As the sun crested the horizon, Strum and his team freed themselves from the horrid claws of the ancient forest. The night streaked by, leaving them with a constant state of hyper-awareness and a coat of cold sweat at every bump in the night. Confronting the traitorous goblins proved the safest part of the venture. Yrx and Pox took to ambush like a rabbit to trap. At the first sign of trouble, the groveling worms submitted.

The goblin twins forgoed their dagger and club, and they submitted to a grimy black strip of cloth binding their hands.

Their risky venture paid off. In the early morning light, they arrived at a miniature cave system a mere mile from the Shadow-Axe Tribe. With hostages and a safe house, there was a reprieve from the night before. After a brief rest, Strum divided out assignments.

He, along with Gikx, would play guard to the captures. Strum reasoned that the twins might spill whatever information they held about the shaman's plans.

Vraz would happily return to the dungeon's side. A vital role since it meant he'd orchestrate the first true trade deal with the dwarves. It was a position the cook appreciated since he held a vested interest in potential ingredients they might supply.

Out of any of them, Jilde held the most important role. She would communicate between Strum and Regis while Strum had to remain at a distance. With the taint marring him from the foul witch, Strum wished to take no risk. Aside from that, she held the vital job of gathering any information about Mallik that she could discover. Strum hoped that given enough time, the witch's magic would fade. Until then, there was not much to do.

He procured an innate sense of magic with his new body. With that came the quest of if he'd be able to channel mana, or if his perception of magic would increase over time. For now, those musings were pointless. There were more tangible goals to pursue. If he wanted to counter Lord Cygan and prevent the dragon from swallowing them whole, he had to think strategically.

After answering the inevitable questions spawned from their new duties, the goblins dispersed.

Gikx shoved Yrx and Pox deeper into their makeshift headquarters. With a relaxed gait, Strum followed. “Betray tribe?!” Gikx flung his arms out, then lashed a pointed foot into Yrx's rear. Witnessing the two of them donning Lord Cygan's uniform had stoked a fire of hate within him. Now given the chance to dish out abuse, Gikx took full advantage. Strum sighed, placing a hand on the hero's wiry shoulder.

"No uh, need for that. It's not like the whole thing is their plan." Seeing the goblin frown, he continued. "We'll uh, figure out what Mallik's up to. You've done well. Leave the rest in my hands." Gikx bite his lip, then dished out a glare at the prisoners, before dropping some of his anger. No telling how long it'd last. Nothing ever was easy.

“There are a plethora of ways in which baking differs from cooking.” Regis hummed, drifting by Vraz’s shoulder. His sous-chef struggled to manage the brown powder which came with the latest shipment. A prize known to the chef as flour. It currently dusted half of the countertops in the kitchen and coated the goblin's face and clothes. Regis had eagerly requested the powder in the trade with the dwarves. While it came at premium cost, he paid the price without hesitation. Through crafting baked goods, their products could return to the suppliers for sale. This would net compounding profits since dwarven customers could afford to pay more than goblins.

Through continued sales to the Shadow-Axe tribe, Regis amassed enough to complete his stove project. Finally, a wood-fired oven graced the kitchen. A simple domelike structure whose opening was lined with limestone brick. A bundle of wood rested within, shoved into the corner of the flat surface. Through Regis' connection to fire mana, he could control the heat and flames, overcoming the lack of his employee's skill with the new device.

This would minimize the cost of premium resources it took to learn baking techniques.

Baking required precision, especially with a wood-fired oven. The fire within used indirect heat accumulated in the stone to cook.

Vraz let out an irritable grunt then threw the ball of dough against the stone counter. The lank goblin laced his fingers and pushed outward, sneering at the deformed ball. "Hate this. Baking makes no sense." His pointed chin tilted upward. Without looking at Regis, he blotted the sweat from his forehead. "I'm done."

“It is still under-kneaded. Promptly return to your labors. When it is complete, it will consist of an elastic texture. When prodded it will return to its original shape. I'm disappointed, it should be quite trivial for someone of your standing to deduce when it is complete.

“It’s damn near the same. And the last batch you allowed me to waste fifteen minutes playing with dough." Vraz narrowed his eyes and shot daggers at the deformed flour-ball on the table. His hand itched towards a nearby knife.

“That attempt was catastrophic, aside from your failure to realize you had kneaded enough, you added far too much salt and flour. Contrasting that, this 'dough' lacks sufficient flour or satisfactory salt. It will not meet selling standards. To dwarves, anyway.” However, ruined products could be sold to goblins. Those savages consumed any scrap thrown their direction. The novelty of bread alone left their foolish minds spinning. A whole loaf lasted quite some time for a goblin, and they were not picky customers. “To bake is to embrace precise measurement and ratios. Since we lack a luxury of time to wait for you to form a proper instinct, you must strive for better. Be more diligent.”

Regis needed to push his employee to reach new heights. To meet the demands of this new market and ensure growth of their influence, Vraz needed to work harder. With an expansion, the dungeon felt confident in handling the Dark Lord situation. There was no time to bottleneck now. In the culinary world, some compared cooking to an art, and called baking a science. Those who uttered such trite prattle were fools. Techniques in baking were as essential as any other culinary tool. Yet he couldn’t make Vraz see that.

The cook sighed and shook his head. Turning away from the incomplete dough. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Eager to quit? I advise you take a protracted journey. See that once you've returned to my domain that you've set your heart in stone. Don’t show your face until you’re willing to learn.” His fire runes flared to life as agitation sparked their volatile power. Vraz didn’t bother a response, leaving with a casual wave.

That left him alone with the foolish hobgoblin, who promptly ceased cleaning dishes. The toad’s bulging eyes landed on the crystal. “Wort feed pet?” his grubby finger pointed towards a clay jar.

The ‘pet’ in this case referred to the sourdough starter. One mention from Regis claiming the yeast inside was alive convinced the oaf it was the dungeon’s pet. To his agitation, the toad approximation of the jar was not easily deniable. His starter contained a mixture of equal parts flour and water. Through feeding it a continuous stream of that mix, the yeast grew and thrived. Sourdough starters formed a staple in any bakery, and each possessed a unique flavor profile courtesy of its microbial composition. Though, if he tried to explain such things to the toad, his head would pop and leave a horrid mess.

Wort took that information in stride and delighted in the cultivation of the starter. Lately, the toad grasped at any excuse, to remain in the kitchen. From washing dishes to cleaning counters. All of it was a thin disguise to mask his real goal to consume whatever scraps he could.

The toad suffered from a lack of direction given the absence of Strum. Still, the toad's obsession freed Vraz to spend time with more important matters. So for now Regis tolerated the behavior. "You may feed it. That is acceptable."

For a normal bakery, it took variable time for sourdough to ripen into a proper leavening agent. Regis discovered a cheat to bypass the natural wait. Using his control over things within his domain, he found he could control and manipulate lesser lifeforms like yeast. An ability important to normal dungeons, yet in his case quite convenient. With enough essence, he could bend lesser lifeforms to his will. The larger an attachment to him and his domain, the more that could be accomplished through mana and willpower.

Few things were less intelligent than yeast and bacteria. Since this culture spawned in his domain, transforming and exerting control over it proved simple. He expedited its lifecycle and development.

There were some uncomfortable questions left from this act, such as how much he could forcibly alter the biology of a goblin. But such thoughts disgusted him. Aside from a loyal servant wishing to deepen their bond, he refused to press his will on most creatures in that way. Such an act was unworthy.

However, single-celled organisms were another story.

Wort plopped the flour into the jar then poured water. Regis admitted a tiny bit of respect for the hobgoblin’s ability to discern volume. The toad replicated instructions with an unexpected level of precision.

With the starter fed, and his employee gone, Regis listlessly drifted to his pantry to do a cursory check of the ingredients.

While he didn’t have to physically be in the same room as the ingredients, the simple familiarity of the act brought him peace.

Five days had passed since Strum brought the knowledge of the Dark Lord. Since that revelation, Regis went into overdrive to pursue the oven project. Baking would expedite their growth with its provided options. An unimaginable threat that endangered the future of his restaurant was unacceptable. There was no perfect solution to the problem he could see, other than an accumulation of more power.

In the worst case, they’d relocate. He loathed to move after investing so much into this location, yet slavery to an all-too-powerful being left him with few options. Gathering enough essence now ensured he wouldn't have to start from nothing.

As far as he knew, so far Yrx and Pox refused to provide any useful information. Jilde did not discover any tangible changes to the shaman’s behavior. Using that goblin woman as a go-between irritated him, but there were few options. Until Strum could maintain their bond, then they could not communicate directly. It also prevented a concrete diagnosis of the mana signature attached to his employee, but Regis suspected it to be a ward.

Waiting frustrated him. Regis finished his mental record-keeping then floated back into the kitchen.

The unexpected sight of Worts hands dug into the leftover ball of dough greeted the crystal. Regis suppressed the gut reaction to admonish and yell at the oaf as he saw a flicker of effort and technique. Wort kneaded the dough with surprising skill, his hands stretched and transformed it effortlessly. Where Vraz’s weak frame made it difficult to knead, the hobgoblin’s bulk and leverage let him move without exhaustion. What took Vraz ten minutes to accomplish, Wort finished in half the time.

With a grunt of effort, he shaped the dough into a ball, then slammed it into an oiled bowl, throwing a cloth on top.

“What possessed you to do that?” By some incomprehensible stroke of luck, the dough was near-optimal consistency when Wort set it aside to proof. Regis floated before the two bulging eyes of the hobgoblin. Wort scratched his head.

“Vraz bad with ball. Wort want play with ball. Wort play ball. Easy.” The hobgoblin belched, sitting down on the ground next to the counter and folding a hand over its stomach.

“Do you know what the next step in the sequence is?”

“Se-qu-ence?”

“What comes next when the… ‘ball’ is done?” Regis leveled with the idiot. Curiosity ignited within. This oaf surely didn’t know more. He found it inconceivable that a creature incapable of understanding advanced vernacular had picked up on instructions not explicitly given to it.

“Play ball more. Leave ball. Ball become big. Wort cut ball top. Put in hot place.”

“…” The dungeon floated in place as it processed that this creature discovered how to bake bread indirectly. A feat that should be impossible.

“Sometimes hot place too hot. Wort check. Start hot place soon. Small nap first.” Wort grumbled, closing his heavy lids. Soon a bout of snores erupted from the overgrown blob. Regis drifted away from the hobgoblin.

I’ll let this play out. It’s a fluke. Condemned for failure. Besides, Vraz already wasted this dough. No harm witnessing how horribly that oaf can fuck up.