“Welcome to my domain. I know your kind isn’t used to such luxury like a proper kitchen -though as petty as this- it must be like walking into a new world. I’ll permit just a little gawking over my fabulous conversion of this dreary cave,” Regis buzzed, flying around the thin seafoam green-skinned goblin. Vraz looked around with tired eyes, before staring directly at the crystal.

“You must be Regis, the dungeon,” Vraz replied. Unlike most goblins he’d run into, this one could talk properly. That makes giving directions much easier. Good, Strum. You may have found me a goblin worth something.

“Yes, I am Regis. You however shall refer to me as Chef. Or Chef Regis, if it pleases you,” Regis glided to the center of the kitchen, flaring his control over the fire-rune to begin heating the stovetop. All of the pots and pans were off of it. One of the first things Regis liked to do with a new employee was to challenge them to cook something with no guidance. Most goblins usually just grabbed a chunk of meat and held it directly over a flame. Still, it was a tradition.

“Sure thing,” Vraz walked around the kitchen, running a hand along the countertop.

“Sure thing, Chef.” Regis amended the goblin. Vraz shrugged and didn’t bother to correct himself. Regis gave an annoyed buzz, and the fire-runes flared with a sudden burst. Vraz cocked an eyebrow at that but continued to casually stroll through the little cave-kitchen. “Fine. If you wish to be an unrespectful prat, then I’ll allow you to display your incompetence. Your first task is to cook something. Anything.”

Vraz looked around the kitchen. “I don’t see anything to cook.”

Regis shook with a light vibration, the crystal’s equivalent of a laugh. “The storehouse is located back there.” He floated towards a small crack in the cave wall near the back of the kitchen.

His domain hadn’t managed to encompass the modest storehouse yet, that expansion was his next major goal. Taking stock of what the kitchen had would become simpler when he could run his senses over the goods. It wasn’t ideal to store his provisions outside of his domain, but the kitchen was far too small to cook in and store food in.

By storing the food further back in the cave, it kept it from spoiling for just a bit longer. Though, Regis desperately wanted a proper place for food storage. So much goes to waste.

Vraz crouched, slipping into the crack. Regis watched the entrance silently. Stuck in his domain. If he left his kitchen Regis would be powerless, intelligent, yes, but once again nothing but a talking crystal that had to be carried. This goblin was taking his sweet time.

Soon the goblin walked out with his hands full. One held a handful of mushrooms. In the other a deformed garlic bulb and a scrawny onion. Regis glided around the goblin as he set the ingredients on a stone countertop. Odd choice. There were a couple of rabbits in there. Unfortunately, it looks like this one wants to waste some of my more precious ingredients. Convincing and training a pair of goblins to plant garlic and onions had taken the good part of a year. Both were a staple in cooking, so it had been well worth the effort even if the produce remained subpar.

Now comes the part where he tries to rip it apart by hand. Regis gave a low hum. Bracing himself to witness the goblin waste his hard-earned produce. Vraz ran a thin finger over the onion, digging his nail into it.

Instead of simply ripping the onion apart, the goblin only broke the first layer of skin, carefully peeling it. Huh? Regis flew closer watching the goblin carefully tend to the produce. Most goblins from this tribe didn’t know root vegetables existed at all, at least before Regis came along. Somehow Vraz knew enough to peel one. Not that the goblin was correctly handling the onion, but still.

With the onion peeled the goblin set it down on the stone countertop, carefully breaking off two cloves of garlic. Vraz looked at him. “Do you have knives?”

“Yes. Right over there, next to the saucepan.” Through a lot of time and effort, Regis had formed a collection of three knives. A paring knife, a fillet knife, and a proper chef’s knife. Anything more specialized than that would have been a wasted effort for now. Manipulating stone in his domain took some time but was substantially easier than manipulating anything metal.

To make something, Regis needed access to its base material. For the metal used in his kitchen equipment, he’d traded quite a few meals to the tribe for scraps leftover from raids.

Vraz walked over and grabbed one of the knives, humorously enough to the crystal, he’d opted to use the fillet knife. The goblin grabbed the onion and held it loosely, cutting the roots off. He proceeded to cut the onion into rings of varying shapes, which irked the dungeon. He needs to learn how to cut an onion - I don’t think whatever he’s about to make demands one sliced that way. And the cuts are atrociously uneven. The goblin’s hand came dangerously close to the blade as Vraz cut. Fillet knives were notoriously sharp, it wouldn’t be the first time a goblin cut their finger off in the dungeon's kitchen.

Goblin-Finger Stew, sadly, would not be a very popular dish when fed to a goblin tribe. They might have few hangups when it came to food, but cannibalism was usually off the table. Usually.

Vraz finished the onion, with his fingers still intact. The goblin put the pile of the roughly cut onion off to the side, replacing it with the mushrooms. More organized than usual. This one is preparing all of its ingredients before cooking. That in particular had been Gikx’s biggest failure to understand. It was much easier to cook something when all of your ingredients were prepared, rather than rushing to prepare ingredients while cooking.

Gikx, the donkey that he was, claimed otherwise. Getting ornery with Regis anytime he tried to correct the goblin on the matter.

Regis mentally winced as the goblin began to whack the fillet knife into the stone countertop as it roughly chopped the mushrooms. For one, it was ruining the fillet knife, which would take quite some effort to rehone the edge. Second, it was banging a knife against the stone countertop, rather than his wooden cutting boards.

You simply can’t have fine possessions in a kitchen staffed by simple-minded goblins. How many times do I need to relearn my lesson?

After ruining the mushrooms, Vraz sighed and left the cut up ingredients on the counter, grabbing the saucepan and ducking back into the storehouse.

The goblin walked back out with a glob of Regis’ cave butter in the pan. Getting the butter had proved particularly difficult, requiring Regis to convince the tribe to raise a goat rather than immediately butchering it for meat. Even now, about once a month, someone in the tribe tried to talk him into letting them murder his cave goat.

Strum was responsible for keeping a steady supply of provisions. The hobgoblin directed the two goblins tending to the farm and goat, which much to Regis’ intense jealousy had never once quit their job. Unlike the many goblins he’d cycled through in the kitchen, Strum found it easy to keep employees. The loyal hobgoblin also had the job responsibility of sourcing new ingredients. But given that Regis hadn’t run a functioning kitchen for about a month, the tribe was reluctant to spend any more resources on anything new.

Vraz put the saucepan on the fire-rune, grabbing the cloves of garlic and roughly chopped onions, and tossed them into the saucepan. A smirk played across the goblin’s face. Cute. He thinks his meager skills are impressive. Little does he know I’ve already spotted several flaws. Still. A step up from some of the awful tripe I’ve seen the other goblins try to cook.

The onions began to brown, and the goblin diligently threw in his mushrooms, carefully crusting them and turning them over. From a technical standpoint, the goblin’s actual cooking was correct. Nothing burned and both the onions and mushrooms were properly caramelized, a feat of patience that Regis was impressed with. The kitchen was flooded with the pleasant yet pungent tang of garlic and onion. Underscored by the earthy quality the mushrooms donated to the dish.

Vraz shoved the pan onto the stone countertop, crossing his arms. “Done!” declared the goblin, a smug smirk now plastered on its face.

“And what do you call this dish?” Regis ran his senses over the mushroom sauté, well aware of its technical name. Still, he liked to see whatever ridiculous names the goblins came up with.

“I’ve made a Rust-Moon tribe delicacy, our pan-seared mushroom surprise. Though you didn’t have the snails we usually use.”

Ah, I forgot this one wasn’t from the Shadow-Axe tribe like the rest of the goblins here. Whatever tribe this goblin came from knew at least a little about cooking. Though the theoretical addition of snails to the recipe was questionable. Not enough to be impressive. But enough to not be a complete disgrace. “You aren’t a complete waste of time. I think we should start with going over your knife skills-”

A large rumble of cheering goblins came from the tunnel leading to the kitchen. Both the crystal and Vraz paused as the cheering and noise came closer. The chief of the Shadow-Axe tribe, wearing his elaborate headdress, walked in with an arm draped over the shoulder of a smirking Gikx. Behind them with wide eyes trailed Regis’ loyal servant, Strum.

“Gikx, goblins who leave my domain in such disgrace are not welcomed back. Turn around and leave. I am tending to my new staff.”

“Dungeon!” called out the tribe chieftain, Rurk. “That is no way to talk to the tribe’s hero!” Rurk pulled his arm off Gikx scrawny shoulder and strode right up to the crimson crystal. “Show some respect.”

“Chief right. Gikx tribe hero,” The scrawny goblin puffed up his chest and gave a nasty smile.

“Excuse me if I don’t think that tossing my equipment on the floor and leaving my kitchen like a child makes a goblin a tribe hero.”

Rurk blinked and looked back at Gikx, who shrugged. “That isn’t why Gikx is a hero. He slew a dire wolf alone. A feat of strength not many goblins could hope to replicate.” What? Strum looked at the crystal with big eyes like a scared deer. The tribe chief leaned in close to Regis. “Now then dungeon. Hearing how you treated my dear friend and new hero this past couple of weeks has left me quite at odds. The tribe is starting to wonder just why we’re keeping a defective dungeon like you around.”

Regis sat. The fire-runes on the stovetop erupted into two balls of dancing flames. The cave gave a small shake. The chief of the Shadow-Axe tribe didn’t so much as blink.

“Now, now. Don’t get angry with me, dungeon. I’m about to offer you a chance to make things right with the tribe’s new hero. You’d like to do that, wouldn’t you?” The crystal didn’t respond, irritation growing as it felt the arrogance and glee radiating off the scrawny little Gikx. “Of course you would, dungeon. Now. Your job is to prepare a meal worthy of Gikx; We need you to cook a feast for the tribe with the dire wolf he slew. Of course, since this is an apology present for our dear hero, you wouldn’t dream of charging the tribe any essence for it, would you?”

“I refuse to cook anything for this poor excuse of a goblin.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll have to finally take care of the tribe’s dungeon problem,” Rurk looked past the crystal at Vraz. “I suppose if we don’t have the dungeon anymore, that means we can finally put you to rest like everyone else in your tribe.”

Vraz grabbed the fillet knife from the counter and his eyes darted about rapidly. Down the hall, the goblin noises were increasing. Regis sat silent, watching the goblin chieftain stare down Vraz with a vicious grin.

“We’ll cook this apology feast. No charge.” Regis conceded, not wanting Vraz’s death on his conscience. He didn’t worry about his own life. As if these petty little creatures pose a real threat to me.

“Gikx expect good food, dungeon. Good food,” The scrawny goblin stomped a petulant foot on the stone floor.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, you have two hours,” Rurk clapped Gikx on the back and led him out, Strum trailed along. The three of them were replaced with a group of goblins hauling the dire wolf corpse.

There was a lot of work to do in two hours. As Regis ran his senses over Vraz, the dungeon questioned if they really could meet the deadline.