actively, no. I've got errands to do. But I can keep an eye on them every once in a while."

"Just make sure they are safe, alright?"

"Don't worry. Infiltrating a hive would be incredibly stupid. As the gate guard, I will make sure no invaders come after your children."

"Thanks. Much appreciated."

"So, does that mean we're drinking?" Veloc asked and his smile showed a long row of impressively sharp teeth.

Glavas took one last glance at the children, before finally giving him an answer: "You're paying though."