I find myself wandering through cold, metallic halls, the rigid, sterile design unmistakably Imperial. The smooth walls gleam under the harsh glow of overhead lights, casting long, creeping shadows that seem to reach for me. Each step I take echoes in the oppressive silence, the distant hum of machinery a constant, haunting reminder of the ship's vast and hollow presence.

"You are but a shadow of your former self," the 12th Brother's voice slithers into my mind, sharp and biting. "Weak. Predictable. It's your fault she died. You let her in."

My master's voice follows closely behind, steady and grounding. "No, Ryu. Letting people in is not weakness. It's what gives you strength."

The 12th Brother's taunts slice through the calm, his voice thick with venom. "You let your emotions guide you, and they led you straight to failure. You should've kept her at arm's length."

"Emotions are not the enemy," my master counters gently. "They are a part of you, Ryu. A part of what makes you strong."

The hallway begins to tremble, the walls vibrating with the rising storm inside me. Panels rip away from the ceiling, sparks bursting from severed wires. The ship seems to reflect my inner turmoil, the guilt and anger swirling violently within.

"You let her die," the 12th Brother hisses. "All because you allowed yourself to care. She's gone because you were too weak to protect her."

"Death is not the end," my master's voice breaks through the darkness, urging me toward understanding. "It is a natural part of life, of the Force. It's not about preventing it but accepting it."

The walls begin to buckle, torn apart by the raw energy of my grief and anger. The ship groans under the pressure, the hallway convulsing as if to match my emotions. My vision blurs, overtaken by the rising storm of guilt and helplessness.

"Your care for her is what destroyed you," the 12th Brother growls, his words twisting deeper into my mind. "Sentimentality has made you soft. You are nothing."

"Sentimentality doesn't weaken you," my master's voice counters, unwavering. "It's your humanity. It's what gives you balance, Ryu. Don't fear it. Use it."

Debris begins to float around me, caught in the cyclone of emotions I can no longer control. Shattered panels, metal shards, and severed wires swirl through the air, reflecting the chaos in my heart. I try to steady myself, but every word from the 12th Brother presses deeper, stoking the fire of my rage.

"You are weak because you cared!" the 12th Brother shouts, his voice growing louder. "You let her die because you weren't strong enough to let go."

"You must find peace, Ryu," my master urges, his voice calm but firm. "You didn't fail her. Death is a part of the Force—it's not something you could have stopped."

The destruction intensifies, the storm of my emotions spiraling out of control. I can feel the power of the Force coursing through me, wild and untamed, tearing everything apart. My heart pounds, a symphony of rage and sorrow.

"You failed her!" the 12th Brother's voice echoes, triumphant, as if relishing in my pain.

"Don't let him control you," my master pleads. "Find your balance. Your center."

And then, through the maelstrom, I hear it—Lyra's voice, soft and soothing. "Ryu," she calls, a quiet warmth cutting through the chaos. "This isn't your fault."

The storm comes to a jolted halt, jagged pieces of metal, broken conduits, and shattered shards of glass now suspended in the air around me as if caught in an invisible web. They hover, weightless, like debris frozen in time. The dim lights of the Imperial ship flicker as the chaos halts. Just as sudden the destruction begins to fall, clattering to the ground with a series of dull, metallic thuds. The ship groans under the weight of its own collapse, but the sound fades as stillness settles around me.

I collapse to my knees, my breath shaky and uneven. The cold, metallic halls dissolve around me and I jolt awake, gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat. My heart slams against my ribs, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to me like a thick fog. I sit up in the bed, the blankets tangled around me. My breath is shaky, uneven. The voices of the 12th Brother and my master still echo faintly in my ears.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

The dim light from a flickering candle casts long shadows against the stone walls, giving the room a quiet, rustic charm. But I can't shake the feeling that I brought the chaos with me. The storm inside me has bled into the real world.

Then I hear her voice—Lyra. Soft and soothing, wrapping around me like a blanket, calming the storm. "Ryu, this isn't your fault. You didn't fail me." Her words, spoken with such gentleness, pierce through the storm, quieting the chaos within.

I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of wood and earth settle my nerves. I scan the room, trying to ground myself. The candlelight flickers gently, casting those long, wavering shadows. But something feels... off.

Then I notice the bedroom is a mess. Furniture is overturned, objects are scattered across the wooden floor—like they were caught in a violent storm. The chair lies on its side, the table has been shoved against the wall, and small, delicate trinkets are shattered in pieces.

I pause, realization dawning slowly. The mess wasn't caused by some external force. It was me. The power inside me, still raw and unchecked, had lashed out in my sleep. The dream... the storm... it followed me here.

I run a hand through my damp hair, wiping away the sweat, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I silently hope no one heard the chaos or noticed the disturbance. My head feels heavy, the voices of the 12th Brother and my master still echoing faintly in my ears. But it's gone now, the cold metallic halls replaced by this quiet, charming bedroom. I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of wood and earth fill my lungs, trying to shake off the last vestiges of the dream.

I close my eyes, steadying my breath. The raw power I had felt in the dream... it hasn't fully left me. I can still sense it coursing just beneath the surface, waiting to be controlled. I flex my fingers, feeling the lingering tension in them, the sensation of the Force still fresh in my veins.

Leaning back against the headboard, I wipe the sweat from my brow, my mind racing to piece together what just happened. The nightmare... the chaos... and then Lyra's voice. Her words replay in my mind, soft and comforting. "This isn't your fault."

I let out a sigh, the weight of her words grounding me in the present moment.

"Lyra," I whisper, taking in deep, steadying breaths.

I notice the cool morning air brushing against my bare skin, and it startles me awake. The first thing I become aware of is the warmth beside me. Turning my head, I see the slender, bare back of a young woman sharing the bed with me. She shifts slightly under the sheets, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow. My heart skips a beat. Lara.

The events of last night slowly start to piece themselves together in my mind, though they're clouded by the haze of alcohol. I remember the feast—the music, the laughter, the villagers celebrating late into the night. Garrick had passed out where he sat, and most of the others had retired to their homes. Apollo had wandered off somewhere, entertaining the children, as usual.

Lara had approached me toward the end of the night, her eyes filled with gratitude... and something more. She had led me back to her home, and one thing had led to another. Now, here I was, lying next to her in a bed that didn't belong to me.

My heart pounds as I sit up carefully, trying not to disturb her. I scan the room, taking in the sight of my scattered belongings and her clothes thrown carelessly across the floor. I need to leave—now. I can't afford to stay and explain myself.

I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, my feet touching the cold stone floor. But just as I start gathering my things, there's a sudden knock at the door.

"Lara?" A woman's voice—her mother. "Is everything alright, dear?"

Panic surges through me, cold and immediate. I glance around the room, realizing the disarray caused by my nightmare—the objects I had unintentionally thrown across the room in my sleep. Thankfully, nothing is broken, but the mess is obvious. Without hesitation, I reach out with the Force, my hand flicking subtly. The furniture and scattered items lift silently into the air and float back into their original places. The table, the chairs, even the trinkets—all of it returns to where it belongs.

"Lara? Are you alright?" her mother asks again, this time more insistent.

Lara stirs beside me, groaning softly as she begins to wake. Her eyes flutter open at the sound of her mother's voice, confusion crossing her face. There's no time to explain.

I dress in a flash, pulling on my clothes with swift, practiced movements. Fully clothed, I pause for a moment, glancing back at Lara one last time. She looks at me, still half-asleep, her brow furrowing slightly as she tries to piece together what's happening.

"I have to go," I whisper, my voice low. Before she can say anything, I move toward the window.

"Lara?" her mother calls again, knocking more urgently now.

I slip out of the window in one fluid motion, landing softly on the ground outside. The morning light is just beginning to break over the horizon, and the village is still quiet. No one sees me as I make my escape, grateful to disappear into the dawn. I pull the hood over my head, concealing my face once more in shadow and proceed deeper into the village in the hopes to find Apollo.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

I wander through the village, the early morning light casting long shadows on the ground. The remnants of the feast are scattered about, with a few villagers already working to clear away the tables and fire pits. The smell of roasted meat and lingering smoke still hangs in the air. My head throbs with a fierce headache, each step making it worse. I rub my temples, hoping to dull the ache as I make my way toward the town hall.

Inside, Garrick is seated at his desk, animatedly talking with a few villagers. He seems as energetic as the night before, unaffected by the vast amounts of alcohol he consumed. Apollo stands nearby, its metallic form rigid, observing everything. Garrick greets me warmly as I enter.

"How did you sleep?" he asks, his voice booming.

I force a smile, trying not to reveal too much about last night. "Well enough, but this hangover is killing me."

Garrick laughs heartily, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We've got a remedy for that too, lad."

Soon, I find myself seated at a table with Apollo and Garrick. Villagers bring us plates of food and drinks. Apollo declines in its precise manner, "I have already eaten and am not thirsty."

Garrick looks at me with a raised eyebrow. "How bad is that hangover, then?"

I groan, rubbing my temples again. "Bad, Garrick. Really bad."

He chuckles and motions to one of the servants, who quickly returns with a steaming mug. "Drink this. It'll fix you up."

I take the mug and inhale the herbal, earthy scent. Tentatively, I sip it, feeling the warmth spread through me, gradually easing the pounding in my head. The taste is bitter, but oddly comforting, and with each sip, the headache lessens.

The villagers lay out plates of food—fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy cured meat, and thick slices of freshly baked bread slathered with butter. I take a bite, savoring the rich flavors. Slowly, the last remnants of the hangover fade.

As I enjoy the meal, Lara enters the town hall. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks radiant, her eyes bright. The moment she spots me, I avert my gaze, suddenly focused on my food. I can feel her looking at me as she makes her way over to Garrick, her mother not far behind.

"How are you feeling, Lara?" Garrick asks softly.

"I'm feeling much better," she replies, her eyes flicking toward me, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

My stomach twists slightly, and I quickly try to distract myself, turning to Garrick. "Thank you for the hospitality and the wonderful food, Garrick. We really appreciate it."

Garrick gives me a warm smile. "Of course. You and Apollo are always welcome. Here," he pulls out a small stack of papers, "Let me sign your mission pamphlet so you can be on your way."

I nod, handing over the pamphlet, watching as he signs it with a flourish. "We're happy to help," I reply, trying to keep my tone casual.

Once I finish my meal and down the last of the herbal drink, my head feels clearer. With goodbyes said, we shake hands with Garrick and prepare to leave. As Apollo and I walk away from the village, I glance over at it.

"Where were you this morning?" I ask.

"I brought our spoils to the speeder bike and monitored the forest for any goblin activity," Apollo responds. After a pause, it adds, "Lara has been looking at you strangely. What exactly happened between you two?"

I hesitate for a moment before answering. "We... spent the night together."

Apollo's photoreceptors shift to focus intently on me. "What do you mean by 'spent the night together'?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Well, that. You don't need to know the specifics."

Apollo processes this before speaking again. "Understood."

But then, it says loudly, "So, you mean to say you two—"

"Shush!" I interrupt quickly, glancing around to make sure no one overhears. "Yes, alright? That's enough of that. Now, we need to leave."

Apollo tilts its head. "You mean to say you two had interco—"

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"Enough!" I cut it off, lowering my voice. "A little discretion, please."

Apollo pauses, then finally nods, satisfied. "Understood. Discretion it is."

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

As Apollo and I step up to the counter, the guild hall buzzes with activity, the murmur of voices mingling with the clinking of mugs and the creak of wooden chairs. Felicity, standing behind the counter, catches sight of us, her bright green eyes widening in surprise. She's a short, lively woman with copper hair tied back in a neat bun, a few stray curls escaping to frame her round face. Her guild uniform, a crisp white shirt under a brown leather vest, fits her snugly, and her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, showing she's no stranger to hard work.

"Back already?" she exclaims, her voice carrying a mix of astonishment and disbelief. Her freckled cheeks flush slightly as she looks between me and Apollo, her brows furrowing.

I place the sack of goblin ears on the counter with a soft thud, the contents rustling inside. The weight of the sack draws her gaze, and her eyes widen even further as the realization hits her. "Is that—?"

Before she can finish, the familiar hum of the guild hall suddenly dims. The air grows tense, thick with expectation, and I sense something looming behind me. The sound of heavy footfalls cuts through the low murmur of conversation, each step resonating like a drumbeat on the wooden floor. The ground itself seems to tremble with the approach, and I instinctively glance toward the entrance.

A towering figure strides into view, and I can't help but take in the imposing sight before me. The man is massive—easily a head taller than most of the adventurers in the guild. His arms, thick as tree trunks and covered in intricate, swirling tribal tattoos, flex with every movement. He wears battered leather armor that clings tightly to his powerful frame, though it looks barely sufficient to contain the raw strength that radiates from him. Strapped across his broad back is a double-bladed axe, its steel edges dulled and chipped from countless battles, yet still exuding a palpable aura of danger. His long, wild mane of dark brown hair falls around his shoulders, unkempt and matted, while his beard—braided with small metal rings—only adds to his barbaric appearance.

The barbarian strides forward with a confidence born from countless victories, his mere presence demanding attention. As he reaches the reception area beside us, the floor creaks beneath his weight, and Felicity, momentarily caught off guard by his size, stiffens.

Behind him, I notice more figures filtering into the hall, and recognition washes over me like a cold wave. There, among the barbarian's party, are three men I know all too well—Aldric, Eldrin, and Talin. My memory flashes back to the cave, their faces etched with the treachery that nearly cost me my life. Aldric, with his sharp features and piercing eyes, leads the trio, his air of arrogance unchanged. His thin, dark cloak flutters slightly as he moves, the same calculating expression on his face as when I last saw him. Talin, the rogue, is more wiry, his fingers twitching restlessly near the daggers at his waist, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an easy mark. Eldric, the mage, lingers at the back, his hood drawn up, though the faint glow of magic still pulses from beneath the fabric. He moves with a quiet confidence, the air around him thick with barely contained power.

The three of them blend seamlessly with the new members of their party—four others who look just as formidable. A knight in heavy plate armor, carrying a massive shield with ease, stands to the side. His helmet obscures his face, but I can sense the disciplined strength behind his measured movements. A lithe woman with twin daggers strapped to her thighs stands beside the barbarian, her sharp eyes scanning the room with the practiced wariness of a seasoned rogue. And finally, a hooded figure whose face is obscured entirely—likely another mage—lingers in the background, their presence shadowy and enigmatic.

The barbarian approaches the receptionist's desk, his massive frame dwarfing the small wooden counter. He slaps a quest pamphlet down with enough force to make the surface creak under the weight. The receptionist, a nervous-looking young woman with short blonde hair, jumps slightly at the impact. Adjusting her glasses, she peers at the pamphlet and reads aloud, her voice trembling slightly.

"Goblin slaying in Greenhill," she reads out loud, her voice timid compared to the barbarian's looming presence.

The barbarian grunts in acknowledgment, crossing his thick arms over his chest. "We'll take care of that. Should be quick work for my crew."

Before the receptionist can log the quest, Felicity steps forward, her soft leather boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. Her bright demeanor fades into something more professional as she interjects, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the hall.

"Hold on a second Taurice," Felicity says, her tone firm but polite, directing her attention toward the receptionist and the barbarian. "That quest has already been completed."

The Taurice freezes, eyes wide behind her glasses, while the barbarian turns his head slowly towards Felicity, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What?" he growls, his deep voice rumbling through the room like a distant storm.

Felicity holds her ground, giving a small, almost apologetic smile. "Yes, the goblin problem in Greenhill has already been cleared out." She nods toward the sack of ears on the counter beside her, her hand resting lightly on the burlap as if to emphasize her point. "By these two."

The barbarian's eyes narrow, his gaze shifting from Felicity to me and Apollo, assessing us for the first time. His smirk fades slightly, replaced by a frown of disbelief. "You're telling me... they cleared out the goblins?"

Felicity nods again, her voice unwavering. "That's right. The villagers confirmed it earlier this morning. Quest's done."

For a moment, silence fills the hall. All eyes are on us, the atmosphere tense as the barbarian processes this information. His jaw clenches, and I can see the muscles in his neck tighten.

The barbarian's eyes narrow, and with heavy, thunderous steps, he storms toward us, his towering frame radiating barely restrained fury. His voice, a deep growl, cuts through the tense air. "You two completed that quest?" he barks, his face twisted with anger.

I meet his gaze calmly, not flinching. "Yes, we did."

Before I can say another word, the barbarian's massive hand shoots out and grabs me by the collar, pulling me toward him with startling force. His breath, hot and rancid, hits my face as he glares at me, his eyes burning with rage. "You stole our quest," he growls, his voice low but threatening. "We were supposed to complete that and get the reward. You owe us compensation."

His grip tightens, the muscles in his arm bulging as he pulls me closer. For a split second, the entire guild falls silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a blade. The other adventurers watch with wide eyes, some edging forward as if anticipating a fight.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the receptionist, her face pale, hurrying over. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice quick and trembling, "but they didn't steal the quest from you. It was updated while they were dealing with it. They had no way of knowing it was yours."

The barbarian doesn't seem to care. His grip on my collar tightens even more, his knuckles whitening. "That's not good enough," he spits, his face inches from mine. "You—"

In a swift motion, I reach up and grab his wrist. I apply pressure—just enough—and the effect is immediate. The barbarian's eyes widen, his bravado faltering as the pain starts to register. His hand trembles under my grip, the strength in his arm wilting as I increase the force.

"You will release me now," I say, my voice calm but firm, my eyes locking with his.

The barbarian grunts in pain, his face contorting as he tries to maintain his hold on my collar. But I squeeze harder, twisting his wrist just enough to make him cry out. He lets go of my collar, stumbling back and clutching his injured hand, his face flushed with a mixture of shock and fury.

Around us, the entire guild is stunned into silence. Felicity gasps, her hand covering her mouth, and even the barbarian's own group—including Aldric, Eldrin, and Talin—stand frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. Every adventurer in the hall watches, the tension so thick it's almost suffocating.

The barbarian's shock quickly morphs into rage. His face reddens as he reaches for the massive great axe strapped across his back. "You bastard—" he snarls, but before he can draw the weapon, Felicity steps in between us, her voice cutting through the rising chaos.

"Wallace! That's enough!" she snaps, her eyes blazing as she glares at the barbarian. "You know the rules. There's no fighting in the guild hall. And in case you've forgotten, they didn't steal your quest."

Wallace hesitates, his hand still on the hilt of his great axe, his eyes flicking between Felicity and me. The fury in his gaze remains, but it's tempered now by frustration, and he knows Felicity is right. The room is dead silent as Felicity continues.

"You weren't even aware of the quest's nature," she says firmly. "They took it on and completed it. And I shouldn't have to remind you that you've already been in trouble with the guild before. Do you really want to add another strike against your name?"

Wallace's hand hovers over his axe for a moment longer before he slowly lets it drop. His chest heaves with anger, but he knows he can't fight her on this. He glares at me one last time, his eyes filled with venom. "Watch yourself," he growls, jabbing a thick finger at my chest.

I don't respond, meeting his glare with a steady calm. Wallace clenches his jaw, then spins on his heel, storming out of the guild hall with heavy, furious steps. His party follows close behind, Aldric, Eldrin, and Talin exchanging uneasy glances. They linger for a moment longer, their expressions a mixture of frustration and disappointment, before heading toward the bar, clearly deflated.

The tension in the room finally starts to ease as the barbarian and his group leave, but the curious stares from the other adventurers remain, their eyes flicking between Apollo and me, whispers spreading quickly.

Felicity turns back to me, her expression softening. "Sorry about that," she says, shaking her head. "Wallace can be... intense."

I brush it off, adjusting my collar. "It's fine," I say, the adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. "I've dealt with worse."

She gives me a nod, though I can still see the surprise in her eyes from the confrontation. Around us, the clamor of the guild begins to return, though I can feel the weight of the eyes still on me and Apollo as we stand at the counter.

Felicity collects herself, smoothing down her apron and flashing us both a warm, welcoming smile. The tension in her posture dissolves, replaced by her usual bright demeanor. "Alright," she says, her voice steady. "Let's go over your mission report."

I reach into my cloak and hand her the neatly folded papers. She takes them, her fingers brushing over the parchment as she begins to read. At first, her expression remains neutral, her eyes scanning the lines quickly. But then, her brows furrow, and her eyes begin to widen. Slowly, she lowers the papers, the welcoming smile fading as shock overtakes her features.

She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You two... took down an entire goblin encampment?" Her gaze darts between me and Apollo. "By yourselves?"

Apollo, always quick to chime in, adds, "We had a contest. But I lost by only one goblin."

Felicity blinks, momentarily thrown off. "A... contest?" She looks puzzled, her brow furrowing even deeper.

Before I can stop him, Apollo continues, oblivious to my warning glance. "Who kills the most goblins, of course. I got one hundred and forty-two, but Ryu got one hundred and forty-three."

Felicity's mouth falls slightly open, completely baffled by Apollo's words. She looks at me, her expression caught between disbelief and sheer amazement. "One hundred and forty-three..."

I let out a quiet sigh, realizing there's no point in trying to stop Apollo now. Without saying a word, I reach for the sack slung over my shoulder and untie the top, pulling it open. The moment the sack is fully revealed, Felicity's eyes widen even further. Inside are hundreds of severed goblin ears, almost overflowing from the bag—grisly proof of our work. The weight of her disbelief seems to grow as she stares at the sack, her eyes tracing over each ear as though struggling to comprehend what she's seeing.

For a long moment, the guild hall is quiet, the other adventurers still watching us closely. Felicity, still baffled, blinks a few times, then lets out a small, incredulous chuckle, her smile finally returning. "I had a feeling about you two," she says, shaking her head in disbelief. "But this... this is something else."

She sets the papers aside and sighs, her voice turning apologetic. "I do need to apologize, though. It seems this mission was actually gold rank." She rubs her forehead, clearly embarrassed. "It must have been mistakenly placed in the bronze quest section of the mission board."

Apollo's photoreceptors blink in a subtle imitation of surprise, but I remain silent, letting Felicity continue. She chuckles softly, shaking her head once more. "But it seems it didn't matter, did it?" Her tone is light, tinged with admiration. "You two handled it just fine."

She takes a deep breath, recomposing herself. "Give me a moment to process this." She holds up her hand, gesturing for me and Apollo to wait. "I'll need your guild badges as well," she says, extending her palm.

Apollo and I both reach for our identification badges, handing them over. Felicity takes them carefully, her smile now fully returned, though there's still a trace of amazement in her eyes.

"You can wait over there," she says, pointing toward a set of wooden benches across from the reception area, "or at the pub if you wish. This will take a little time."

I glance at Apollo, then back at the benches. Sitting there and waiting sounds dull, especially with the weight of so many eyes still on us. I nod toward the pub just beyond the hall's main entrance. "Let's wait in the pub."

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

Nodding, Apollo and I make our way across the guild hall. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the bustling room. Despite the early hour, there's still a fair amount of activity. Adventurers chat quietly over their breakfasts, and the occasional clink of mugs indicates that a few are already enjoying a morning ale.

As we approach the bar, I notice the three adventurers from before sitting at an empty table, their expressions grim.

"What do we do now, Eldrin?" Talin asks, leaning forward on the table.

Eldrin plants his hands in his face, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know. Let me think." He turns to Aldric, lifting his head. "Aldric, how much money do we have?"

Aldric pulls out a small pouch and empties it onto the table. Three copper coins and dust land with a soft clink, rolling to a stop on the wooden surface. Eldrin's eyes widen.

"That's all we have? That barely buys a meat stick at the market," he remarks, frustration clear in his voice.

Feeling a pang of guilt, I decide to approach them. As we near, they look up, their expressions hardening.

"What do you want?" Talin sneers, his voice dripping with suspicion.

Aldric, arms crossed, quickly scoops the coins back into his pouch, eyeing me and Apollo warily. "Here to rub your success in our faces?"

Before I can respond, Eldrin raises a hand, silencing his companions. "Don't be rude. Let's hear him out." He turns to me, his expression more measured but cautious. "What is it you want?"

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I feel bad for accidentally completing your quest. I wanted to apologize. May we join you?"

The three of them exchange glances, skepticism and curiosity flickering across their faces. "Why should we let you?" Talin asks, his tone less hostile but still guarded.

"How about I buy you a round of breakfast and drinks? My treat," I offer, hoping to bridge the gap.

"Oh, spare us your pity. We don't need your charity," Aldric snaps, but as if on cue, his stomach lets out a loud, embarrassing grumble. He looks away, trying to hide his embarrassment, but the hunger is obvious.

The three adventurers huddle together, whispering amongst themselves. After a few moments, Eldrin nods and gestures to the two empty chairs beside them. "Alright, have a seat."

Apollo and I take our places at the table. The atmosphere is still tense, but there's a glimmer of hope that we might find some common ground. As we settle in, the usual noise of the guild hall hums around us, but our focus remains on the conversation at hand.

I look at the three adventurers, feeling the weight of their recent hardships. "You can order whatever you want," I tell them.

Aldric doesn't waste a second, waving over a waitress. "I'll have the adventurer's platter and a mug of ale," he declares, earning a surprised look from Eldrin.

"It's still early," Eldrin remarks, shaking his head.

Aldric shrugs. "If this guy's paying, then I'm going to eat well and drink well."

Eldrin sighs and apologizes for Aldric's behavior. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," I reply. "It's the least I can do for you."

Talin and Eldrin order something simpler, more appropriate for breakfast—egg platters with bread and fruit. The waitress then turns to Apollo and me, but we both politely decline. She smiles and disappears behind the bar, heading toward the kitchen.

From a quick glance, the kitchen is bustling with activity. Large pots simmer over open flames, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air. The clatter of utensils and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables add to the lively atmosphere.

When the waitress returns, she carries a large tray laden with food. Aldric's order is a feast: a massive plate of meats, breads, cheeses, and a large mug of ale. In contrast, Eldrin and Talin's meals are modest—simple plates of eggs, bread, and a small portion of fruit.

"Dig in," I say, offering a small smile.

Just as Aldric is about to take his first bite, Eldrin stops him, his hand hovering over the plate. "This much food is very expensive. We appreciate your generosity, but we can't accept."

I shake my head. "It's alright. Think of it as a formal apology for taking your quest."

Eldrin hesitates for a moment before nodding, then begins to eat. Aldric and Talin, however, waste no time. It's clear from the way they devour their meals that they haven't eaten well in some time, savoring each bite like it's their first real meal in days.

There's a moment of silence as the three adventurers focus on their meals, the tension slowly melting away as they enjoy the food. I sit back, glancing at Apollo, who remains silent but observant, always keeping an eye on the surroundings.

"You haven't eaten like this in a while, have you?" I observe quietly, watching as they tuck into their food.

Talin, his mouth full, mumbles, "We've been having a hard time finding work ever since that botched golem quest."

"Our reputation is at an all-time low," Eldrin adds, his voice heavy with frustration. "We hoped that rescue quest would get us back on our feet."

"No one wants to team up with us anymore," Aldric says between gulps of ale, followed by a loud burp.

I ask, "What will you do now?"

Eldrin sighs, his shoulders slumping. "The only thing we can do is accept bronze rank missions."

"They pay too little and are very boring," Talin chimes in, crossing his arms with a scowl.

"Or we could go into one of the dungeons," Aldric suggests, leaning back in his chair. "But we're ill-equipped for that."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "The dungeons?"

Aldric looks at me incredulously, like I've just asked the most obvious question in the world. "You've never heard of the dungeons before?"

Thinking quickly, I explain, "Apollo and I are from a secluded place far, far away, so we didn't get to see much of the world around us."

Eldrin nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "I see," he says, then begins explaining. "Dungeons are remnants of Aranthia's dark past. It's a long and boring story, though. I don't want to bore you."

"Please don't indulge him," Aldric says with a chuckle, leaning towards me while chewing on a piece of bread. "You'd be doing this entire pub a favor." His chuckle earns a deathly glare from Eldrin.

I chuckle as well. "I'm intrigued. Please, tell us."