I'd been heading towards a distant thread of smoke glamour for an hour. It carried with it a thread of the scent of food. I approached slowly, aiming for a mortal pace. My veil up, and hiding my glamour.

To aid in my mortal guise, I'd found to my delight I could alter my outfit a little, the palette was limited, and there was a certain theatricality that the clothes refused to part with. That meant I now wore a serviceable ash-grey coat, trimmed with red squirrel fur.

I'd found a small serviceable pack with my few possessions within. Of my clothes, I'd thrown all but the silk hair tie away. That I'd rebound my hair with. The long hair was staying for the moment, it did help sell the troubadour vibe. I also had the stubble of several days' worth of growth, implying my time telling my story had been far longer than I recalled, or I'd slept longer in those wildflowers than I'd suspected.

I had found a road ten minutes or so ago and was proceeding towards a bridge. To the side of which sat a camp. A huge knight sat before a tent made of stone, a sure sign of an earth cultivator. His armour was chainmail but it sat over skin that looked almost like marble. That implied he was high enough rank for his glamour to be affecting his body. A feat that normally only happened at Iron rank.

He'd seem mighty threatening if he wasn't fumbling the cooking of a rabbit.

It looked to be going poorly. While cooking was not a skill I'd ever developed, I did feel certain that the food and coals were not supposed to be touching.

“Stupid bloody thing, first time I catch a…” He looked up. I waved. “Shit, hang on.” The brute stood, grabbing a warhammer with a head the size of my own. He scrambled to the centre of the bridge and then called out.

“Halt who goes there.” His voice was booming, reverberating across the forest and its smattering of snow.

“Taliesin, wandering troubador.” The name leapt to my lips, feeling far more natural than Regus ever had. That was some fae sorcery that I added to the pile of mysteries to investigate later.

“State your business.”

“My business right now is allowing you to save your lunch. It appears to be both in and on fire.”

“Shit!” He began to fumble with his blade and shield so I ran over to his rapidly blackening rabbit, and with quick hands managed to pull it from the fire. Letting it rest on a nearby stone. I sucked at my fingers as if burned.

“Is it okay?”

“I think it just needs the black bits cut off and it will be fine.” We both looked at the rabbit, which was more coal than crispy. The larger man let out a deep chuckle. “I'm sorry to have ruined your lunch, I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

“No, no, I'd done that plenty fine myself. Taliesen was it?”

“Yes indeed.”

“I'm Bors, Knight Errant. Don't suppose you've come here to challenge me in a contest of martial prowess?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Would you accept a blistering battle of barbs?”

“And lose? Well maybe that'd be for the best, then you can have the damn bridge.” He grunted and sat down, gesturing to a rock nearby for me to use. “Damn and from the look of you nothing worth asking for in toll.”

He looked me over. I held up my new lute. “I could compose a song?”

“Can't eat a song. I don't even want sodding coin, I just want something to fill my belly. Look, I'll be honest this whole bridge gig is a total waste of time. Two months I've been here, and only four fights I've had. Well other than the fae beasts, which always seem to wait till I've gone for kip.”

“You're out here alone in the wilds?”

“I'm a Knight Errant, we wander, in search of noble quests to further our cultivation. Free of the oppression of the Knightly Orders, seeking to further our banners! To fight the insidious corruption of the Divine Cultivators” His voice drifted into a mono-tone that I recognized as rote learning.

“Sounds like a nice carefree way of life.” I offered, honestly a single fight a month sounded like a luxury. I did twitch at the mention of divine cultivators, I'd had enough of them with the Harkleys.

“Well it is till some Order thugs get wind of you, then it's all ‘noble squire’ this and that. I don't mind that too much, at least then you tend to get a fair few fights in one go.” He grinned “Arty though, he said we had to stop beating up the orders round here, otherwise they'll send some Knight Captain after us. He stuck me with this bridge till they could handle something delicate.”

“Sounds like a rough job.”

“Oh, you don't know the half of it! No one told me you had to stick with your bridge all the fae-cursed time, leaving it alone is a big no-no. Means I can't go far for hunting or pop to town, and I've hunted everything about me. Last bastard I challenged had half an empty wineskin and nought else but hunting gear, then had the gall to complain to me about the lack of food about. Ended up killing the daft sod when he demanded compensation, and that was after I beat him the first time!” I chuckled at the huge man's frustration, and could totally believe he'd decimated the local forest feeding his giant frame.

The Knight Errant continued to complain, he seemed to be enjoying my company, probably as starved for it as he was food. Iron-level cultivators, which he certainly felt like, could survive for long periods without food but it was by all accounts a miserable existence.

As he continued to rant about why he hated bridges a fresh idea formed. I still needed to eat, but I also wanted to talk to someone. Someone other than the otherworldly fae with lakes for eyes.

I looked over Bors, who I was certain from the weight of his glamour was Iron cultivator. His face was young which didn't mean much, but his manner didn't suit those who took their time reaching that level, which meant he was likely quite talented. I was, despite only ascending yesterday, mid-bronze rank. Which was an unbelievable rate of growth, enabled by an equally improbable string of events. I was very technically skilled with the blade but lacked the experience he no doubt had.

In short, he could obliterate me if he so wished. Equally, as he'd not even give the lute a second look there was no reason for me to suspect he sensed anything of value on me, nor would he suspect I would be carrying something worth his time. He'd also so helpfully told me what he really wanted.

Time to make friends.

“Bors, I may have a solution to your worries. I must also reveal a small deception.”

“If you actually have food this won't go well for you.”

“I'm Taliesin, a cultivating bard.” I allowed my veil to rise. Bors choked and gave me the once over, he considered me carefully and for a moment I was worried I'd misjudged the situation.

“That's a fancy trick. How does being a bard work for cultivating though?”

“Still working that bit out.” I smiled, but he still seemed unsure. “What I mean to say is I would prefer to cultivate mostly through things beyond combat, I'm far from useless. If you lend me a bow and arrow, I could go hunt and you can avoid leaving your bridge.”

“Well pluck me, stuff me, and call me dinner. Lead with that next time!” The grin returned and he clapped me on the back, sending me stumbling.