Ren squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep, centering breath, and locked her rising panic inside a small mental box. Screaming about the terrifying, venom-rigged dungeon wasn't going to help her right now. She needed to compartmentalize. She was a professional chef, and chefs thrived in high-pressure, chaotic environments.
She opened her eyes and stood up straight, clapping her hands together. The sound echoed through the scullery, instantly snapping Bia and Las to attention.
"Alright, ladies," Ren announced, her voice adopting the brisk, no-nonsense tone she used to use on her old television set. "If I am going to cook a grand feast for two hundred random beastmen, I cannot just fly blind. I need to know exactly who I am feeding."
Bia tilted her head, her pink scales catching the light. "They are guests, Mistress. They will eat whatever the King provides."
