A simple basin of milk wouldn't satisfy Luciano, so Ina set out to prepare crispy potato balls for him.
She mashed the steamed potatoes, mixing in seasonings, flour, finely chopped sausages, and green onions to form a large dough ball, which she then shaped into bite-sized rounds.
Ideally, they would be deep-fried in hot oil. However, Ina didn't have enough oil on hand, so she brushed oil onto a stone slab and decided to pan-fry them into potato patties instead.
With a gentle press, each potato ball sizzled as it made contact with the heated stone. Gradually, the patties took on a golden hue, releasing a mouth-watering aroma.
Luciano watched intently, almost hypnotized, as more and more patties piled up on the plate. He wished he could just catch them straight into his mouth. Why bother with the plate when they could go directly into his waiting jaws?
Soon, the plate was brimming, prompting Ina to transfer the golden delights into a large basin. She crowned the mountain of patties with a sprinkle of fresh green onions, signaling their completion.
Holding the basin, Luciano sat to one side, deeply moved, thinking this might be the happiest moment since his birth.
By the time Luciano began his feast, Ahti and the other two dragons, including the silver dragon Claire and red dragon Telyssa, had already left. They had joined Ahti primarily because it was their turn to guard the farmlands of Gamma Village.
After a content Luciano took his leave, Ina arrived at Gamma Village. The villagers were having dinner. Here, both beastmen and humans cooperated, sharing their harvests. Dinner was usually an individual affair, but today, the village had made a large pot of chicken soup after slaughtering two chickens, and everyone could have a bowl.
Ina observed the soup-making process. Their seasonings were basic, primarily rock salt and a few homegrown herbs. The soup had chunks of potatoes and mushrooms, bubbling away and looking quite appetizing. Mira, a young fox girl, noticed Ina and approached her with a smile.
"Would you like to try our chicken soup, Lady Ina?"
"May I try it?" The collaboration of various races was, in fact, built on the foundation of a food shortage. Ina did not have this problem. Hence, she wasn't assigned a job and didn't really belong to this community.
"Claire and Lady Telyssa mentioned that they wouldn't have chicken stew today, so there should be enough soup," Mira replied. She wasn't entirely sure about Ina's standing among the dragons and didn't understand why she wasn't given a specific task. However, today was a rare occasion where everyone shared the chicken stew, and each dragon's wishes should be considered.
Ina understood why Claire and Telyssa declined the occasional delicacy of chicken stew. They had just had beef noodles. Though they were far from full, they wouldn't partake in Gamma Village's limited chicken portion.
"Could I have a small bowl? No meat, just a sip of the soup would suffice." Ina was indeed intrigued by the chicken stew. She wanted to know what else the villagers consumed besides their daily moonlight biscuits.
The pot simmering with chicken was placed in the village center. The fuel was the peeled bark of the ghost thorn vine, which burned for a long time without producing much smoke. Both human and beastmen passed by, occasionally glancing at the bubbling pot, their eyes filled with anticipation, drawn by the savory aroma in the air.
"How often do you all get to enjoy a meaty meal like this?"
Mira pondered, not pinpointing a specific frequency, "Sometimes it's every two or three months. Other times, just a few weeks apart. It depends on the number of chicks hatched and raised during that period. I've never been in charge of poultry, but I know each chicken is precious. They don't eat ghost thorn powder, they feed on grains and grown grass."
"However," Mira's face lit up with joy, "Today, we have two chickens to eat because of an accident yesterday. During the magma rain, the chicken shed wasn't closed properly, and two chickens got out. They were so traumatized that they refused to eat. Chickens in such a state need to be slaughtered quickly, or they'll lose weight rapidly."
Mira seemed so joyful that one might think she had the two chickens to herself. In reality, the entire village would share the bounty. Even with ample potatoes and mushrooms in the stew, it was uncertain if everyone would get a serving.
Gamma Village, within the remnants of the old gods, was of moderate size. Its expansive lands could support the livelihood of nearly a thousand residents.
After a while, the chicken soup was ready. Mira ladled a bowl for Ina, adding a small piece of leg meat and two potato chunks.
Seeing Mira hand over the bowl empty-handed, with no intention of going back for another serving, Ina asked, "What about your portion?"
Mira replied as if it were a matter of course, "The ones who eat first are those heading out to hunt the ghost thorn vine; their job is the most dangerous. Moreover, the dragons accompanying and protecting the team are about to arrive, so they need to eat quickly and depart. After them, it's the elderly and children. Those like me who mostly stay within the village and have less strenuous jobs eat last. A few years ago, I could still blend in with the second group, but I'm not a child anymore."
Saying this, Mira's beautiful red tail moved bashfully.
As expected, Ina observed the robust men and women, armed and ready, approaching the pot first. Most of them scooped potatoes and mushrooms, seldom touching the scanty chicken pieces.
Once they had their bowls filled with the chicken soup filled with mushrooms and potatoes, these individuals moved aside. They took out the palm-sized biscuits that Ina had now become familiar with, dipping them in the chicken soup as they ate.
Because there were so many people, the pot was almost emptied of its soup. Consequently, more water was added and the boiling continued.
"Lady Ina, your soup will get cold soon." Noticing Ina wasn't in a hurry to drink, Mira hurriedly reminded her.
Only then did Ina turn her attention to her bowl. After taking a sip, she found the chicken soup slightly thick due to the potatoes. The seasoning was simple, but the chicken was raised well without any foul taste. The stew was homely, representing the simple and mild deliciousness of everyday meals.
With the fire burning intensely, the added water boiled quickly. The elderly and children stepped forward with their bowls. The chicken had been stewed for a while, becoming quite tender. The richest first pot of chicken soup had been served, but the expressions on their faces were still full of happiness. They cherished every sip of this hard-earned delicacy.
Soon, it was Mira's turn. By the time she approached, there was hardly any meat left in the pot, and even the chunks of mushrooms and potatoes had disappeared. However, due to the extended stewing time, bits of potatoes and strands of meat had settled at the bottom, which Mira found quite satisfying.
In reality, the chicken meat given to the elderly and children might not have been that tasty since it had been stewed for too long and most of its natural flavor had dissipated. Yet, compared to their usual fare, every drop of this chicken soup was especially precious.
Upon closer thought, the proportion of food the villagers were consuming was remarkably unbalanced. They consumed too much ghost thorn vine powder, had too few green vegetables, and fruit was almost non-existent. Because the land was limited, it was primarily used for growing wheat and potatoes. Although they had seeds for vegetables, they didn't grow much.
However, the people here rarely fell ill and appeared to be in excellent health. Even without professional warriors, a team of adults from the village dared to challenge the ghost thorn vine. Ina pondered and concluded that this likely was due to the significant consumption of ghost-thorn vine powder.
Seeing that Ina had been following her through the crowd, Mira, assuming that Ina had something to ask her, quickly came over after serving herself some soup.
As expected, Ina had a question for her: "Would you be willing to exchange other food for the ghost thorn vine powder?"
While dipping a moonlight biscuit into her soup, Mira asked, "What other food?"
In theory, Ina could describe numerous delicacies with splendid flavors and sophisticated ingredients, which could sound exceptionally impressive. However, imagination can never impart flavor to something one has never tasted; these concepts were too foreign for Mira.
So Ina suggested, "How about plain flatbreads, for instance? Those made without a single grain of ghost thorn vine powder. They would be baked on an oiled slab until tender and aromatic on the inside, but crispy and slightly charred on the outside. We could also make versions with sweet fillings, so when you break them open, hot and sweet syrup flows onto your hands."
In Mira's large eyes, longing immediately surfaced. She took a bite of her food, and the bitterness of the moonlight biscuit brought her back to reality.
"How could something like that exist?" she asked, clearly in disbelief.
Ina continued, "Perhaps even better things are possible. Maybe, in the future, you won't have to worry about food, or you could return to your original homeland. You still remember it, don't you?"
Mira paused before answering, "You mean... the Moro Continent?"
"Have your elders told you any stories related to the Moro Continent?" Ina asked nervously, attentively observing the emotions in Mira's eyes.
Mira seemed very calm as she said, "Almost none, so I only know the name."
Could it be? They didn't fervently wish to return to the Moro Continent, but had instead forgotten about it?
"I heard that our ancestors came from there," Mira continued. "Some say the Moro Continent is a thousand times better than this place, and that people there can eat a chicken every day. Our ancestors were exiled here because they made mistakes. But my mother says that's not true. The Moro Continent is not a good place; half of it is ice and the other half is flames. We left to save our lives."
When Mira spoke of this, her emotions didn't fluctuate. It was as if she was talking about something entirely unrelated to her. Ironically, her emotional reaction was much stronger when Ina had given her that apple candy.
Time had passed too long. From the year they first entered the Old God's ruins, this year marked the 326th. If one generation is considered to be twenty years, then the beastmen and humans had seen sixteen generations, and with goblins' shorter lifespans, perhaps they were on their twentieth generation. The Old God's ruins offered no way of recording history, so stories were passed down orally, resulting in countless versions of migration tales.
Only the dragons remembered. If it weren't for the dragons' relentless desire to return to the Moro Continent and their occasional mentions of it, Mira would even doubt the existence of such a foreign land.
Naturally, Mira assumed Ina knew about the Moro Continent and curiously asked, "Can people there really get a chicken to eat every day?"
Ina chose her words carefully: "Some people can eat ten chickens in one day, but many more never taste chicken in their entire lives." There were many things Mira might not understand, so Ina had to use the chicken as a metaphor.
Mira looked down, and Ina felt as if she had shattered a young girl's illusions. Mira softly said, "Then it's better here. At least we all have a chance to eat meat."
"But over there, some people can get ten chickens in one day," Ina reiterated.
Mira smiled, "I feel like I'm the kind who will never taste chicken in my life."
At the end of their conversation, Mira sincerely prayed, "I just hope that the village of Gama can always be like this: no one starves, and we occasionally get to eat meat."
Mira was no ordinary girl; she possessed exceptional bravery. Even though the dragons came to assist the villagers, the sight of their mighty forms, their chilling, sharp claws, and their intimidating vertical pupils always sent shivers down the spines of the locals. Mira was among the few who dared interact with these dragons, and she often communicated with them about various matters.
From these interactions, Mira gleaned information from the dragons. They spoke of a place called the Relics of the Old Gods, a realm on the brink of collapse. The days ahead were going to be increasingly difficult, to the point where one might close their eyes and never witness a new dawn. Returning to their original home, the Moro Continent, seemed to be the only safe option.
Mira kept this to herself, not sharing the dire news even with her own mother or siblings. At times, she optimistically thought that since dragons lived for thousands of years, their definition of "soon" might represent an extensively long period for creatures like her. Perhaps the realm's collapse wouldn't occur in her lifetime and wasn't her concern. But most often, Mira felt that blissful ignorance was a blessing. She continued her daily routine: drying the demon vine, grinding powder, cultivating crops, trading mushrooms, all while unknowingly approaching an inevitable end.
When Ina first met Mira, she saw her as a radiant and cheerful young girl. However, upon getting to know her better, Ina sensed a poetic melancholy in Mira.
Ina thought that even if they had lost their attachment to their homeland, she should bring these people back to the Moro Continent. After all, they hadn't yet seen the sun.