The Gang Appears

On the next evening, the entire village of Elowen shimmered under the soft light of a hundred lanterns.

Strings of colorful cloth fluttered between homes, dancing in the breeze. Children darted around with paper lanterns shaped like birds and stars. Long tables filled the village square, lined with everything the village could offer — fresh rice dishes, boiled roots, garlic-flavored broth, roasted forest vegetables, and sweet tea brewed from wild herbs.

And walking toward the center of it all was Riku, a covered basket cradled carefully in his hands.

Lila walked beside him, peering at it with obvious interest.

"You're not going to tell me what's inside?"

"Nope," Riku said, lips curved into a smug little smile. "It's a surprise."

"Humph. I am sure that it would be nothing good anyway," she muttered under her breath, looking away,

Though in reality, she was secretly looking forward to it.

Barou smiled when he saw the theatrics between his daughter and Riku. Slowly, he came forward to address the crowd, his voice booming as always — this time tinged with genuine emotion.

"People of Elowen!"

The villagers fell quiet, every eye fixed on him.

"A month ago, we faced drought. Hunger. Despair. We could barely light our stoves, let alone our hearts. But tonight, we feast — not just on food, but on hope."

He turned, motioning to Riku.

"And none of this… would've been possible without the one standing right beside me. Our savior — the man who restored the well, healed our wounded, and brought us knowledge and kindness from another world!"

A wave of applause erupted. Whistles, cheers, even teary-eyed villagers clapping with both hands raised.

Riku stepped forward slowly, a little sheepish, still holding the covered basket.

He raised a hand, offering a quiet smile.

"I really didn't do anything grand," he said. "I was just lucky to be here. Anyone with the right tools could've done the same."

He paused, lifting the cloth from the basket.

"But I do have something to share."

A rich aroma immediately wafted out — warm, nutty, with just the faintest hint of sourness. Inside the basket sat several small, round loaves of golden-brown bread, steam curling from the cracks in the crusts.

Gasps echoed.

"Is that…?"

"What is that?"

Barou stepped forward, eyes wide. "...Bread."

The villagers murmured in awe.

"But bread is a city food, isn't it?" someone asked. "I've never seen it before."

Barou nodded. "When I was young, I worked a season in the outskirts of Revale City. Nobles had it brought in by the slice. I've never tasted it again since. The process of making it is closely guarded by nobility"

Riku smiled softly. "It's just flour, salt, water, and wild yeast. Nothing magical. Anyone can make it."

"But how do you know the recipe?" someone else called out.

Riku shrugged. "A friend of a friend. And really… what matters isn't who knows a recipe — it's that we share it."

A silence fell again.

Then a cheer rose — louder, this time not just in admiration, but in agreement.

"To sharing!"

"To our saviou!"

"To Elowen!"

Soon, the feast began.

Plates clinked. Laughter filled the air. Lanterns swayed like stars drawn close to earth.

Riku and Lila sat together on a bench just beside the well, sharing a plate between them.

"This bread…" Lila said, biting into a soft, still-warm piece. "It's… completely different from the buns."

"Less sweet. More rustic," Riku said. "You like it?"

"I love it," she said with a grin. "It's got a personality."

Riku chuckled. "Like someone I know."

Lila gave him a mock glare, then laughed again.

As plates were passed around and mugs were filled, a group of children and elders began setting up a small raised platform beside the square.

"Oh!," Lila laughed. "They're doing the play."

Riku raised an eyebrow. "There's a play?"

"Yes," she said, smiling despite herself. "They perform The Tale of the Lost Chicken and the Misfired Fireball. It's completely ridiculous. I had only seen it once, years ago, when we last had the harvest feast."

"What's it about?"

"A chicken. A wizard. An exploding vegetable garden. You'll see."

Riku watched as a young boy in a makeshift beard and oversized cloak stomped across the stage shouting, "Behold! I am Archmage Splendrick, and I command the power of eggplants!"

The audience roared with laughter. Someone threw a handful of flower petals. Another boy in a feathered cloak ran across the stage clucking wildly.

"Not the sacred chicken!" one elder cried out from the crowd.

The cast performed with full conviction, fake magic sparks made of shimmering cloth and dramatic swoons that made the children squeal with joy. Even Barou played a part, pretending to be the "wise soil spirit" who got hit in the face by a turnip.

Lila laughed so hard she had to lean against Riku for balance.

"It's absurd," she said between wheezes.

"It's perfect," Riku replied.

Just as the "archmage" prepared to "banish the chicken to the realm of gravy," a sudden voice tore through the night:

"Trouble at the gate! Trouble at the gate!"

The music stopped. Everyone suddenly stood immediately, their hearts pounding at the sudden shouts of trouble.

The boy on stage froze, holding his stuffed turnip overhead like a sword.

The villagers turned as one — all eyes shifting to the panting watchman at the edge of the square.

The watchman came rushing onto the stage, directly kneeling in front of Barou. His face was pale with fright.

"They're here," he gasped. "The Scorchback Kin. They've… they've got the adventurers. Eren and the others — they're alive, but tied up. The gang is right outside the gate."

Lila dropped her bread and immediately stood up. Her face went cold with fear and horror. Barou's voice dropped an octave as well. "How many?"

"Ten. Maybe more. All are armed with swords and spears."

Riku's eyes narrowed. Naturally, he was not afraid of those bandits, however, the entire mood was completely ruined.

The feast, the bread, the joy — it all hung suspended in the air and an air of fear and terror had taken over once again.

He turned slowly, looking at the basket of bread on the edge of the table and at Lila's now terror-stricken face.

"Well," he muttered, rolling his sleeves back up, "there goes my peaceful evening."