The purple twilight tuber was planted with ceremony in the center of the first rocky planter. The goblin who donated it, now informally called "Hat" by the dwarves due to its grass headwear, supervised the planting with intense seriousness.
The next morning, Kazuto woke to a new smell.
It wasn't earth, or dust, or lizard. It was something rich, savory, and utterly foreign to the Scablands. It smelled like… onions and herbs cooking in butter. His stomach growled violently.
He followed his nose to the central fire pit. A new person was there.
The man was big in a different way than Balmond. He was broad, with a round belly straining against a stained apron that had seen better days. He had a thick black beard braided with bits of twine and a face that was permanently flushed, as if he'd been standing over a hot stove for years. He was humming, stirring a large, blackened pot that definitely hadn't been in Delivery yesterday.
Standing nearby, looking both terrified and fascinated, were Kael and Bren. In the man's massive hand was a wooden spoon, which he was using to gesture like a conductor's baton.
"...you cannot rush the fond!" the big man was declaring. "The onions must weep! They must surrender their sweetness slowly, with respect! What you had yesterday was not stew. It was boiled regret!"
He dipped the spoon, tasted, made a face like he'd bitten a lemon, and threw a pinch of something from a small leather pouch into the pot.
"Who…" Kazuto started.
The man spun around. His eyes, small and bright as blackberries, locked onto Kazuto. "You! You're the one in charge of this culinary disaster zone?"
"I'm Kazuto. And you are?"
"Ban," the man said, thumping his chest with the spoon. "Last cook of the Fallow Hills garrison. Until the Seat's tax collectors decided our grain was theirs and our lives were worthless." He gestured wildly with the spoon at the basin, the dome, the people. "I walked for weeks eating bugs and my own belt! I find this place, this… bubble. I think, 'A miracle!' Then I taste the food." He shuddered dramatically. "A crime! A tragedy of seasoning!"
Mavis drifted over, looking intrigued. "He arrived at first light. The goblins found him collapsed near the spring. He had a pack full of… spices."
"Essentials!" Ban corrected. "A man can live without a sword. He cannot live without salt!" He pointed the spoon at Kazuto. "You! You have magic walls, yes? Can you make me a proper kitchen? Not a fire pit! A workspace! With heat control and ventilation!"
Kazuto blinked. The request was so specific, so mundane amidst the survival crisis, it was almost refreshing. "I… can try?"
"Good! You!" He pointed the spoon at Balmond, who had just walked up, drawn by the smell. "You look like you can lift. There is a flat slab of slate by the eastern wall. Bring it. It will be my grinding stone."
Balmond, who had spent the last week taking orders from Kazuto and Elder Leon, just nodded and trudged off to get the stone.
Ban was a force of nature. In an hour, he had reorganized the entire food area. He directed the construction of a proper hearth with stones. He had Kazuto use his barrier skill to create a smooth, indestructible countertop and a clever chimney flue that vented up through a small, controlled opening in the dome Mavis designed.
His pack, which seemed too small to hold so much, yielded small sacks of salt, dried herbs, wrinkled peppers, and several hard, waxy cheeses.
The stew he served for the midday meal was a revelation. It was the same tubers, the same mushrooms, the same tough rodent meat. But it was… different. Rich, layered with flavor, filling in a way that went beyond the stomach and into the spirit.
People ate in stunned silence, then with happy noises. Doom closed his eyes while chewing. Even the Overseer in its cube pressed against the wall, sniffing the air, a confused longing on its face.
Ban stood watching them eat, arms crossed, a critical frown on his face. "Acceptable. A foundation. The ingredients here are pathetic. We will improve."
After eating, Kazuto felt more energized than he had in days. He approached Ban, who was scrubbing the pot with sand. "Thank you. That was… important."
"Food is morale," Ban stated, as if reciting a law of physics. "A happy people are a productive people. A well-fed people do not argue as much. Now. The problem."
"There are a few."
"The big one: variety. You have tubers, fungus, occasional stringy meat. No grains. No legumes. No greens. No eggs. You are one failed goblin trade away from scurvy." He pointed his scrubber at the newly planted troughs. "Those are a good start. But they are slow. We need faster solutions."
"What do you suggest?"
"The goblins. They know the land. They found me. They find weird roots. We must… broaden their palette. Teach them what to look for. Not just food. Edible weeds, wild garlic, bird eggs, grubs."
"Grubs?" Kazuto made a face.
"Protein! Roasted, they are crunchy. Like nuts!" Ban said, as if it were obvious. "We also need to trap. Fish from the streams. The lizard can only give so much… whatever it is that lizard gives."
As if on cue, Lunch let out a loud baaa from its pen.
"See? It agrees."
Ban's arrival shifted the energy of Delivery. His focus was immediate, tangible problems: hunger and taste. It was a relief from the abstract threats of Seats and domes.
That afternoon, Kazuto, Ban, and Hat the goblin stood just outside the dome's main entrance. Ban had drawn crude pictures in the dirt: a leafy plant, a cluster of nuts, a fish.
"We need these," Ban said, pointing. "Not just roots. These. Understand?"
Hat stared at the pictures, its head tilting. It pointed at the fish, then mimed swimming, then made a gobbling motion. Tasty?
"Yes! Tasty! Very good!" Ban boomed.
Hat's eyes lit up. It snatched the drawing-stick from Ban's hand and added something to the fish picture: a little crown. King of tasty.
Then it scurried off, chittering to its kin on the other side of the barrier.
"Progress," Ban declared.
Back inside, the water problem reared its head again. The bitter well's output was limited. Mavis calculated they had enough for drinking and basic cooking, but not for expanding gardens or proper sanitation.
Kazuto stared at the well's murky water. He'd used his skill to heal, to protect, to build. Could he use it to… clean?
He focused on the water in the well. He imagined the "bitterness" as a hostile element, an impurity. He willed the water to be safe to drink, yes, but also… pure.
« TARGET IDENTIFIED: CONTAMINATED AQUIFER. »
« APPLYING [DIVINE AURA OF SAFETY] TO HYDROLOGICAL CONTAMINANTS. »
A soft gold glow emanated from his hands and washed down into the well. There was no dramatic change. But when Balmond hauled up the next bucket, the water looked… clearer. They all gathered around.
Ban dipped a finger, tasted it. He blinked. He took a small cup, sipped. "The mineral aftertaste is gone. It's just… water. Clean water."
It wasn't a new source. But it was a better one. They could use this for the gardens now.
As the sun set, painting the inside of the dome a soft orange, the community gathered again. The food was better. The water was better. The roof was solid overhead.
Elder Leon watched Ban hold court by the fire, explaining how to properly toast mushrooms to bring out their flavor. He watched the goblins, now with a clear mission, chattering excitedly over their new "tasty picture" quests. He watched Balmond actually smile at something Doom said.
He turned to Kazuto. "A cook," he said, his voice low. "Not a warrior, not a mage. A cook. Sometimes, the strongest shield is a full stomach. The sharpest sword is a spark of joy." He nodded, satisfied. "Your deliveries are… unconventional."
Kazuto looked at Ban, who was now arguing with Mavis about the thermodynamic efficiency of his hearth versus her calculations. He looked at the happy, fed faces. For the first time, it didn't just feel like survival.
It felt like a life.
« NOTICE: SETTLEMENT NECESSITIES UPGRADED. NUTRITIONAL SECURITY AND HYDRATION QUALITY IMPROVED. »
« COMMUNITY ROLE DIVERSIFICATION INCREASING: ADMINISTRATOR, STRATEGIST, GUARDIAN, INSTRUCTOR, CRAFTSMAN, AGRICULTURIST, CULINARY SPECIALIST. »
The voice made it sound like a corporate report. But Kazuto understood. They weren't just a group of refugees anymore. They were developing a society. With all the chaos, arguments, and weirdness that came with it.
He sat back, listening to the friendly bickering, the plans for tomorrow, the contented sounds of a full belly. The dome kept the dangers out. But tonight, it felt like it was also holding the warmth in.