The last vivid memory Heron had of enjoying a meal with a large group of people was at the company dinner on his first day of employment.

  Dewy-eyed as a fresh college graduate, he’d been ecstatic by the invitation after work and was thrilled to be a part of a team of hardworking, respectable men. It was only after dinner was finished and paid for did he realize they were all returning to the office, including him.

  Since that night, either he ate alone in his apartment or ate at company dinners where he played one of the hardworking, respectable men that welcomed new hires onto the team. By then, he was no longer a fresh, dewy-eyed graduate. Just the middle-aged guy who never rejected a request at the office.

  Was it even really living if all he had in his days were working, overtime, and farming games?

  “Open your mouth.”

  “Mm Mn—Mm Nn Nn—MNNN!!”

  Heron blinked at the circus-like scenery that played out before him as he watched Desmonte shove a spoonful of brussel sprouts down Larry’s throat like a war-crime.

  The golden lanterns that hung from the ceiling radiated a gentle glow over the great, rectangular dining table. Warm, steaming, plated dishes rested in the center of the wooden surface and the scents of the freshly cooked meals were soothing and nostalgic. The sound of silverware clinked gently whilst the chatter of voices resonated in the close-knit room.

  While Larry attempted to fight off Desmonte’s brotherly-like assault, on Desmonte’s left side, Zerif flipped to another page of his ‘The History of Magical Essence’ book that rested on the corner of the table—which sat directly across from Heron—as he spooned another bite.

  On Heron’s left, Eugen and Herschel were describing in great detail on how to sauté a specific dish, one that Heron wasn’t familiar with. It sounded like it had to do with a specific type of bird, Kricken or something.

  Heron hadn’t had a dinner like this in many, many years.

  Not alone, in front of his TV. Not amongst co-workers where they all dreaded returning to the office for more overtime. Right now, with Lucifer on his right side, Heron sat on the bench by Eugen and Herschel with Zerif, Desmonte, and Larry directly across from them.

  This was… pretty nice.

  Even if they had all grilled him with questions at the start of dinner like where he was from, how he met his rabbit familiar, and what was up with his weird clothes. Heron had done his best to keep them at bay with vague answers since he couldn’t lie to save his life. Thankfully, they seemed to accept it—maybe it was because he was a provisional citizen and he just wasn’t that interesting.

  He did notice the absence of James and Maxwell, but he hadn’t questioned it; it was more his thing to watch, eat, and smile. Old habits tended to die hard.

  “No, no more. I’m going to choke—“

  “Brussel sprouts are good for you! Have some more.”

  Pass more salmon, please. Lucifer thumped a paw excitedly on the table, its beady, red eyes glistening at Heron.

  A chuckle slipped out of him as Heron forked over several more pieces of sashimi onto Lucifer’s rabbit plate. From the opposite corner of the table, Larry watched with horror.

  “Uh, should you be feeding your rabbit familiar s-salmon!?” Larry gulped, fending off another brussel sprout attack.

  Oh crap. Heron was all for anti-animal abuse, and he was no animal abuser. Surely since Lucifer was a dragon, it could still eat salmon while in rabbit form, right?

  Yes, yes he should. Lucifer inhaled another sashimi. I’m bulking so I can conquer the universe.

  “A rabbit conquering the universe? Is ‘universe’ code for my heart because you are the cutest little thing ever—“ Desmonte yelped, flopping back as a brussel sprout hit his brow. The brussel sprout war resumed.

  “Stop playing with food. You’re not five anymore.” Zerif said flatly as he spooned another mouthful while flipping another page of his book.

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” Desmonte retorted, stabbing a brussel sprout. “Gotta show the new guy that we’re allowed to have fun, unlike Mr. Killjoy over here.”

  Pointing at Heron with the forked 1st degree murdered vegetable, Desmonte grinned. “So, Heron was it? You excited to join us? We’re pretty cool, huh? How’d you like our little welcome party earlier?”

  That was a lot of questions and they bounced off of Heron like rubber bands. First off, he didn’t know if he was excited to be a farmer without knowing the full circumstances of his role; not to mention, he was kind of under probation with the pending community service looming over his head. Second, cool was pretty subjective. The group seemed like a nice bunch, minus the strange occurrences that had happened thus far.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  As for the welcoming dance? All he could do was nod. “Yeah it was uh, quite the welcome?”

  This made Desmonte howl with laughter. “That’s one way to put it. I swear, that wasn’t us. That was mostly James.”

  “Mostly James, but you make us participate.” Larry mumbled then chewing and swallowing.

  “Eugen was the one who suggested that we shouldn’t let James do the ceremony on his own!”

  “Woah, don’t look at me. It just seemed wrong to let James pray to Yel in his cabbage mask while the rest of us messed around.”

  “Regardless,” Herschel cut-in as he set his fork down. “We participate because we can. And we should thank Yel for a bountiful harvest. It makes a pleasant way to end the day, and should there be any new farmers that join our sector at the end of the day, it’s a fine way to show them what our sector is like.”

  “Yeah, a bunch of crazies.” Zerif muttered under his breath, flipping another page.

  “Says the one who’s read the same book hundreds of times.” Desmonte snorted, flicking a piece of food on his plate. “What’s the point in learning about magical essence if you can’t use it?”

  Zerif visibly stiffened and Heron could see his finger twitch on the corner of the page.

  The tension crackled as the quiet stretched. The sound of forks and spoons clinked as everyone in the room seemed to miss their chance in breaking the silence. Eugen cleared his throat, Herschel chewed, Larry glanced nervously from side-to-side, and Desmonte looked haughtily at Zerif as Zerif was frozen stiff.

  Was Zerif not being able to use magic a touchy subject?

  “So… what’s that book about?” Heron interjected, lifting the heavy air.

  Changing the subject would have been too convenient. If Zerif had read the book many times, it was clear that the guy was interested in the topic. And Heron often found that talking about what people liked often brightened their spirits.

  It seemed to do the trick as Zerif appeared to relax as he lifted his gaze, meeting Heron’s sight across the table. Lifting the book up off the table, he showed off the cover and spine that said, ‘The History of Magical Essence’.

  “It’s the seventh edition. Goes over everything you need to know about magical essence when it comes to the history, foundation, and fundamentals.” Zerif cleared his throat, as if it could hide his enthusiasm. Setting the book back down on the dinner table, he continued. “It’s the first book they have you read in The School of Essence. Having an understanding of magical essence provides the baseline and structure prior to the actual guidelines of using magic.”

  Heron nodded, listening thoughtfully. “That explains why it's so thick.” It was basically equivalent in size to one of his college textbooks.

  “Yeah.” Zerif let out a small laugh, his usual serious demeanor seemingly melted away. “Just the history alone takes up more than a third of the book, and it's a summarized version too. The magical scholars who wrote this aren’t even allowed to cover the magical essence laws across the universe; we’re only allowed to write about what’s applicable on our planet. There are intergalactic border laws, and the Dragon’s Order is very strict on maintaining order between planets and keeping us all limited to—“

  “Zerif, it’s rude to discuss politics over a meal.” Herschel interjected, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  Zerif blinked, his expression returning to neutral. “Right. Sorry about that.” He said flatly, eyes returning to the page.

  Heron glanced between Herschel and Zerif before clearing his throat. “So… The School of Essence? Is that like, magic school?”

  Zerif looked up, his face softening. “Yeah… you could call it that. It’s more for regulation than learning though. The purpose of going through the school is to obtain a magic license.”

  “It’s so the king can track magic users and how they can be utilized to serve the kingdom.” Eugen pointed out, setting his cup down.

  “Boring. Who cares about magic and whatever-the-essence? Right Larry?” Desmonte slung an arm over Larry’s shoulders as Larry yelped, splashing water from the cup he was holding.

  “W-Well, it can be interesting.” Larry stammered, glancing at Desmonte to his left.

  Desmonte rolled his eyes, turning his attention to Heron. “Careful if you ask Zerif too many questions, he’ll talk your ear off about this stuff. Dude loves his magic.”

  “What, and you don’t?” Zerif shot back before looking at Heron again. “I don’t mind answering any questions you might have about magical essence.” A pause. “Not that it's any use to us since we’re farmers.” He finished flatly.

  Eugen chuckled. “Yeah I mean, if we could use magic, we wouldn’t be stuck here.”

  “Excuse you, I happen to love being a farmer.” Desmonte boasted, returning to finishing his plate.

  “You’re saying you wouldn’t rather cast magic spells, ride dragons, and travel through the galaxy?”

  “Nah fam, I’m comfy here hoeing my land and workin’ with my hands. Magic makes ya soft.”

  “It does not.”

  “Does too.”

  As Desmonte and Eugen bickered back and forth, Heron turned his attention to Zerif once more. “So about this school… these magic users, who can typically use magic?”

  Heron had an inkling that he had to have been using magic this whole time. Of course he wasn’t aware of a system that was already in place. They called it mana in western magical fantasy words, but magical essence seemed to function the same. From the time since he had isekai’d into this world till now, had he not been able to use ‘magic’, he would have met an ill-fate on that tiny planet. Now he had the chance to learn more about the possibilities of having this power and how it could be used for survival—

  “The royal family, the nobles, the high court, and all their offspring.”

  Oh.

  “What about normal folks?” Heron asked slowly.

  Zerif remained quiet while another vegetable war ensued over the table between Larry, Desmonte, and Eugen while Herschel ate calmly.

  Then he spoke, “Normal people like us don’t get to be compatible with magical essence.” His voice sounded bitter. “Its compatibility. How we’re bred. If your parents have it, you should have it too.” His fist clenched. “There are ways to force compatibility. If you just—“

  Skrrreeee.

  The metallic sound steered Heron and Zerif’s attention towards Herschel who was scraping his plate with his fork, finishing up his meal. Turning his attention towards the young men, he spoke calmly. “No need to mind an old man like me. But some conversations have a time and place that are better suited than over dinner.”

  Zerif turned back to Heron, avoiding his gaze. “As I was saying, not everyone gets to be born lucky.” With that said, Zerif closed his book and stood up from the dinner table. “Thanks for the meal. Be seeing you all.”

  With a swift exit with his unfinished plate, Zerif left with a hurry out of the dining room and into the kitchen, leaving Heron staring after the young lad.

  It seemed like Zerif was going to be a good resource for Heron to talk to when it came to magical essence.

  And what was up with this School of Essence and magical license?