The sun hung low in the sky as Artreus, Mikael, Aidan and Master Samson entered the gates of Tudelian, the village bustling with the evening's preparations.The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the streets, mingling with the hum of conversation and the faint clang of blacksmiths finishing their work for the day.

As the Samson and trio made their way to the village square, they were greeted by the village chief, an older man with a kind face lined by years of worry and leadership. He approached with a respectful nod, carrying a small pouch that jingled with coins.

"Master Samson," the chief said warmly, handing over the pouch, "here's the reward for your service. And please, feel free to stay in our village as long as you need. You must be tired from your travels." He glanced around, lowering his voice slightly. "These days are dangerous, especially at night. Demons and monsters have been wandering the countryside after sundown. Thankfully, our village is secure, protected by our knights. Gods bless us all."

Samson nodded in acknowledgment, taking the pouch and tucking it away. "Thank you for the offer," he said, his deep voice steady. "If there's a tavern nearby, I could use a drink."

The chief chuckled softly. "There is, just down the main street. The Golden Boar. You'll find what you're looking for there."

"Good," Samson replied with a faint smirk. "I'll need some strong alcohol tonight."

Beside him, Artreus perked up, his stomach growling audibly. "Great. I'm starving," he said, rubbing his abdomen. "I could go for a steak. A big one."

Mikael laughed, throwing an arm around Artreus's shoulders. "Yeah, me too. It's been a long day.

The Tavern Feast

The tavern, The Golden Boar, was a cozy and lively place, filled with the warm glow of lanterns and the hum of conversation. The smell of roasted meats and freshly baked bread hung heavy in the air, making Artreus's stomach growl even louder as they stepped inside.

The three found a table near the hearth, where a waitress soon delivered three sizzling steaks, each one thick and juicy, accompanied by fresh bread and steaming potatoes.

Artreus's eyes lit up at the sight, his excitement barely contained. His mouth watered as he stared at the feast before him. "Finally…" he muttered, practically drooling.

Mikael laughed at his expression. "You look like you haven't eaten in a week!"

Artreus ignored the comment, picking up his knife and fork eagerly. Mikael followed suit, and the two dug in with enjoyment.

"This is so much better than Master's disgusting stew," Mikael said between bites, his voice filled with genuine delight.

Artreus nodded vigorously, his mouth full. "Yeah… tastes like heaven!"

The two ate with an almost childlike joy, their faces glowing as they devoured the meal. The tension and exhaustion of their journey melted away, replaced by laughter and full stomachs.

Meanwhile, Samson sat at the bar, a tankard of ale in hand. He joined a group of villagers and fellow drunkards, sharing stories and laughter. As he slammed his empty tankard down, he called out, "Another one for me!"

The barkeep chuckled, pouring him another round.

A New Threat

Beyond the cheerful glow of Tudelian, in the shadowed outskirts of the forest, two figures stood watching the village from a distance. Their dark silhouettes were illuminated faintly by the moonlight, their malevolent presence palpable.

One of them, cloaked in tattered robes, leaned forward, his voice a low, sinister rasp. "Look at that village. So lively. How… convenient."

The other figure chuckled, his laughter sharp and grating. "This will make for a fine feast for our kind. Command the troll to engage."

From the shadows behind them, a massive creature emerged. The troll's hulking form towered over the treetops, its grotesque face twisted into a permanent scowl. Muscles rippled under its rough, grayish skin, and its bloodshot eyes gleamed with a dull, animalistic hunger.

The first figure raised a gnarled hand, pointing toward Tudelian. "Go," he commanded. "Destroy them all."

The troll let out a deafening roar that echoed through the forest, shaking the ground beneath its massive feet. With slow, deliberate steps, it lumbered toward the village, each movement heralding the destruction to come.

In the Tavern: Aidan's Shadowed Past

As Artreus leaned back in his chair, he patted his stomach with a satisfied sigh. "Ah… I'm so full."

Across the table, Mikael grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was the best meal I've had in ages. Beats Master's stew any day."

Artreus chuckled softly but his gaze wandered across the room. In a corner, seated alone at a small table, was Aidan. The dim light of the tavern cast shadows over his face as he quietly ate his steak, his expression cold and distant.

Artreus leaned toward Mikael, lowering his voice. "Hey, Mikael."

Mikael tilted his head. "Yeah?"

Artreus hesitated for a moment, then gestured subtly toward Aidan. "Do you know what Aidan's story is?"

Mikael raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Why do you want to know about him? Ah, I get it—you're trying to figure out his weakness, huh? Great idea, but I have no clue what it is."

Artreus shook his head, his tone serious. "No, I mean… how did he become a disciple in the first place? Why is he like that—so angry all the time?"

Mikael leaned back in his chair, his playful demeanor softening slightly. He tapped a finger against the table as he considered the question. "I don't know the full story, honestly. But I do know this: Master found him in Ashington Village."

Artreus frowned, sensing there was more. "Ashington Village? What about it?"

Mikael's voice dropped, his tone taking on a more somber edge. "The place was a mess. Word is, Aidan killed several people there before Master took him in."

"What?" Artreus's eyes widened, the revelation hitting him like a blow.

"That's why you don't want to mess with him," Mikael continued, his gaze flicking toward Aidan. "He's always grumpy, sure, but there's something darker beneath it. He's dangerous. You saw how he handled those goblins earlier—he doesn't hold back."

Artreus looked back at Aidan, who was cutting into his steak with mechanical precision, his face an unreadable mask. Despite the distance between them, there was an air of solitude around him, an invisible barrier that kept everyone at bay.

Mikael shrugged, his tone lightening slightly, though the weight of his words lingered. "That guy's a mystery. Until he decides to open up, I don't think anyone's going to know what really happened."

Artreus pushed his chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the tavern floor as he stood. Mikael looked up, his expression shifting from curiosity to alarm.

"Art! Where are you going?" Mikael called out, his voice low but urgent.

Artreus glanced back, his expression firm. "Gotta talk to him."

Mikael shot out of his seat, waving his arms in protest. "Are you crazy? Did you not hear a single word I just said? He's dangerous, Art! Don't cause a scene."

But Artreus ignored him, his steps resolute as he crossed the room toward Aidan's solitary table. Mikael groaned, muttering to himself, "This is not going to end well..."

Reaching Aidan's table, Artreus stopped just short, his presence breaking the quiet bubble that surrounded the brooding figure. Aidan, mid-bite, slowly looked up. His sharp, cold eyes locked onto Artreus, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

"What do you want?" Aidan's tone was low, his words cutting.

Before Artreus could respond, a sudden scream pierced the air, shattering the tense moment like glass.

The noise came from outside—panicked, terrified cries that quickly grew louder. The atmosphere in the tavern shifted instantly. Patrons froze, their cheerful chatter replaced by murmurs of confusion.

"What's going on?" Mikael said, his head snapping toward the door.

More screams erupted, joined by the heavy thudding of something massive approaching. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet.

Aidan stood abruptly, his chair toppling over as his hand went to the hilt of his sword. His cold gaze shifted from Artreus to the door, his expression hardening into one of focus.

Artreus turned to Mikael, his own hand instinctively gripping the sword at his side. "Something's happening."

Samson, seated at the bar, was already on his feet, his sharp eyes narrowing as he listened to the commotion outside. "Boys," he barked, his voice commanding, "gear up. We've got trouble."

The tavern door burst open, a frantic villager stumbling inside. His face was pale, his chest heaving as he shouted, "A troll! A troll is attacking the village!"

The tavern erupted into chaos, patrons scrambling for the exit or ducking for cover. Outside, the roars of the massive creature grew louder, accompanied by the sound of crashing wood and splintering stone.

Samson grabbed his secret weapon and barked an order. "Mikael, Artreus, Aidan—outside, now! Protect the village!"

Without hesitation, the three disciples moved, their earlier tensions forgotten in the face of the looming threat. As they stepped out into the chaos of Tudelian, the night sky was lit by the glow of fires, and in the distance, the hulking silhouette of the troll loomed over the village, its roar shaking the very air.

The battle for Tudelian had begun.