Chapter 12: CH11: Cooking And Conversation

Samson chopped up some glowing golden carrots, scraped out the insides of numerous ruby-encrusted oysters, and steamed a massive crab almost simultaneously. The first floor of the cabin had a kitchen, and Samson used it ruthlessly. He hummed the Lunar Sanctum, a popular hymn, while a large pot boiled dragon marrow stock. He sprinkled in a pinch of rare celestial salt and tossed in rare wood element lord job moose tenderloin to the massive pot.

 

The massive leafy vegetable darkened slowly in the boiling golden marrow. He diced sweet unions from the three peaks with some sanctified Sol garlic before turning to the dish's main ingredient.

 

“Please, you can’t do this; my father will grant you any wish if you return me to the river.” The half-dragon catfish struggled in Majorian’s grip as the man read a little black book. Occasionally the leader of the party burst into laughter, freaking everyone in the room out.

 

“Red, don’t just stand there. I need some help.” Samson handed me a heavy sixty-gallon barrel out of his bag with three labeled XXX.

 

“What’s in there?”

 

Ground Dragon piss from a place called Camelot. When the Draccons invaded their lands, they left behind a potent mushroom that could boost a man’s defense. But unfortunately, it's poisonous to us humans and has to be processed twice before we can drink it without dying.

 

“What do you want me to do with it?”

 

“Drink it,” I took a step back.

 

Majorian spoke up. “It’s only been processed once. He wants you to drown our dinner in it. Then seal the lid for about 4 hours.”

 

“That sounds disgusting.”

 

Samson nodded. “I see you’re a picky eater. I wouldn’t think you would be looking at you, but there had to be a reason why you were so skinny.”

 

“I’m poor.”

 

“Then you shouldn’t complain.”

 

“I gain most of my sustenance from sunlight.”

 

“My mistake; I guess you don’t want to get stronger.”

 

Majorian spoke up. “Even nobles don’t eat so well as we do. The meal's origin sounds unsavory, but the benefits are worth it. To gain power, sacrifices are necessary.”

 

I placed the open barrel under the catfish dragon and popped the lid. The acrid smell hit me like a gut punch. “Please don’t do this. I don’t want to drown in piss. My family’s honor will never recover from such an ignoble death.” I took a knife from Samson’s collection and cut the tendons around the catfish’s jaws. Its mouth flopped open, and its tentacles fell out into the barrel. A sucking sound echoed from the barrel as one of the catfish’s feeding tendrils drank greedily. “Oh god, it's so horrible, but I can’t stop myself.”

 

Samson crossed his arms and turned his head to the side. “What are you waiting for?” He tossed me a grizzly-looking pair of plyers. “His body has already gone numb, so flay him and rub this mixture in.” I gripped the fish just under the cut I made on his jaws and pulled. A whole layer of skin came off as I pulled along with some dragon scales.

 

“Don’t do this.” The monster said as I yanked the skin off his tail. From there, the other layers were easier. Once the monster’s muscles were exposed, I messaged the cooking blend into the monster’s muscles before Majorian tipped the table up, dropping the monster into the barrel. Then I put the lid on, and the thrashing began. Finally, Majorian placed a hand on the lit, and the barrel stopped moving.

 

Majorian explained more of the process. “The mixture helps the monster’s body absorb and process the ingredient.”

 

 Samson tossed me a still steaming oyster. I cracked it open and ate the contents. It was buttery and smooth. He tossed one to Majorian and Ariel, who dug into the offered food.

 

+3VIT

VIT 453

 

“What made you interested in cooking?” I asked.

 

“Please let me out. I’ll betray my father and tell you where all the treasures are.”

 

“Well, I like making people happy with my food, helping my comrades, and trying new things. In a dangerous place like a dungeon, I can try rare ingredients and cook for my friends. My food makes us stronger and can be the difference between victory and defeat.”

 

I stared down at the shell of the oyster I had just eaten. Samson’s cooking boosted my stat points. How much stronger would I be after a year of eating food like that? Nobles didn’t have food of this quality, according to Majorian, but they probably had something close. That made the gap between us even greater. My chances of getting into the Super Bowl Skyward Dragon Institute were shrinking the more I knew about my competition.

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Majorian spoke as if reading my mind. “Don’t think too hard on the concept of food benefits. They have diminishing returns. Someone like Samson is far better than any chef a noble could afford. He rivals even the royal cooks in the empire.”

 

I wanted to ask how but the answer stood next to me. Majorian wasn’t just some noble; he was one of the royals. I was certain of it. That made the presence of someone of Samson’s skills less abnormal.

 

The fish spoke up again. “I won’t die; this is all a dream. When I wake up, I’ll be a dragon.”

 

Ariel shook her head. “Those captured by adventurers will become pets, ingredients, or item materials. Every dungeon born knows that, and the only one who can hear him speak doesn’t care.”

 

“Will you also try a bowl?” I asked her.

 

“Of course, I’m not so picky I would reject good food when offered.”

Majorian raised an eyebrow. “You can understand her.” I nodded. “You must have gained the insight stat then. Don’t rely too heavily on it. Some adventurers try to use a charisma and insight build. They always die. Leverage is important to negotiations, and without it, no matter how charming you appear, this is a dungeon.”

 

Samson pulled out a massive brick of dried noodles from his bag and tossed them in the pot. Then he pulled out several blocks of golden butter.

 

“Is that butter from Phoebus’ cows. If anyone reported you to a priest, you could be crucified and burned. Nails of disparity can bring low anyone short of a god.” Majorian said.

 

Samson took out a pile of radiant multicolored wheat and rabidly crushed it to powder, adding milk and cheese. Then, after he tossed a whole tray of those in an oven, he sat down with us.

 

“Once we eat it all, there won’t be any evidence to convict me. Besides, our goals will put us well into godhood.”

 

“Only if we succeed, perform the ritual perfectly, and wait six years for the power to mature,” Majorian said.

 

I remembered a story I heard about the nails of disparity. “Down South, didn’t the nails of disparity kill a god in human form or the son of a god.”

 

“A man claimed to be the son of Marduk, the jealous, vengeful god.”

 

“Wasn’t that a Mede god,” Samson said.

 

“Who are the Medes?”

 

Majorian chuckled. “They haven’t been important since Iskandar shattered their empire. Just as the Hellenes haven’t been important since we took everything from them.”

 

I smiled at that being a part of an empire that was winning felt good. “No, Marduk wasn’t a Mede god originally. He was the chief god of Chaldea before Sin overthrew him. Perhaps that’s why the new religion has an aversion to sinning. The metanites believed sacrificing blood from an animal was needed to wash away their sins. And after our empire nailed the man who claimed to be the son of Marduk to a cross, Sin was found dead. So cults of the new religion popped up as the Chaldea state crumbled.” Majorian said.

 

Samson shot up and moved in a flash, snatching the rolls out of the oven and pouring a buttery mixture over them before tossing them back in. My mouth watered at seeing the fluffy biscuits, but I dared not snatch one until their buttery glaze had dried. I knew they would be even better then.

 

Samson spoke up as he took his seat. “Before the metanites were under the Akkadian rule, they worshipped Osiris, who took the form of fire when speaking with them. Their name for him was Lord at the time.”

 

“They said his true name was unspeakable, but I think it's embarrassment. Rarely have they been anything but slaves to other nations.” Majorian said.  

 

I had to speak up. “Didn’t we take the Hellen gods and change their names?”

 

“We took them and forced them to be Imperials of Sol Invictus. So before our empire's might, even gods have no choice but to bend or be forgotten.” Majorian said.

 

Samson took the tray out of the oven and tossed us some biscuits before tossing in another tray.

 

“What happened to Osiris? Isn’t he still worshipped?” I asked.

 

“Neither he nor Marduk have been seen since Sin’s death. Only an image of the man who died and returned appears in the visions of prophets anymore. Yet, even when we try to stamp them out and burn them, they speak of their man-god. They’ve even started rumors that an emperor will take up the religion and abandon Sol Invictus. Messengers of this man-god will wear the disc of the son and wings of heaven.” Majorian said in nearly a whisper.  

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