Aosabaier and Amalaga sat in a lavish hall, surrounded by their servants. On Aosabaier's side stood alluring Drukhari maidservants, while Master Amalaga's attendants were strangely modified Wracks in fully enclosed helmets. They stood by like statues, awaiting orders.
"Master, I don't quite understand. If we don't take their weapons and armor... won't that add more uncertainty to our raid?"
"Oh, so that is what concerns Lord Archon?" Amalaga chuckled. "Not one of those monkeys' weapons can breach the dimensional prison. Even if they break through the outer barrier, so what? They will still be locked inside the cage by the fixed dimensional nails."
As he spoke, Amalaga licked his lips with lingering relish. "Besides, active flesh has more chew to it... it tastes entirely different from livestock raised in captivity. What do you usually eat, my lord?"
"Me?" Aosabaier tilted his head back and pondered for a moment, then told Amalaga about his rival's dining habits. How could he dare reveal his own? He might not even know how he died. "For my main meals, I drink the tears of young animals and have a plate of roasted brains, charred on the outside and tender within. I greatly enjoy the faint trembling when I pry open their skulls. And when I scoop it out spoonful by spoonful, I can feel the body beneath the plate twitching with every movement. It is very entertaining."
"Ah, that certainly is entertaining..." Amalaga nodded approvingly. He had tried Aosabaier's method of dining before. It was an excellent way to prepare a dish: not only was it refreshing and satisfying to eat, it also let one review some basic knowledge about the control regions of different livestock brains. It was truly educational and enjoyable.
A Wrack pushed in a golden dining cart. It was somewhat