At length, the cooking inferno that raged within the Gorging Trough’s kitchens finally began to die down. Ovens went dark and dishes piled high in the sinks, and after a bevy of finishing touches to the various plates, the weary but satisfied crew of the old world’s number-one monster restaurant formed a procession to bring each and every meal to table. The threshold between the kitchen and the dining hall might as well have been a portal to another world, a boundary between restoration and desolation. With the kitchens as Mae’s first priority, lovingly and painstakingly restored to full functionality, the other half of the Gorging Trough created a sharp, even jarring contrast. With sheer walls, inelegant lighting, and only a plain wooden dining table with accompanying chairs as furniture, the dining hall was a shell of its former self. Still, given what had been achieved with the kitchens, Canology Mae was undaunted. It would be only a matter of time before this place regained, or even surpassed, its former glory. Besides, even if it did feel good to have a lavish, opulent mess hall, it was just a building at the end of the day. It was Mae’s staff that made it all possible, and after all that hard work everyone deserved a well-earned chance to kick back, chow down, and make merry. Soon the table groaned beneath the weight of enough pies, pastas, chops, chowders, stews, salads, bread, and barbeque to kill a dragon, let alone a man. Mealtime for Mae and her Maneaters was a time-honored tradition, practically a ritual, and every monster among them was eager to enjoy what they’d been missing since last week’s chaos threw their whole world into disarray. While the cooks seated themselves, expressing excitement and congratulating one another for the job well done, a certain unexpected someone rolled into the Trough bearing gifts. Her blindsight took just a moment to sweep over the contents of the cart, after which she practically jumped for joy. If she had eyes to twinkle or a mouth to smile, Mae would have beamed such a radiant look of gratitude at Tungsten that he’d shine for hours from the afterglow, but with neither the headless horror did her best to show her thanks in other ways. “Right on time!” she crowed, waddling his way with her arms held wide to snap up the metallic skeleton in a blubbery embrace. “Whoo-wie! You’re finer than a frog hair split four ways, jazz man. Thanks a million!” Using her apron she offered as dignified a curtsey as an abomination possibly could. “I figure I don’t got anythin’ worth repayin’ ya with, ‘specially seein’ as ya brought all this out here in person, but if there’s ever anythin’ I can do for ya, be sure to give me a ring!” She took the cart off his hands and toward the dining table, where the staff could distribute the much-needed utensils. If Jazz or Levia chose to stay, so much the merrier! With that, the feast could begin. The Maneaters dug in ravenously, relishing the food all the more for the blood, sweat, and tears poured into it, sometimes literally. And everyone, from the more cheerful, earnest likes of Chuck and Round to the stolid Rib and caustic Tongue, was pleased as punch. Even Tender, paranoid and self-critical to the extreme, was satisfied, and though the sous chef Head did not break character, Mae could tell just how thoroughly he enjoyed what few delicacies he allowed himself. No one, of course, experienced the feast quite like Riny did. Mae’s prisoner had spent the week both learning and teaching, and though she did not excel in her assignments as a kitchen assistant, she’d quickly proved herself invaluable when it came to instructing the Maneaters. She’d doled out her hunting and survival skills as best she could, and though by no means an educator, Riny got the benefit of an eager and patient audience. Her talents allowed the Gorging Trough to better make use of the wilderness on and around the mountain, harvesting even its less-obvious resources for use in the kitchen. At first Riny had naturally been fearful and skeptical, but as time went by and she tasted more of the monsters’ cooking, her worries had begun to melt away. Having subsisted on a blend of misery, want, distrust, isolation for so long, the huntress was quickly getting used to security and plenty. Although, maybe the sort of food Mae and her Maneaters made her wasn’t fit for regular consumption by ordinary humans. It seemed to be having an addictive effect on Riny, and that was hardly the only byproduct of excess consumption. The Overseer made a mental note to deal with it later. Gradually the conversation at the table shifted away from the meal itself and toward the bigger picture. Last week’s efforts to drive away the expedition had been a major highlight for everyone involved, and the knowledge that not every encounter would be fun and games did not dissuade the Maneaters’ interest in further interaction with the outside world. Rumor had it that Infactorium’s takeover of the mountain’s bauxite supply would lead to conflict with not only the nearby kingdom, but other powers more formidable and remote. Murmurs of a storm brewing on the horizon got the chefs wanting to do their part. The discovery of a guidebook for class progression among the guild’s wreckage while cleaning up had ignited a fire of self-discovery within the Maneaters, sparking ideas of what they could become in service to the guild. “I gotta be a Pyromancer!” Roast announced, frothing with flame at the mouth in excitement. “It’s perfect! With a little trainin’, I could take these flames I use for lightin’ the ovens and start lightin’ up enemies instead! Haha!” She punched the empty air, nearly falling over. Rib sniffed. “Whatever you all choose, it’s clear you’ll need someone watching over you. If I were to become a Paladin, I could defend everyone.” “Yeah, yeah. Meanwhile, I’d totally be an Assassin!” Shank declared. “I mean, my chopping and slicing makes the rest of you look like you’re wielding butterknives. Hand me a real dagger and I’m good to go!” With a nod of approval Chuck handed the book to the next girl in line. “I think I have it! It said under ‘Ranger’ that elves are natural archers, and I don’t I look sort of like that girl in the picture? Maybe I could try one of those bow thingies!” Tongue gave her a judgemental glance over the top of the guidebook. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie, you’re far too soft to be shooting people with arrows. Perhaps healing would suit you better.” Chuck scratched her head, an uneasy smile on her face. “Eh...maybe...” She then raised an eyebrow at Tongue. “Wait, what about you, then?” The imperial Maneater gave a haughty laugh. “Why, I would be a Sorceress, of course! I am the only one with the requisite intelligence and refinement, after all.” She turned to pass the guidebook, only to remember that Round sat on her other side, her chair nearly buckling beneath her. She turned up her nose. “Oh, how unfortunate. I don’t suppose there’s a class for falling on people…?” She tittered with laughter, and Round started to tear up, Flank lent a hand. “Don’t listen to her, Round! You can do anything you put your mind to! Take me, for instance. I’m not very big or strong, but I still want to be a Knight!” “Yeah!” Mae herself chimed in. “You could be a mage, or a fencer. Hell, even a dancer!” She threw a fork at Tongue, who jumped in surprise as the utensil bounced off her own stomach. “What’s wrong with bein’ big, anyhow? I’m four times bigger than Round minimum, and I got eight whole levels in Barbarian, so if I’m gonna fight someone, you better bet your britches I’m gonna smash ‘em flat!” Not long after that, Mae received her emergency summons from Faetalis. The headless horror hurriedly excused herself and left the Maneaters to their banter, instead making a beeline for headquarters. She was surprised to see that she was the second to arrive, all things considered. Rather than kneel and risk falling flat on her front, Mae gave a ponderous bow. “Hi-de-ho, Lady Faetalis! Canology Mae of the Gorgin’ Trough, here to satisfy your every need. What can I do ya for?”