Stepping into the canteen, the smell of sweat and armora of cooked meat filled Thomel’s nostrils.

He looked over at the table they normally used but it was absent, not a single one of his friends or anyone else was sitting over there.

Looking around for any displays of red, he only saw a few other gingers and a couple of people clad in blood-stained clothing.

She’d implied she would be with a large group of people, so he then began to look out for the large groups and that’s how he found her.

She was barely visible, squished in between two hulking men with extensive scarring and severe acne.

Striding over to her he paused and instead turned towards the small line. He didn’t feel hungry but it was still a good idea to get some calories in him after everything he’d been through.

After a short wait while he deliberated what to get, his turn came and he spent some credits on getting a couple of slices of lamb and a few leaves of spinach.

Walking over to the group he tried to find a place to sit, he couldn’t sit next to Volly since those spots were already taken and he knew nobody else.

There also weren’t really any spots available, the roughly thirty-strong cohort had already moved a few tables together to form a conglomerate but they were still pressed for space.

An idea came to him, a rather simple yet genius one.

Plopping his tray on the nearest table, he grabbed ahold of it with both hands and started to drag it towards them.

He expected some resistance since the table was made out of solid iron for some stupid or perhaps logical reason but it was actually incredibly easy to pull, like he was tugging a table made out of paper mache.

The scraping sound was certainly caused by metal however and it cut through the ever-present chatter like a bullet through gelo.

Knowing that the majority of people in this room would be looking at him and thinking he was a buffon and also not wanting to interrupt everyone’s peaceful meal, he decided to change his methods.

He’d been pulling it since he still doubted his strength but now he picked it up, it felt practically weightless and with little effort, he turned around and plodded towards the conglomerate.

Placing his table down just on the edge of theirs, the people whose seats were in the way scooted away and dragged the chairs with them. Letting him integrate his table into the mass.

“Thomel?” Asked a bearded old man who looked to be in his late seventies.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Heard a lot about you, take a seat.” The elderly man urged, gesturing at one of the nearby chairs.

Bringing it over Thomel slid it into place beside a blond-haired woman who looked like she’d steal his wallet for the thrill of it and then put it back in his pocket for another shot of adrenaline.

“So what’s happened?” He asked the wizard-looking man.

“Nothing really, just idle chatter while we wait for some others to join us. You haven’t interrupted anything nor missed anything so do not worry.”

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“So what’s the idle chatter about?”

“Everything I guess, depends who you’re chatting with.” The shifting-looking women answered.

And almost like magic, that was when everyone began to talk again and a chorus of voices rang out around the table.

Old conversations got resumed and new ones got started.

“So what do you want to talk about?” She leaned in close to ask him.

“I suppose I want to know what we’re doing.” He earnestly replied, even though he’d come out here to socialise his social battery was already somehow becoming depleted.

“That’s boring. You know this isn’t some tea party, right? We’re trying to get to know each other so we can work closer during this mission.”

“So what is the mission?”

With a disappointed look on her face, she shook her head and stated in a bored tone. “Killing a dragon.”

“I’m sorry killing a dragon?”

“Yeah, a dragon, big flying reptile, typically breathes fire but the one we’re going after is one of the rarer breeds so it’s going to be toxic gas.”

“So I’m guessing we’re going to be wearing hazmat suits then. How are we meant to kill it though?”

“No hazmat suits for us, gas is corrosive, it’ll eat right through the suit. We’re also not going to be the ones actually hunting it so the gas is a non-issue. I don’t really know how we’re going to kill it either to be honest. Maybe a guided missile.” She said with a shrug.

“So what are we meant to be doing?”

“Pretty simple stuff really, just shoot some kobolds and get paid while some other suckers try bringing down the scaly guy.”

“Some kobolds?” Thomel raised his eyebrow and squinted at her.

“Yeah, as in some few hundred.”

“That’s actually less than I thought it would be.” Thomel muttered, sounding and looking puzzled.

“I know right, like why’re they calling in nearly fifty hunters just to kill a couple hundred kobolds. We’re probably going to be going up against a civilisation and not the brutes we know of. At least that’s what Qaual thinks.”

“So magic?”

“Probably, that’s a staple most civilisations employ in their armies and also one of the few things that can actually trump bullets.”

“Huh, kobolds using magic, that’s kind of funny.”

“Kind of stupid is what it is, why serve dragons if you have magic and a functional civilisation of your own?”

“Maybe they’re governed by a conservative party.” Thomel chuckled.

“Apparently not, last expedition that got sent in reported that they were adapting to our tactics and weaponry.”

“How are they still alive then? Wouldn’t they have been bombed by now.”

“I think that’s what this is about, killing off a dragon and exporting its parts at a nice price isn’t the main goal. The real goal is wiping out the majority of the kobolds in advance of a colonisation effort. I mean think about it. What makes more sense, us being hunters? Or us being scouts of a vanguard force, sent in to kill hostile species and bring their bodies back for analysis. That way when the soldiers who aren’t expendable get to the planet they know where to shoot and where not to.”

“The amount of resources that would have to be invested into this is insane.”

“Look around Thomel, do you really think they’d spend all this just to kill some fancy animals.”

“What are you two talking about.” A cheerful voice cut into their conversation.

Turning around in his seat Thome looked up at the ever-smiling face of Axel.

“Not too much.” He answered his friend.

“Good because we’re about to go kill a dinosaur.”