Agreths cool blue eyes rose as the intricately carved tavern sign came into focus. The Copper Turtle. He took in a slow steady breath, steadying his nerves, feeling a pang of frustration that they could still be unsettled. Years of being tempered by public performances long ago was his penance enough to pay to earn steady nerves. But tonight he found himself surprised. He was actually nervous. Long lithe fingers, those speaking both to his elfin blood and that of being a bard move to his broad brimmed hat, adjusting it as though the familiar sensation could bring him a sense of comfort. Sliding a broad charming grin over his face, he continued his steps towards the door. The closer he drew to the tavern, the closer the cooling night air spilled alive with music and boisterous chatter. His violin and bow strapped to his back tapping with each step as if to provide encouragement. Tonight Agreth had come to the familiar bat not to trade songs for silver; but to trade words for truth.

As soon as he shouldered into the bar, the barkeep shifts to catch who had entered, and recognizing the familiar bard, and knowing his already prearranged meeting for today simply gives him a cordial wave, and a vague gesture towards where Agreth’s intended destination.

With smooth grace, Agreth greeted the various patrons, offering small words of hello, or quick teasing quips for the more familiar ones, easing into the familiarity of theatrics. The elfin bard was striking, and purposefully so. Tall enough to hold a mystique, but not so tall as to intimidate. He donned intricate and flashy whites, silken blues and decorative filigree of silvers, a whispered promise of a performance and quickly at a glance identifying his profession. His eyes welcoming, his expression often filled with mischief and play. His black hair, highlighting a hint stronger blue than what would be naturally seen. While he talked to the crowd, with dexterous subtle movements, he made sure his clothes were in presentable order.

It did not take much looking to find whom he was looking for. Despite the tavern being a common, if otherwise unremarkable spot, it was packed on this evening. The days were getting closer to Highharvestide and the sense of indulgence and relaxation after a hard falls work was already in the minds of those in Baldurs Gate. Despite the packed tavern, there was a table near the back where a solitary man sat, and all other chairs around him staid bare. Agreth knowing the man’s reputation and capability knew it was due to the common masses being weary, intimidated but it struck Agreth as distinctly sad, echoing something in his own heart.

As he walked closer, the man’s features came more into focus. Dark brown hair, brushed back but still falling about as though hardly tamed, gave an air of controlled chaos. In similar suit, around the mans sharp facial features, a well kept if slightly scruffy beard marked his face. He wore basic, practical, comfortable if fine quality brown and white robes. Unassuming, but careful, similar to when he had first caught Agreths attention in the gala. He had spoken to the famed Gale of Waterdeep then, and though it was a brief discussion Agreth was sure to arrange this interview in more casual terms. Gale had agreed.

Agreths steps come close enough that their intent of direction became obvious, and Gale’s stormy grey eyes drew up to meet his, and quickly recognition and secondly pleased excitement danced there. He stood gesturing to the seat across from him.

“Ah, Agreth. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Might I say your attire is as splendid and intricate as any of the spells I’ve mastered. Certainly plays the part of what one expects to see of a Bard.” Gale sits as Agreth takes his spot, his jovial tone continuing with an air of genuine curiosity “I’m curious to learn what a bard of your standing in the city might be interested in conversing about. Are we to delve into the arcane, or perhaps, you seek to trade tales and songs of old?”

A low chuckle escapes Agreth as he graciously takes the seat, Gale’s enthusiasm being contagious. “I’m please you remember who I am, I was worried I had gotten lost in the din of other pressing social obligations.”

“Perish the thought” he interjects, but gestures for Agreth to continue.

“Well, let’s be to the point then.” Agreth retorts with clear amusement “I have sought you out Gale of Waterdeep, as I have often heard rumour of your exploits, and figured if anyone in Baldurs Gate could provide me inspiration for a new song, it’d be you.”

Gale gives leans forward in his seat giving an appreciate nod, clearly enjoying the flattery and opportunity to touch on his life.

"Ah, inspiration is a curious thing, akin to the weave itself—elusive, yet omnipresent. Better help me to inspire you then. Tell me, Agreth, what themes enchant your audience most? Love, perhaps, or the thrill of adventure? Or maybe something darker, a tale of betrayal and redemption?" he pauses a moment, his eyes resting on Agreth’s broad hat for a moment “Though i feel it may have to be quite the tale; you carry an air of eccentric uniqueness about you that I feel would have to be outmatched to captivate you” he muses.

Agreths brows raise, and in a tone of mock surprise retorts "What flattery. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were a Bard with the silvery tongue" Agreth gives him a playful wink but continues "Simply give me something that ignites passion in you, yourself. The more passionate the source of my tales the more sweet the melody"

Gale chuckles softly the sound mingling with the ambient noise of the tavern. "Passion—my muse and my nemesis. There's a tale that comes to mind, not often shared, of my encounter with Mystra’s weave itself, a moment that kindled an unquenchable flame within me. To harness such power, yet to bear the burden of its potential demise." Gale leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Picture it, Agreth: the very essence of magic, a tapestry so vast and intricate that its beauty could move even the stoic heart of a stone golem. Therein lies a melody, don't you think? A symphony of magic’s might and its perilous dance with those who dare to wield it."

Instinctually drawn in once more by Gale’s own effervescence, Agreth leans in in turn, a twinkle of anticipation touching his eyes. “I think I have heard of it.. but to hear it from the horses mouth-" he pauses looking a bit abashed "to hear it from its source" he corrects to maintain a thread of respect.

With a knowing smile, Gale nods, acknowledging the correction with a wave of his hand, dismissing any need for formality between them. "Indeed, to wield magic is to dance with destiny itself. During my travels, I stumbled upon an ancient artifact, a Netherese Arcanist's bauble that was imbued with a spell of such immense power it could alter the very fabric of reality. The thrill of discovering such an artifact, the rush of arcane energy coursing through my veins—it was intoxicating."

Gale pauses, his eyes growing momentarily distant, reflecting on the gravity of the experience. "But with great power, as you might expect, comes great peril. The artifact, it... demanded a price. A piece of my very essence, my soul, to stave off a catastrophe of my own inadvertent making. The passion you seek for your song? It lies in the heartrending choice between power and the steep price one must pay to wield it responsibly."

The dancing light from the fireplace nearby casts shadows across his face, making his angular features look almost inhuman, mirroring the seriousness of the tale. "Such is the burden of those who chase after the arcane, a melody of monumental might laced with the somber tones of sacrifice. Would this tale serve as the inspiration you seek for your new song, Agreth?"

Agreth nods once more in response. "I believe it certainly would. I already have many questions" He sits back some in his chair, regarding Gale, taking in his features as though trying to read the consequences of his story upon his body "I suspect me and you may have had very different relationships with the Weave" he adds perhaps a bit incongruently.

Gale pauses a moment, almost seeming to be taken a back at the idea of Agreth having a relationship with the Weave at all, perhaps forgetting for a moment that more than just wizards could touch it. He recovers though and his excitement at talking about magic at all continues to drive him "Indeed, our paths through the Weave likely diverge as much as they intertwine. I've always seen it as a partner in a perilous dance—one misstep, and the consequences can ripple through the very essence of being. My relationship with it is fraught with both reverence and dread."

Easing back in his seat he continues "The Weave is a tapestry that offers boundless opportunities to those who can touch its threads without succumbing to their seduction. Each spell cast, a negotiation; each incantation, a promise. Tell me, Agreth, how does the Weave speak to you? As a bard, your magic flows through music and charm. Does it not demand its own kind of price?" His grey eyes hold Agreths, his curiosity piqued, eager to understand how another artist interprets the profound and often precarious connection with the arcane.

"I’d be happy to tell you Gale." Agreth begins in response, but pauses giving him a cheeky smile "Another time. This time is to hear of your story" Agreth gestures to him with an open palm indicating that the floor is his. "Tell me your story of seeking power and the sacrifice needed to gain it"

A soft chuckle escapes him at Agreth’s deft redirection, and he nods in acknowledgement of the conversational baton that has been passed back to him. "Very well, let's delve deeper then. My tale is one of ambition that perhaps fell into folly through hubris.

My fascination with magic began early in my days at Waterdeep, driven by a voracious appetite to understand the underlying mechanisms of the universe. This quest led me to the discovery of an artifact I mentioned, one that promised to elevate my capabilities beyond the ordinary constraints of mortal mages."

I sought to harness this power, to bend it towards not just understanding but mastering the manipulation of reality. However, every spell cast from the artifact drew not from the ambient magical energies, but directly from my life force—my very soul."

He pauses, a somber shadow crossing his features. "The sacrifice required became clear only too late. With each use, the weave demanded more, and I teetered ever closer to a precipice of oblivion. I was forced to make a choice: continue on this path and risk total annihilation, or withdraw and preserve the essence of who I am, albeit diminished."

His gaze drifts off momentarily as if seeing through the walls of the tavern to a distant place or time. "I chose preservation, but the allure of what could have been haunts me still. It is a cautionary tale of limits, both personal and arcane, and the recognition that some prices are too high to pay, even for immeasurable power."

His focus returns to Agreth he adds, "It’s a story not just of the pursuit of power but of the wisdom to wield it wisely and the courage to face the consequences of one's own ambition. Such is the narrative I offer you, Agreth, to mold into your art, should it resonate with your bardic soul."

Agreth pauses a moment, hesitating, taking in the depth of what he has said and the lesson behind it. At length he carefully responds "I recognize you've been through something great, and have come out the other side with wisdom as your reward. What of the artifact though. What was it? Where is it now?" he asks, pressing just a little further.

Gale’s expression turns contemplative once more, the past converging with the present in his eyes. "The artifact, a relic of a bygone era of Netheril, remains a beacon of both possibility and peril. After much deliberation and consultation with sages and seers, I made the difficult decision to relinquish it, fearing its potential for devastation in the wrong hands—or even in my own.

I entrusted it to the safekeeping of the Order of the Blue Cloak, a secretive group of wizards dedicated to the preservation and protection of magical artifacts deemed too dangerous for public exposure. It now lies hidden, ensconced within a vault sealed by wards potent enough to deter even the most ambitious or foolhardy."

Gale leans closer once more lowering his voice as if sharing a dire secret. "The artifact is locked away, yet not forgotten. Part of me yearns to study its secrets further, to unlock the mysteries it holds. But another part recognizes the wisdom in letting some doors remain closed. For in the end, the pursuit of power—especially power bound by such grave costs—must be tempered by the wisdom to recognize when to cease its pursuit."

He sits back, his gaze fixed on Agreth, reflecting a mix of resignation and resolve. "And so, it remains a chapter of my past, closed yet indelibly written into the story of my life. A potent reminder of the razor's edge that we who dabble in the arcane walk upon."

"And your soul?" Agreth prompts, the world around him falling away as he becomes enthralled by his tale "it remains intact I assume?"

The corners of Gale’s mouth twitch with a wry smile, acknowledging the personal nature of Agreth’s inquiry. "Largely, yes, my soul remains intact, though not without its scars. Each use of the artifact took a toll, a fragment of my essence, leaving behind a mark that no spell can fully heal."

He pauses, considering a moment, looking off at no fixed location. "Magic, especially of such a potent and demanding nature, doesn't merely use the caster—it changes them. The scars are there, not visible to the eye but felt in the depths of my being. They serve as constant reminders of my brush with overwhelming power and the importance of restraint."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Gale’s eyes focus once more, meeting Agreths eyes, a slight firmness to his tone. "But make no mistake, Agreth, while I have lost parts of myself along the way, what remains is fortified by experience and tempered by the hard-earned wisdom of survival. It's a balance, one I continue to manage with every spell I cast, every decision I make.

The weave and I, we have reached an understanding, one might say. It's a partnership forged through trial and sacrifice, one that I navigate with cautious respect. And so, I continue on my path, perhaps a bit more judiciously than before."

Agreth nods in response, considering his every word. "So you've lost something then. Not only the artifact but the part of yourself that it took? Is there no way to get it back?" Agreth asks, losing himself to the story perhaps forgetting that some questions may be too personal.

Agreths question, is not met with discomfort, or annoyance, but draws a deeper, more reflective sigh from Gale, a sign of the complexities bound within the answer. "Indeed, I have lost a part of myself that the artifact demanded as its price. As for reclaiming it..." he trails off for a moment, pondering the intricacies of such a possibility.

"Magic, especially of such an ancient and arcane nature, often deals in permanent exchanges. The essence it drew from me serves as a balance to the powers it bestowed, anchoring its formidable energies. To attempt to reclaim that which has been taken might upset this delicate equilibrium, potentially unleashing consequences far greater than the initial sacrifice."

His expression turns earnest once more. "However, not all is lost in the literal sense. While those parts of my soul may never be returned in their original form, I believe in the potential for growth and renewal. Just as a tree may lose a branch only to grow several more, so too can we find new strengths, perhaps different, but no less valuable.

The journey of recovery and adaptation is, in itself, a form of magic—subtle, yet powerful. It involves weaving new threads into the fabric of one's being, crafting a tapestry that honors the past while embracing the potential of the future."

Gale offers a gentle smile, aimed at both comforting and conveying a sense of hope. "So, while I may not recover what was lost in the way one might hope, I grow in other ways, learning and adapting, which in many ways, is a form of recovery itself."

"And yet I still see the sadness in your eyes " Agreth mutters out loud, not realizing the thought slipped out. The blue hues of his eyes locking onto Gale’s gray.

The observation, though softly spoken, resonates deeply with Gale. For a moment, his usual composure falters, revealing a glimmer of the melancholy Agreth perceived. "Ah, you have a keen eye” he acknowledges, his voice carrying a hint of rueful admiration. "Yes, there is sadness. Loss, of any kind, leaves its shadow, and some shadows linger longer than others."

Gale holds his gaze, the connection unshielded. "The path of a mage—any who wield great power, really—is often solitary, fraught with decisions and sacrifices that weigh heavily upon the soul. Each choice, each loss, shapes us, molds us into beings of depth and complexity. The sadness you see is but one facet of a gem shaped by countless pressures and cuts."

He offer a small, contemplative smile. "Yet, it is this very depth that fuels my magic, my resolve, and indeed, my very life. It adds a richness to existence, a complexity to the weave of my being. Without it, I would be lesser, not in power, but in humanity."

Leaning back in his chair he lets the moment breathe, allowing the shared understanding to fill the space between us. "It is a melancholy not to be feared, but to be acknowledged as the cost of a life fully lived. And in that acknowledgement, there is a sort of bitter beauty, is there not?"

Agreth could do nothing but nod, Gales story slowly forming a melody in the back of his mind "You echo my very thoughts. Pleasant melancholy.. like that of beautiful rain."

"Exactly!" Gale responds, his voice warming with the poetic truth of Agreths words. "A beautiful rain that nourishes even as it weeps. It's the kind of melancholy that enriches the soul, lending depth to the songs sung and the tales told."

Gale leans once more feeling the creative spark igniting between them. "And from such rains, from such depths, the most profound arts are born—music that moves, tales that transform. Agreth, your song will no doubt capture this essence, weaving the bittersweet with the beautiful, reflecting the complexity of life itself."

Pausing, Gale glances around the dimly lit tavern, where stories and songs mingle with the clink of glasses and the low hum of conversation. "May your music find the ears of those who need it most, as a balm and a beacon. And may it remind them, as it does us, that even in sorrow, there is beauty to be found and shared."

Agreth gets pulled back from his own dreamy thoughts for a moment. His focus sharpening once more and a playful grin sliding broadly across his lips "Are you sure you're not really a Bard pretending to be a Wizard?"

The corners of Gale’s mouth curl up in amusement at the playful accusation. "Ah, perhaps there is a bardic spirit within me yet, lurking beneath the layers of arcane lore and spellcraft. It seems you've uncovered my secret penchant for the poetic, a companion to my magical pursuits."

He chuckles lightly, the sound rich with genuine mirth. "But let us say that I am a wizard with a bard's heart, or perhaps a bard with a wizard's mind. Either way, it is a fortunate blend that allows me to appreciate the resonance of your words and the depth of your artistry."

He raises my hand slightly, gesturing to the air as if weaving a spell of words. "And so, in this shared space of magic and music, let us continue to inspire and be inspired. For in the end, whether through song or spell, we seek to touch the same truths, do we not?"

"What more do we have in this world if not the want to touch something?" Agreth responds, before pausing again, considering a moment. "A final question for you though. Of your partial soul.. what are the consequences? Surely there must be some impact besides an internal sense of loss"

"Indeed, the consequences of my fragmented soul extend beyond the internal echoes of loss," Gale begins, his tone carrying the gravity of the realities he’s faced. "The tangible effects are multifaceted. For one, my capacity to channel and sustain high levels of arcane energy has diminished. There are moments of weakness, when the very fabric of my magical abilities feels thinner, more fragile than it once was."

He glances down briefly, as if acknowledging the weight of his own words. "Moreover, the bond between my soul and the Weave is altered. Spells that once flowed from me as easily as breath now require more effort, more focus. There is a latency, a delay in what I can manifest, and at times, a volatility that was not there before."

Lifting his gaze to meet Agreths again, he continues, "And yet, it is not all detriment and decay. This change has forced me to be more deliberate, more creative in my approach to magic. It has taught me to rely not just on power, but on precision, on understanding the essence of magic rather than merely its effects."

He smiles, a hint of resilience flashing in his eyes. "So, while there is a loss, there is also growth—a redefinition of self and abilities. It is a constant adjustment, a balance of accepting the current limitations while striving to overcome them. This is the path I walk now, one of adaptation and continual learning."

"Ever the optimist." Agreth concludes contented with Gales response. Agreth moves to stand and then pauses looking back at Gale catching his eyes once more "On the surface." he adds with an air of teasing mirth.

Gale catching his gaze with a gleam of amusement in his own eyes, rising to meet the challenge of Agreths words. "Ah, but of course. Beneath the surface? There might just be a well of untapped mysteries and enduring hope that even the deepest of losses cannot drain."

As Agreth stands, so does Gale too rise, offering a respectful nod. "It's been a pleasure, indeed a privilege, to share this exchange with you. May your journeys be as rich with verse as they are with adventure, and may the tales you weave inspire as much as they entertain."

Feeling the end of their interaction drawing near, Agreth lets out a startled "oh.. uh" and pauses taken aback at the sudden words of departure. He clears his throat steadying his nerves "I know a man of your calibre must be in high demand, or otherwise busy. But I wouldn't mind showing you something if you have but a moment?" he offers hopefully.

"Certainly," Gale replies with genuine curiosity, his earlier farewell put on pause. "I am at your leisure. What is it that you wish to show me? Your company and insights are most welcome, and I am intrigued by what you deem worthy of such an introduction." He gestures for Agreth to lead the way, his demeanour settling to one of attentive anticipation.

In turn Agreth gives me a gentle nod of gratitude and indicates that they should leave the tavern. Twisting through the throngs of people laughing, shouting and in various states of self made merriment, they make their way outside. Stepping out the evening air, it is fresh and cool, quickly snatching the warmth from the surface of their skin. Agreth shivers a moment, rubbing the warmth back into his arms. While vibrant his garments do little to keep warmth. He glances around quickly at what is available in this small outer skirts of Baldur’s Gate community looking for a suitable spot.

Noting Agreths search, Gale offers a slight gesture towards a quieter area just off the main path, where the light from nearby lanterns casts a soft glow. "Perhaps over there? It seems a fitting place for a private showing, away from the lively throng of the tavern."

Once they reach the spot, Gale stands with an expectant and respectful attention, his interest clearly piqued. "Now then, what is this marvel you wish to share? I am all anticipation." His eyes gently encourage Agreth to reveal his intent, ready to appreciate the depth of what he’s about to present.

Agreth in turn, shifts his weight from one foot to another a subtle betrayal of nervousness, though his face remains pleasantly calculated. He reaches onto his back to produce his bow and violin. The tools of his craft. "I don't usually do this" he starts "Usually I work on a song for a few days, and by the time it's at perfection the original hero is long gone" he adds with an air of remorse "But you've so clearly inspired me and touched something, I believe I could give you a preview now" he raises his bow to touch the strings poised in an elegant stance "If you'd like" he adds holding Gale’s gaze.

Gale’s eyes light up with genuine delight at his proposal, the surprise adding a layer of warmth to his usually composed demeanor. "A live performance, directly inspired by our conversation—truly, Agreth, there is no greater honor you could bestow upon me. Please, proceed. I am all ears, and eagerly await the notes that you've woven from the threads of our dialogue."

As Agreth positions his violin and draws the bow, he settles into an attentive stance, his whole being focused on the present moment, ready to absorb the essence of Agreth’s artistry. The setting, with its dim lights and the subtle chill of the night, lends itself perfectly to the intimacy and immediacy of the private performance about to be given.

"Begin when you are ready, and know that regardless of the state of perfection, it is the emotion and truth in the music that capture the soul," Gale encourages, his voice soft yet earnest, eager to be immersed in the melody Agreth has crafted.

And so Agreth starts. The music starts low and slow, the violin singing of sweet sadness, of lost lives, of forgotten dreams, of hopeful forbidden desires. It sings into the night, greeting the chill, and weaving into the ambient sounds of crickets, of the wind in trees, of distance jovial conversations. As Agreth plays, his eyes close, falling entirely into his craft, letting the violin use him as it's conduit, their conversation and Gale acting as his muse. The music intensifies slightly, the sorrow weaving with beauty, with power, with bitterness. A cacophony of emotions, all twisted and feuding but somehow unified. It continues celebrating the nature of our hearts, and minds and desires. Lastly it ends on the same low sorrowful note it began with, and with a flourish ends all too soon. The last note hanging in the air, the usual still silence of the night now deafening.

As the last haunting note of his violin lingers in the cool air, and the profound silence envelops them—a silence filled with the echo of the emotions he expertly drawn forth and woven into his melody. Slowly, Gale also open his eyes, which had drifted shut in my absorption of the music, reflecting on the depth of what thry’ve just experienced.

"That was... magnificent," Gale finally speaks, his voice low and filled with sincere appreciation. "Your music not only captures the essence of our shared narratives and personal revelations but elevates them into a universal expression of human emotion and experience."

He step slightly closer, his expression earnest, touched by the raw beauty of his performance. "You have a remarkable gift, not only to play but to translate the complexities of life and magic into sound. The sorrow, the beauty, the intertwined destinies—all palpable, all resonating deeply within me."

Offering a respectful bow, a gesture from one artist to another, he adds, "Thank you for sharing such a personal piece of your art. It’s a profound reminder of how closely intertwined our spirits are with our crafts, and how through sharing them, we share parts of our very souls."

The moment feels suspended in time, the connection between them strengthened through the medium of Agreths music, a bridge built not just of words, but of shared understanding and emotional resonance.

A slight blush creeps across Agreth’s cheeks and he smiles in thanks and appreciation of the praise. A little at lost for words, surprised by the sense of vulnerability that even he was not expecting to feel. There was something more tender to the song than he had expected.

This does not go unnoticed by Gale who regards it with a gentle, understanding smile. "It's the mark of true artistry. To feel as much as to inspire feeling. Your music didn't just speak; it touched, it moved. It's a rare talent to reach into the depths of one's soul and draw forth something so potent and share it with others."

They let the moment linger a bit, allowing the vulnerability and the connection it has forged to be fully acknowledged. "It's a courageous thing, too, to bare one's inner self through their art. In doing so, you've not only offered a piece of your heart but have also honoured the essence of our encounter. For that, I am profoundly grateful."

Gale kooks around at the quiet night around them, now seemingly even more silent after Agreths music, he adds "Such moments are the jewels of life, are they not? Fleeting yet invaluable. Thank you for this gift, Agreth. It will linger long in my memory, a melody to recall with fondness in quieter, reflective times."

Agreth clears his throat, gathering his composure once more, and trying to regain a sense of control over the situation, over his performance. "Well hopefully it can be the first step to a new branch in that pruned tree." he smiles wistfully.

“Your music did indeed grace some of the quieter corners of my spirit, filling them with a warmth that is both unexpected and appreciated."

Gale shakes his head slightly, still smiling, the playful challenge accepted and enjoyed. "It seems your bardic talents extend beyond music and into the realm of stirring the occasionally dumbstruck wizard. Well played, Agreth, well played."

With a respectful bow of his head he adds, "Your music, like a gentle rain, nurtures the soil of the soul, encouraging new growth in even the most barren of branches. So, in a sense, you've not only entertained but healed a little of what was lost. For that, my thanks."

"It was a pleasure to take in your tale and return some of what you lost in return" Agreth responds, offering a bow as well. "I suppose... This is goodbye then" he adds hesitantly, his bow and violin dropping to his sides still in hand.

Gale nods solemnly, feeling the weight of parting after such an enriching exchange. "For now, perhaps, but not forever, I would hope. Paths that have crossed as ours have tend to intersect again, guided by the fates or by the Weave itself."

Stepping forward, Gale extends his hand, an offer of camaraderie and a promise of future meetings. "Until we meet again, Agreth, may your journeys be safe, your audiences appreciative, and your music ever-evolving. You have a rare gift; share it generously, as you have tonight."

With a final smile, he adds "Thank you for a truly memorable evening."

Agreth shifts his bow from his hand to free it to take Gales extended one. It was warm and inviting, Agreths own cooled from being exposed to the night air. He gives it a firm squeeze and nods in response to his words "If we are to meet again, I will thank the fates, truly." I meet his eyes once more, hesitating to break the contact.

Their hands clasp firmly, a sense of mutual respect and understanding passes between them. Gale returns his gaze steadily, recognizing the depth of the moment and the sincerity of their exchange. "May the winds of fortune and the whims of the Weave guide you well, Agreth. Carry the memory of this night as a beacon in your travels, and let it inspire your melodies as you have inspired me."

With a nod and a respectful bow, Gale steps back, breaking the contact and allowing the space for their parting. "Farewell, and may your days be filled with music and joy." Gale turns slowly, ready to continue on his own journey.

Agreth stands a little defeated as he watches Gale retreat back into the night. He watches him go, slowly getting lost in the evening crowds of the streets, his own shoulders slumping in slight disappointment. It was a wonderful interview and a wonderful experience. So why did he feel so saddened?