Rylan spoke softly, barely above a whisper as they strolled side by side. "I... I apologize, Lucan. This is all because of me..."
Lucan cut him off, grinning wide. "Sorry? Nah, don't worry about it!" He swung the cloth sack off his shoulder, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Matter of fact, guess what I hunted."
He pulled open the sack, revealing thick slabs of meat, fur, and enormous claws. Both Rylan and Lyra froze, their jaws dropping.
"No way…" Rylan stammered. "Is that... is that Dreadclaw Ursok? That's a B-rank beast!"
Lucan stood tall, a proud smirk stretching across his face. "Yup. Took it down myself. Now, let's start cooking, and I'll tell you how."
Lyra blinked, her shock fading into admiration. "You really are insane, Lucan." She grabbed the sack's edge, helping with the spoils as they made their way toward the camp. Rylan, still speechless, followed behind, his head spinning.
As they walked through the camp, Lucan noticed the eyes on them. Hollow stares from scrawny soldiers followed every step, their gazes fixated on the sack of meat slung over his shoulder. Some looked away quickly, others whispered to each other, hunger evident in their faces.
Lucan leaned over to Lyra and Rylan, his voice a low whisper. "Let's cook up a feast. For the whole camp."
Lyra glanced at him, then at the soldiers, and gave a slight nod. "You're crazy, but I'm in."
Rylan's expression softened. "Yeah, let's do it. They need this."
As the trio moved into their usual rhythm, Rylan and Lyra darted off to gather wild vegetables, their knowledge of the mountain's forage making them efficient. Lucan set up a makeshift kitchen near the camp's largest fire pit, pulling out knives and tools with the ease of a seasoned hunter.
The air shifted around the camp as word spread. Soldiers who had been slumped in exhaustion now stirred, curiosity drawing them closer to the fire. Lucan could feel their eyes on him, but this time, the energy was different—hopeful, almost.
Rylan and Lyra returned, arms full of wild greens and roots. "Found some good stuff," Rylan said, tossing the veggies down with a grin.
Lyra smirked. "This is going to be the best meal this camp has seen in weeks."
Lucan laughed, already seasoning the Dreadclaw meat. "Let's get to work."
Soon, the rich smell of cooking meat and herbs filled the air. Soldiers gathered, their once hollow eyes now focused on the fire, the scent pulling them closer like moths to a flame. Lucan moved around the fire, stirring pots and flipping meat, his usual cocky grin replaced by a look of determination.
"Everyone," he called out, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Tonight, we eat. All of us."
The camp, once lifeless, now buzzed with excitement. Men and women who had been little more than shadows a moment ago came forward, gathering around the fire. Some smiled for the first time in days, others whispered to each other in disbelief.
As the first pieces of meat were handed out, the campfire crackled with more than just flames. Laughter, hesitant at first, rippled through the malnourished soldiers, like the first drops of rain in a long drought. Conversations broke out, voices rising in a symphony of clinking plates and shared relief. Faces that had been gaunt and hollow now flickered with warmth, the scent of roasting meat pulling them into a rare moment of camaraderie. Lucan, sitting on a tree stump he'd fashioned into a makeshift chair, watched the transformation unfold around him. Pride stirred in his chest. For the first time since arriving, the camp felt alive.
Suddenly, the murmur of the camp faltered. The flap of a large tent near the edge of the clearing was swept aside, and Captain Gideon emerged. His heavy boots crunched on the gravel as he strode toward the fire. The soldiers quieted immediately, the mood shifting from lively to tense in an instant, as if a cold wind had blown through the camp. The captain's presence had that effect. Eyes lowered, hands froze mid-motion. The only sound now was the crackle of the fire.
Gideon's sharp eyes scanned the scene, his gaze narrowing on the feast before him. His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Who did this?"
Lucan, feeling the weight of the captain's gaze, stood up from his stump. He squared his shoulders and spoke firmly. "It was me."
The captain's steely eyes locked onto Lucan, his expression unreadable. "Ah, the disobedient one," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "You survived, huh?"
Gideon's attention shifted to the pile of fur and the enormous claws resting by the fire, unmistakably from the Dreadclaw Ursok. His eyebrow arched slightly. "And that?" he asked, gesturing toward the rare materials.
Lucan followed his gaze to the pile and nodded. "Yes, sir. I was attacked on my way back. So, I did what I had to do."
The captain's lips curled into a grin, but there was no warmth in it. "Is that right?" He lingered for a moment, his eyes studying Lucan as though sizing him up. Then, without another word, he motioned for one of the nearby knights. "Take that," he ordered, pointing to the Dreadclaw materials.
The knight quickly obeyed, gathering the precious fur and claws with efficient movements. Gideon turned his back on Lucan, his gravelly voice carrying over his shoulder as he walked away. "Come to my tent afterward."
Lucan nodded, though the captain didn't see it. As Gideon disappeared back into his tent, he gave a final command to the soldiers, his tone dismissive. "The rest of you—carry on."
The camp hesitated for a moment before the soldiers, unsure but eager to return to the rare joy of the feast, resumed their laughter and eating, though the air had lost some of its earlier levity. Lucan watched Gideon disappear into the shadows of his tent, wondering what awaited him in that meeting.
As the feast went on, Lucan stood up, his grin wide and infectious as he began recounting the tale of how he hunted the Dreadclaw Ursok. The soldiers, malnourished and beaten down by war, gathered around him, their eyes wide with awe. His voice carried over the crackling fire, and though he exaggerated a few moments—like how the Ursok had nearly knocked down a tree with one swipe, or how he'd dodged a flurry of deadly claws with the grace of a seasoned warrior—the smiles and laughter that spread through the group made it worth it. For a moment, the camp was alive, not just with food and fire, but with hope.
Lyra chuckled as Lucan finished his story, nudging Rylan. "He's laying it on thick," she whispered, and Rylan smirked in agreement.
"Well, maybe a little," Lucan replied, overhearing her. "But it worked, didn't it?"
The soldiers were still smiling, some even laughing softly as they returned to their meals. It was the first time in what felt like forever that this ragtag group had something to celebrate. As the feast began winding down, Lucan sat with Lyra and Rylan, the three of them casually talking about the adventure, the strange twists of fate that had led them here, and what might come next.
Suddenly, the flap of the tent rustled. A knight stepped inside, his face expressionless under his helmet. "Lucan Stone," he said, his voice firm but low, "the captain will see you now."
The fire crackled as the group fell into a heavy silence. Lucan's gaze drifted towards the captain's tent, feeling the weight of his friends' stares on him. However, neither Lyra nor Rylan made a sound.
Lucan rose to his feet, the fading sounds of the feast ringing in his ears. The knight stood by the entrance of the tent, his presence casting a dark shadow in the flickering light from the fire. Lucan exhaled deeply and looked back at his companions, a faint smile playing across his face.He spoke quietly, "I suppose it's time," knowing that the atmosphere around them was tense. He followed the knight out into the darkness, making his way to the captain's tent.