Nobody was seriously hurt, so we all headed for the village. And just like they promised before I left, there was some magnificent food waiting. That’s Rigurd for you. The ultimate bureaucrat. His organization skills were nuts.
I still didn’t feel hungry, but I had been looking forward to this since morning. It had been a physically active day, and between that and the test of my taste sense coming up, I was champing at the bit.
And here it came. That first forkful of meat.
It’s so gooooood!!
I thought I might cry.
The flavoring was a worry for me earlier, but they had taken the juice from assorted types of fruit to make a sauce. The promotion to hobgoblin status must’ve upgraded their palates, too, and they were now experimenting with all sorts of new recipes.
This magical beast was cowdeer, right? Well cooked, it was tasty enough even without any extra spices or such, but adding some fruit to the mix provided a very different—and very engaging—sensation to my taste buds. It did wonders to mask the gamy flavor and tie a neat little bow over the whole package.
That was how Lilina, the goblin lord overseeing our food stocks, and Haruna, the proud cook, explained it. I followed their suggestions as I cleaned my plate, taking in the experience I’d missed.
Speaking of which, they were pretty ecstatic when I gave them the salt I had collected. They knew what it was, I guess, but had given up on securing any because it was too expensive.
I suppose, to a goblin race mainly preoccupied with survival up to now, seeking out new flavorings wasn’t too high a priority. They got the requisite salt in their diet from the flesh and blood of their prey, and beyond that, they didn’t think deeply about it.
I advised them not to go overboard with their salt intake, just in case. Not that I was sure monsters could suffer from high blood pressure in the first place.
The pink-haired ogre made a surprising contribution, too. She knew a great deal about herbs and aromatics and the like, and she brought in a few wild grasses we could use to hide the meat’s more unpleasant odors. “I hope this will atone for our rudeness a little,” she said as she helped collect the ingredients. She was a high-level creature, and she worked briskly, putting the freshly evolved hobgoblins to shame.
The other ogress—the one with purple hair—was just eating along with the others, though. Perhaps female ogres weren’t necessarily banished to the kitchen in their society. If it was this delicious, I wasn’t going to care about genders.
It wasn’t long before pink-hair was getting along swimmingly with the rest of the goblinas in the village. They’d try to learn as much as they could from her, I was sure. It was nice to have another positive influence around town.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. The roast-meat feast I was so looking forward to went off without a hitch, and our new companions were all too happy to join us as we drank through the evening.