Young Squire

Argon and Brolan's adrenaline-fueled laughter fills the forest as they marvel at their monstrous kill. To confirm its death, Argon thrusts his spear through its eye, penetrating deep into its brain. The lifeless body remains still, providing final confirmation of the troll's demise.

Brolan, still high on the thrill of victory, gets to work on the beast. His blade slices through the troll's thick, leathery skin, revealing its insides. The troll's organs are massive, much larger than any creature they've gutted before. Each organ is strange and alien in appearance. The liver is a large, sickly green colour, while the heart is enormous and dark, still slick with the troll's black blood. Argon instructs Brolan to keep the liver and heart. Despite their intimidating size and unusual appearance, they could provide a feast for them.

With the help of their enhanced attributes, Argon and Brolan drag the massive troll carcass to the edge of the forest. Their strength is still humming beneath their skin, the effect of the artefact that amplifies their physical prowess.

Argon swiftly pulls out the massive core from the troll's remains, the luminescent orb pulsing gently in his hand. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tosses it to Brolan. "Feed your artefact," he instructs.

Brolan obediently places the core against his artefact pendant. The pendant glows briefly as it starts to absorb the energy, but the core remains largely intact, the artefact quickly reaching its saturation point. Brolan tosses the core back to Argon, a hint of disappointment on his face.

Argon, nonplussed, rotates the core amongst his three artefacts. The healing and attribute artefacts only consume a small fraction of the core's energy, their glow intensifying momentarily before dimming again. However, when he holds the core against his shield artefact, it greedily absorbs the remaining energy. The artefact pulses brilliantly, hungrily drawing in the core's energy until nothing remains, leaving Argon holding an empty husk. His shield artefact has once again proven its insatiable appetite for power.

Out of the corner of his eye, Argon sees Dolan rushing towards them, trailed by several other men from the village. "Well, well," Argon greets them with a smirk, "I never thought I'd see the day when Dolan could actually be of some use." Despite his sharp words, his tone holds an underlying note of praise. Today, Dolan has proved his worth.

Argon gazes at the shield artefact with a mix of amusement and fascination. "Charles really did feed these things before selling them," he muses aloud, "and this one," he points to the shield artefact, "must have been dangerously low on energy."

Without wasting another moment, Argon takes out the mole rat cores and feeds them to the artefact. It pulses brightly with each core, but the light doesn't remain. It dims quickly, indicating that the artefact is still hungry for more energy.

"I'll have to feed it the remaining troll core back in my room," Argon says, finally pocketing the artefact. "For now, let's head back. It's been a productive day."

With that, Argon and Brolan make their way back towards Dolan's house, leaving the edge of the forest behind. The excitement of the hunt and the satisfaction of a successful outing fill them with a sense of accomplishment, their artefacts glowing gently in the twilight.

As they approach Dolan's house, the tantalising scent of smoking meat wafts towards them. Clearly, Dolan and the other men have been quick to get to work on the day's catch. Given their near-starvation, Argon muses they have a strong incentive to work efficiently. And while he suspects they might be sneaking pieces of meat here and there, he doesn't particularly mind; there's enough to go around.

Entering the house, Argon lays down on the chaise longue while Brolan pulls up a chair. They are tired but satisfied, their day's work evident in the savoury smells permeating the air.

"Feels like we're trying to dam a river with a pebble, doesn't it?" Argon muses, breaking the silence. "No matter how many creatures we hunt, there just never seems to be enough." His voice carries a weary resignation, the exhaustion of their efforts evident. But it also carries a note of determination, a resolve to keep these retards alive. The baron would hold him personally responsible if the village were to fall; it's a source of income for him.

Argon muses aloud, frustration tinting his words, "What's with this drought, anyway? It's not even that hot outside."

Brolan agrees, chuckling slightly as Argon continues, "Why the hell aren't the crops growing? Was Dolan in charge of that too?" Their laughter fills the room, creating a brief respite from the seriousness of their situation.

The jovial moment is interrupted by a knock on the door. Rising from his chair, Brolan walks over to answer it. He returns shortly, telling Argon, "It's the little kid who told us where the chief's house was."

Curiosity piqued, and Argon invites him in. The boy looks a bit nervous but determined, shifting from foot to foot as he clutches something in his hand.

"What do you want, boy? Haven't you been fed? What more can I do for you?" Argon asks, sarcasm threading his words.

To his surprise, the boy stretches out his hand, offering a small bar of soap. "My sister told me to give it to the lord," he says earnestly. Argon is momentarily taken aback. It's an insult, but it also represents a thoughtfulness that leaves him momentarily speechless.

Taken aback, Argon eyes the boy, assessing him anew. "Is your sister Mira?" he asks. The boy nods vigorously, a hopeful look in his eyes. The boy's brown eyes are so earnest it's almost disconcerting. The thought of Mira sending him over with a gift softens Argon's expression. "And what might your name be, lad?" he asks.

"Joren, sir," the boy replies, voice barely more than a whisper.

Without any preamble, Joren blurts out his next request. "I want to be your squire, sir." The declaration is met with incredulous laughter from both Argon and Brolan. They exchange glances, chuckling at the boy's audacity.

Argon wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "I'm not a knight, kid." He explains, trying to sound gentle.

"But I cleaned your spear and gave it to you." Joren's interruption leaves Argon stunned. The boy's words hang in the air, his sincerity rendering Argon speechless. The young boy's earnestness combined with his initiative is a surprising display of courage and ambition, making Argon reconsider the boy's proposition. Argon scrutinises the dejected look on Joren's face, his statement clearly having dashed the boy's hopes. He sighs, feeling a pang of guilt at the child's disappointed expression. Not many things tugged at Argon's heartstrings, but this was one of those rare instances.

"As I told your sister," he says, with a little less severity in his voice, "we're not running a charity here." Joren's face falls even further. Observing the profound sadness on the boy's face, Argon finds himself relenting.

"But," he adds quickly, causing Joren's eyes to snap back to him. "In light of the circumstances and while we await reinforcements, you may assist us here." He glances at Brolan, his words clearly designed to ease his own workload.

"Brolan's been my go-to for everything and frankly, I think he's growing tired of being my errand boy." Brolan opens his mouth to protest, but Argon waves him off, cutting him short.

"Master, I don't mind—"

"Quiet, Brolan," Argon interrupts, not allowing him to finish his sentence. Brolan falls silent, appearing confused at Argon's words. However, Argon pays no mind to his puzzled look, instead turning his attention back to Joren.

"You will be rewarded for your work, boy," he assures the young lad. Joren looks at Argon, his eyes wide and full of gratitude, a hint of his earlier dejection still visible but overshadowed by his renewed hope.

Argon's stern demeanour softens just a fraction as he delivers his first order to the young squire. "First, go fetch your sister and tell her to bring her friend. If she's so concerned about my hygiene, she can attend to it herself."

Argon watches as the boy, Joren, springs off with his new orders. The kid's beaming face triggers a smirk on Argon's face. "Thank you, my lord!" Joren calls out, his voice bouncing with enthusiasm before he disappears out of sight.

Brolan, silent till now, can't hold back his amusement. He turns to Argon with a smirk. "Didn't know you had a fucking heart, Master."

Argon's retort is swift and sharp. "Shut the fuck up, Brolan," he snarls, his eyes flashing with feigned anger. "Why don't you take a leap off a damn cliff?"

Pushing away Brolan's teasing remark, Argon lounges back on the chaise long, stretching his limbs with a grunt. He considers his previous night's exploits with a mix of dissatisfaction and a longing for more.

"Yesterday's fuck wasn't the best," he admits, his voice edged with frustration. "I'm hankering for a bit more...fun." A wicked grin stretches across his face, the prospect of Mira and her friend's impending arrival sparking thrilling anticipation.