Gorok stopped his workout, sniffing the air.
"MEAT IS MEAT," he roared, his voice shaking loose rocks from the ceiling. "BUT THIS MEAT IS SAD. IT TASTES LIKE DUST AND REGRET. I REQUIRE FRESH MEAT. BLOODY MEAT."
Saburo, seeing his chance to contribute, pushed himself off the wall.
"Indeed!" he declared, his voice full of a dramatic fervor that was completely unearned. "A warrior's soul is fueled by the quality of his sustenance! We require a feast worthy of our station! A banquet of champions!"
I ran a hand over my face.
A mutiny.
I was leading the most powerful invasion force in the prefecture, and I was facing a mutiny over the quality of the snacks.
This was my life now.
"And what do you suggest we do?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. "Order a pizza? The delivery fees to the ninth floor of a heavily fortified dwarven death mountain are probably astronomical."
