Famished

As Argon and Brolan make themselves comfortable within the confines of the chief's house, the tangy scent of smoked meat continues to permeate the air from outside, where the remaining men toil away at the monstrous mass of troll flesh. They work systematically, a small team handling each section, ensuring that none of it goes to waste.

It's been about an hour when Dolan returns, looking visibly more composed than when he had left, bringing a large bag of dried meats and a large core. Flanking him are two figures, a stark contrast to his gruff exterior - two young women dressed in simple tunics and shawls. Despite their noticeably thin frames, a testament to the hardship the village has been enduring, a certain attractiveness shines through.

"This is Elna," Dolan introduces the first girl, a petite young woman with tousled auburn hair that falls around her shoulders. Her eyes, a bright green, are nervous but determined. Her high cheekbones and pointed chin give her an air of elven elegance despite her human origin.

"And this is Mira," he motions towards the other girl, slightly taller and broader, with a cascade of dark, curly hair and eyes the colour of rich chocolate. There's a resilience about her that's apparent even in her subdued demeanour, her features more rounded but no less beautiful, giving her a classic, earthy appeal.

"Distributed the meat and oats among the villagers, my lord and here's the troll core," Dolan reports.

With an abrupt wave of his hand, Argon dismisses Dolan, gesturing towards the heavy sack of smoked meat that the village chief had been holding onto. "Leave that on the table and put the core in my room. When they're done smoking the rest, go get more."

Dolan gives a curt nod before setting the bag down, scurrying upstairs and making a quick exit, leaving Argon, Brolan and the two girls alone in the room. The air is thick with the rich aroma of smoked meat, and Argon can't help but relish it.

Wasting no further time, Argon and Brolan, free of their cumbersome helmets now, eagerly descend upon the pile of dried meat. They tear into it with an animalistic fervour that speaks volumes of their hunger; the men needed to sustain their mass, the tough, smoky strips of the meat offering them a much-needed protein to supplement their power.

The girls, Elna and Mira, continue to stand awkwardly in the room, their eyes wandering nervously between the two men and the food.

The room falls into a strange silence, save for the sounds of Argon and Brolan's enthusiastic eating. It's a crude sight, to be sure, but there's also a strange sense of normality to it - a simple meal shared in the aftermath of a long, gruelling day.

Argon glances at the two women, his gaze as piercing as a falcon's. Elna and Mira are timid, their skinny frames too frail for their young age. Argon grunts at them, nudging his head to the vacant seats across the table, "Come. Sit."

The girls, slightly taken aback, exchange quick glances before cautiously moving to sit down on the offered seats, their movements almost fragile in their hesitance. They sit there silently, their hands neatly folded in their laps. The sight of the feast in front of them doesn't change their demeanour. Despite the tantalizing smell wafting from the smoked meats, they make no move to partake, their eyes fixed on the worn wooden table.

After several minutes, Argon, having eaten his fill, slows down, looking at the girls once more. His voice, still harsh but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity, fills the room. "Are you not hungry?" He pauses, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Did Dolan feed you too well already?" The question echoes in the room, a stark contrast to the previous silence, leaving an unsaid challenge hanging in the air.

Argon's gaze snaps to Elna. "I am hungry, Sir", she meekly admits her hunger. His voice, momentarily softened, permits her to eat. "Go on, then," he says, shifting his attention to the other girl, Mira.

The silence from Mira is palpable, a tangible entity hanging between her and Argon. His question is met with nothing but her quiet defiance. Growing impatient with the silent act, Argon's voice spikes in annoyance, "Why the fuck are you here if you're just going to sulk?"

The room seems to hold its breath for Mira's response, the tension brewing like a storm. When she finally speaks, her voice is steady despite her quietness, "I was told...Dolan said you would kill my brother if I refused to come."

Her words hang in the air, a poignant echo in the silence that follows. Argon's gaze is locked onto Mira's defiant stare, his face unreadable.

Argon's features harden, his brows furrowing at Mira's statement. A bitter laugh escapes him as he retorts, "Who the hell do you think I am, girl? I ain't here to rape or murder anyone. Now, get lost."

Mira gets up to leave, she accepts his earlier offer and reaches out for a handful of the smoked meat, but Argon is faster. His hand shoots out, swatting her slender wrist away with an unexpected gentleness that does little to hide his authority.

"Oh no, no, no... that's not how this works," Argon warns her, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His voice is harsh, devoid of sympathy,

"But me and my brother, we... we'll starve. Our parents abandoned us," Mira pleads, her voice trembling with pent-up fear and desperation. Despite her efforts to keep strong, her eyes betray her, welling up with unshed tears. Argon simply looks at her, the harsh lines of his face not softening.

"You want food, you'll earn it. This isn't charity, nothing in life is free."

The atmosphere in the room grows heavier as Mira's words slice through the air like a knife. Her voice quivers, but there's a certain steeliness in her gaze, a clear defiance that tells Argon and Brolan that she isn't one to back down easily.

"I won't whore myself out for a bit of fucking dried meat," she spits out, the words full of bitter resentment and raw desperation. Her hand clenches into a fist, nails digging into her palm as she glares defiantly at the two men.

Her statement hangs in the air, and a bold challenge is thrown at Argon and Brolan. It's a brave act, especially in the face of such power and danger, but there's something about her spirit, her unwavering determination, that demands respect. Argon's lips twitch into a grin, his eyes sparkling with intrigue as he studies the defiant young woman before him.

"Aha! So we've established my proposal is sound in principle. Now we're just haggling over price."

Mira's gaze flicks towards the gold coins in Argon's hand, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. The gleaming coins hold the promise of food and warmth, a chance to ease the gnawing hunger that plagues her and her brother daily. Her face reddens, a mix of anger and embarrassment but also, strangely, relief.

As she sits back down, Argon bursts into hearty laughter. "Thank goodness you were my preferred girl," he booms, his deep voice echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in. "I would've hated to have to kill you and your brother," he adds nonchalantly, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

Only joking, he quickly reassures her, his laughter becoming even louder. But his words, laced with a lethal threat, linger in the air, a reminder of the power he wields and the danger he represents. Brolan joins in, his laughter mixing with Argon's, while Mira and Elna eat in silence, their eyes focused on the coins that lay on the table.

Between mouthfuls of dried meat, Argon turns to Brolan, an amused glint in his eyes. "Fuck me, I'm having a grand old time," he declares, laughter creeping into his voice. His words hang in the air, heavy with arrogance and disdain. "These weak pissants have made it too damn easy."

Brolan grins, his gaze mirroring Argons. "That they have, boss. That they fucking have," he agrees, his eyes flickering briefly towards the silent girls at the table.

Switching gears, Argon frowns slightly, his brows furrowing in thought. "Damn Eldrige and his slow-as-shit soldiers," he growls, his jovial mood fading. "The Baron will be thrilled with us, no thanks to those lazy bastards."

Brolan snorts, leaning back in his chair. "Fuck knows why they're taking so long," he says dismissively. "We'd still be wanking around in the forest if we'd waited for them."

Argon nods in agreement, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "We've done all the work here, so what's left to do but wait?" he suggests. "We can let those soldiers deal with the rest of this shit once they get here."

A smirk tugs at Brolan's lips. "Sounds like a plan, boss. It's about time we left this godforsaken dump," he concludes, pushing away from the table. The promise of rest - and escape from this pitiful village - adds a spring to his step.

They both laugh, the sound of it echoing through the room, as the girls sit in silence, watching them with wide eyes. Their future hangs in the balance, left at the mercy of these brutal and callous men.