The meat rested on his plate, towering higher than Florian had ever imagined. Anna peered over a similar tower with an expectant look. “Is it that good?”

“It’s meat, Florian! Of course it’s good! Maybe not as much as a steak or fish, but considered that these things are practically everywhere, I’d give it nine stars,” Anna exclaimed, her face contorted in mock outrage.

Florian laughed. Determined, Florian jabbed his fork into the minced Hellwolf, finding it to have a tough texture much like beef might. It looked the same and felt the same, and Florian hoped that trend would continue to its taste.

He shook off his apprehension. And then he took his first bite. His tastebuds metaphorically exploded in all kinds of delicious ways. This didn’t taste like beef at all. Instead, maybe it was closer to some kind of chicken pumped full of other chickens. He’d never felt such a rich, meaty flavor before. Energy flooded his weary body.

Digging in, Florian ignored Anna’s chuckles. It took him approximately half of the stuff to slow down now that his stomach was less starved and more in the realm of reason. Still, the taste was every bit as good as before, so it wasn’t his hunger that drove him to that reaction. “You said this wasn’t better than beef?”

“It’s better than stale bread and canned meat, though, right?”

Florian shook his head. That didn’t add up at all. And then, all at once, it did. He felt a fleck of mana in the meat as he took it into his mouth. Which was insane, because he normally couldn’t feel it at all if he wasn’t absolutely focused. Slowly but surely, he felt more and more mana in the meat, no doubt fueling the meat’s incredible taste. If something didn’t make sense, magic was a fine culprit in recent days.

Enjoying the rest of his meal and hearing about how Hornbeck had apparently broken wind mid-lecture on the drill grounds the other day. Of course, Anna assured him that the Commander would deny any such accusations and instead put any accuser on night watch. A democracy indeed. Other gossip followed, but it was mostly about people that Florian hadn’t yet met. Anna assured him that it was only a matter of time until he did, and that gossip was every bit as important a weapon as a spear or mace.

In between anecdotes, Florian examined the tent around him. It was massive, resembling one of those traveling circus tents that used to go from town to town before Worldbreak. Evidently, Leeds had run out of buildings to use, stuffing up to forty or fifty people in the space at once. Florian was thankful it was just barely turning spring; were it any hotter, he doubted he’d survive amongst the throng of people without air conditioning. Old habits died hard, Florian decided.

Hornbeck ate at some table that was fancier and shorter than the rest, with a few of the older-looking Warriors sitting beside him. Some kind of officer corps, then, even if it was informal. They ate meat – actual chicken – and what looked to be fresh bread, though Florian couldn’t be sure from that distance. It was a meal theoretically leagues better than what the common grunt was eating, but Florian wouldn’t trade this new culinary discovery for the world.

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“Jeeze, you really liked it that much?” Anna asked, watching him eye his plate. “Unfortunately, there’s no more where that came from tonight. I’ve got to take the rest of it back with me to my family,” she patted the hunk of meat off to her side. “If you want more tomorrow, you’ll need to go out and kill a few of those wolves on your own.”

Florian nodded like a bobblehead. That was a plan, indeed. Anna stood to leave then, making sure to let him know that he owed her for the meat and that she expected interest. Florian cursed; he’d thought that he was finally free of interest payments. Alas, nothing in the world ever seemed to turn out positively for Team Florian.

It didn’t take long for Florian to follow Anna’s example. As the evening turned to night, more and more men and women entered the tent, a mix of those coming to eat before they began their night shift and those looking for a quick dinner. The barracks would be as empty as they got, then. That sounded perfect; Florian hadn’t had a chance to meditate with mana for a good few days now, and he wanted to get stronger. No, he needed to get stronger.

Navigating the maze of tents that was the interior of Leeds Castle, Florian was fortunate that the barracks was one of the few stone-and-mortar buildings. It made it distinct from the rest, and it was probably a bit more comfortable to be in, anyways. True to his prediction, just a few men were inside. A few were hunched around a stool, obviously playing some kind of card game. Another couple were arguing about which of them owed the other. One of them was reading in the corner, occasionally sending a death-glare to the arguing pair to no avail.

Well, it was as quiet as it would get. Florian settled into his bunk, taking off his light armor and setting down old Bludgeon gently beside the bed. It was just as well that he didn’t need to fight that day; he still needed to go see about fixing the poor thing. Sighing, Florian deemed that a worry for Tomorrow Florian.

Instead, Florian settled into the crisscross applesauce, focusing on sensing the mana in each breath. As always, it took some time to settle into that frame of mind, but when he did, it was so rewarding. That energy drink feeling hit like a truck, and for a blissful moment, Florian felt like he could take on the world. And then it faded, Florian cycling the mana through his body with each intake and moving it back out with every outtake.

Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. And then forty. Florian crushed his headache, reaching a full forty-one minutes according to the clock that hung over the door to the barracks. Breathing a sigh of relief, Florian had to wonder to himself; he hadn’t meditated or exercised his magic overmuch in the days since leaving the vineyard. And yet, he had managed a full minute longer than before, a meteoric improvement considering that if this went on for a week, he’d outpace the improvements he’d made over the past three or four months.

What had he done differently?

Lightning struck within the confines of Florian’s aching mind. The morsels of mana that he had ingested earlier that night, the taste of the Hellwolf far tastier than anything else he’d ever eaten. Now that he thought about it, that feeling of energy he’d gotten while eating it was so very similar to the feeling he got when he started meditating. That was it. It was the food!