The siblings shared a meal, some roasted chicken, and a side of potatoes. Al offered to purchase separate meals, but they declined. It seemed like some sort of ritual between the two. A truly melodic sound soon accompanied their meal. It was coming from the simple wooden stage, deeper into the inn.

Casting their collective gazes to the sound's origin. They noticed a figure seated before his audience. He was playing an instrument that resembled a harp. Three facts were obviously apparent. The first was that the man was handsome, as in far more handsome than the norm. Dark piercing eyes, perfectly parted brunette hair, along with a face that belonged on a romance novel. Perfectly symmetrical features, not to square jaw, yet not to round.

The second fact was composing the audience, almost entirely composed of women. They were gazing up at the man, like he was the lead singer of a boy band. The men seated behind the wide-eyed women were clearly not happy. They scowled at the man like he was scum in their eyes.

The third fact was of greater importance. The man, musician or bard, Al, was not up on the terminology. He was indeed playing a bit of music and singing along. What he was singing was most intriguing. Not some song about an epic battle centuries ago, nor a love ballad about some princess.

It was a song Al recognised. Love Me Softly by Elvis Presley, a personal favourite of his. He didn’t know how this song came to appear in this world. Given existing summoned heroes, it's possible one of them brought it over. It was pleasant to hear, reminded him of his younger years with his family. The road trip to San Bernardino, his father, used to blast the greatest hits all the way through.

Leaning back in his chair, sipping his drink, enjoying the nostalgia. The rest of the table shifted their focus. Felix was curious, yet Joan flushed visibly. Was he that handsome? Al thought, eyeing Joan with a frown.

He wanted to chalk this up to the normal teenage girl crush thing. But given the state of the women around this place. He checked on things, couldn’t hurt. Reaching below the table, manifesting an old pair of fake prescription glasses. Putting them on, he gave the room the once over. Through the filtered lens, the situation became clear.

A strange aura, reminiscent of a pinkish mist, pervaded the room. It centred around the bard on stage, reaching out, only to be inhaled by those of the female persuasion. The men inhaled this mist, only for it to fizzle out around them. He thought of a charm spell. It was clearly some sort of magic. Yet he could not detect any spells in effect. Either magic was very divergent from his own in this world, or the bard was naturally emitting these effects.

It was an intriguing puzzle, something he would love to uncover. Given the current time constraints, he had little time to investigate this. Perhaps this fellow was up for a chat after he finishes the set. The table settled into a routine of glancing back at the singer. Eventually turning around and permanently taking in the show.

The siblings both had varied looks. Joan was going all fan girls, while the music, less the man, entranced Felix. Al enjoyed the singing, the man had talent. He wondered if his enjoyment resulted from that entrancing aura he emitted. Observing it making its way to him, he discreetly sent an air current, dispersing it.

In that moment, he realised it was a physical phenomenon, along with a magical one. Several theories raced through his mind. One stuck out and so he decided on several tests. Wiping up another air current, he guided it towards their resident undead. As expected, it didn’t even bother the man without a heartbeat or a need to breathe.

With this experiment a success, he sent the current towards Joan. Circulating an air current around her head. Dispersing the phenomena again, he noticed an immediate response. Shaking her head as if coming out of a daze, she looked puzzled for a second. Removing the protective shield, the phenomenon returned, and the dazzled look came flooding back.

It was indeed some sort of pheromone, possibly magically charged ones. If that was the case, what would that make the bard? These thoughts flittered through his mind, yet he could not divine an answer. So, he waited and listened. The bard moved through Elvis’s greatest hits like one hell of a cover band.

he reached the end of his music set. Once that was obvious, Al enacted his plan. It was a move he had tested several times during the ride up here. He recalled the amusing pranks he pulled on his fellow caravan patrons. Projecting his voice through the air and whispering into the ears of distant individuals. Using this same skill, sending a message to the bard. “Greetings, quite the trick you have there. Your charm is downright supernatural.” Whispering, those words carried along the wind.

Before he can rise, the bard's head tilted to the side, listening. After a few seconds, his gaze cast frantically across the room. Noticing the adoring fans before settling on Al. Raising his mug in greeting, before downing its contents. The bard narrowed his gaze. It appeared as if he was contemplating something. Likely surprised or concerned, he shook his head before exiting the stage.

He didn’t immediately come over to the table. He had fans to placate and women to swoon. Both sides exchanged a few glances, remaining indifferent to each other. The night wound down, patrons left the inn or retired to their sleeping arrangements. Felix, Joan left some time ago, trailed by Alek.

Soon after, only Al with a fresh mug of semi-scotch, a few drunk patrons, and the bard remained. He tore himself away from some adoring fans, promising them a private showing. The mesmerised woman was beautiful and noticeably single compared to the rest. The women that had male or female companions had quickly exited. It was likely they felt threatened by the bard's charm.

He arrived at the table, his gaze inspecting the second mug. Al pushed the beverage forward, offering a seat. He took the offer with a smile and descended. Raising the mug to his nose, he gave it a quick sniff. The scent delighted his face and soon he was taking a long gulp. “Neat trick you can do.” He commented, alluding to Al's prior feat of magic.

The wizard chuckled at the bard, finding the statement ironic. “You're not so bad yourself. I have never seen magic like that.” He complimented, genuinely perplexed at how the bard was doing it.

The bard found his words odd and so answered the stranger. “Magic? I am not performing any spells. I am no wizard.” He explained.

“Really, does that mean you do that instinctually? Some sort of charm magic you can enact by will?” Al queried, becoming interested.

The bard thought it over before replying. It might be instinctual, but it's not a charm spell. I wouldn’t know the first thing about magic. I never had an interest in it.” He explained further.

The answer confused Al, if this man had no formal or informal magical training. It would mean that this was a biological trait or a magical trait. Thinking over the facts laid out before him, he realised two things. First, this bard was likely not human, at least not completely. Second, whatever he is, they can emit some magically charged pheromone to influence people.

His own history on Matesh had him encounter many species. The only ones he recalled that could influence people were sirens. Although they had some differences, they bore a resemblance to the beings of Greek myth. They didn’t dwell in lakes or oceans and had no connection to sea life. They can charm both men with their voices. Manipulating the minds of mortals required poetry, not song. The Nel-Tamun, they were called. It meant the lurer of men in the old tongue. Al met a few. Those encounters varied from hostile to pleasant.

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Al found it challenging to determine the species of this fellow. This only made him more curious. Along with a voracious appetite for magic, his hunger for knowledge was even greater. He felt an itch in his right hand to document the encounter. His bestiary was one of the few treasures he kept from Matesh. He filled it with every piece of magical knowledge he had gained. Spells, runes, descriptions of monsters and species he had encountered.

Felix was quite the boon, his upire race filled a few pages. Alek did as well, his undead sub race now classified as Nosferatu, named after the undead from earth myth. Another species that originated in Matesh bore resemblances to both the Upire and Nosferatu. The chapter on the Von-Tyr, as they were called, is quite extensive. Perhaps he will let Felix read it someday, perhaps not.

For now, a new species intrigued him. Whatever this discount Elvis was, Al wanted to know. Still, another fact pulled his interest away. “I assume you know about the king?” He asked, a cheeky smile on his face.

The bard returned in kind, replying in a faux-Elvis impression. “Your damn right I know about his majesty, the king of rock and roll.” His words reminded Al of those Las Padros Elvis impressionists. Not that bad. “If that is the king you are referring to?” He left the question hang in the air.

Nodding in affirmation, Al confirmed that was indeed the monarch he spoke of. “Your Heartbreak Hotel was not bad. But damn, did Love Me Tender hit me right in the feels?” He complimented.

The two raised their drinks in salute, taking a sip in unison. “I'm guessing you're not a local, or perhaps you have met a traveler of sorts?” The bard queried, alluding to something.

“I've traveled.” He answered vaguely.

The bard mulled over that response, likely thinking on the pros and cons. Eventually, he decided. “I see. Well then, I am most interested in you. As you are to me, at least I expect so.” He remarked, eyeing his opposite. His table companion nodded, prompting him to continue. “I suppose introductions are in order. The name is Arthur Belphegor Collins. You may call me Arthur, please to meet...” Letting that final word hang, following his introduction.

Al mulled over the name provided. It was both what he expected and not so. “Alistair Abraham Klark, call me Al. It is a pleasure.” He returned, introducing an outstretched hand.

Catching on, Arthur clasped hands in a very earth-like handshake. The two nodded, an unspoken understanding formed between them. “So, Al, I take it you are one of the so-called heroic trinity the Empire is harping on about?” He asked, a little sarcastically.

“Not even close.” Al replied vaguely.

This caused Arthur to pause and think over his next few words. Leaning back in his chair, he chuckled, sipping his drink. “Are you familiar with the term quid pro quo? Specifically, I ask you an answer, you ask I answer.” Arthur inquired, getting a nod in return. “Excellent, I will start. How did you get to this world?” He asked, starting a little tit for tat.

“Through a summoning spell. My turn, what are you?” He answered simply, before inquiring.

“I am merely a humble bard. Did the wizards of Helgos summon you?” Glancing around conspiratorially.

“No. What species are you, then?” He countered.

“I am a flesh, a blood human, mostly.” Arthur answered, trailing off with a smile. "How did you get the name Abraham?" He questioned, changing the topic.

"It's from the Bible. What about you? Belphegor is the name of a demon, if I'm not mistaken."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You know about uncle Belly?" He asked, surprised.

"Uncle? Are you inferring you are related to a demon from biblical myth?" Al queried.

Taken aback, Arthur felt flustered and knew he had just goofed. "Well, I mean... Um." A Loss for Words, he tried to find them.

"So, your part demon and with those weird pheromones you would be... No way, you're not an incubus, are you?" He deduced, a grin slowly manifesting. "I right, aren't I? Oh, I'm going to fill an entire chapter on you." He muttered, prompting the incubus to stare, worried. "Never mind that. Still, I am intrigued. I knew demons existed, but not the notorious sex demons of myth." He spoke, near giddy with excitement.

"Were not just sex demons, that's very reductive." He replied, genuinely offended.

“I apologise. Perhaps you can enlighten me?” Al requested, leaning under the table and pulling out a worn journal. “Let’s have some privacy shall we?” He remarked, waving his finger in a circular motion.

Constructing a barrier around the table, muffling sound. The skill was one he became proficient in during his long trek north. A few weeks with a caravan, boredom setting in and he was never one for idle hands. Sound barrier in place, they began their dialogue in earnest.

“Incubus, humanoid species related to extra-dimensional demons. Wait, your demonic ancestors, are they natives?” Jotting down some notes, he queried the flustered incubus.

“I heard myths. They were from the demon realm.” He answered, not sure why he did so.

"Not locals." Good to know. It would make sense. There are myths about demons, even on Earth.

“You said you are mostly human?” He asked rhetorically. “That would mean you are some sort of hybrid, cambion perhaps?” The question was not rhetorical.

Still not understanding why he was answering. Their quid pro quo had suddenly broken down with this man's rapid-fire questions. “Um, my father was human, so I guess so.” He answered. “Wait a minute, why am I telling you this? What about our quid pro quo?” He asked, almost indignantly.

Al looked up from his writing. He had an abashed expression. “Oh yes, I apologise. But perhaps we can play a different game.” He suggested, withdrawing another article from thin air. Placing the rectangular object on the table and pushing it forward. “This is an MP3 Player. The MP3 Player contains the greatest hits of many artists from the 50s to the early 2000s. “Now, if you would answer a few questions, this marvel of earth technology can be yours.” The offer was clear, and Arthur was indeed interested.

He glanced at the MP3 player, not surprised; in fact, he seemed eager to get it. “You have yourself a deal. What do you want to know?” He answered almost immediately, reaching out to grab his prize.

Al let him claim it, but not before retracting the spare batteries. He smiled at the eager incubus, pulling the package away. “Let’s begin. How about your ancestry? Your father was human yes, your mother was a demon, I assume?” He asked.

“She was a succubus, yes; my father was a wizard or a sorcerer by Ikarus standards.” Arthur replied, his gaze crawling over his new toy.

“Interesting, so your mother is a demon. Does she feed on sex or life force like the myth says?” He inquired, scribbling a few notes down.

Shaking his head, Arthur looked annoyed. “I suppose she can do that. But there is so much more to being succubi or incubi.” He spoke indignantly, trying to correct an injustice as he saw it. “I suppose the best way to explain it is we can feed on many energies? The emotional spectrum is one of them, life force is another and yes, we can feed on sex.” Explaining his people's nature, he begrudgingly accepted some truth in the myth.

“Does that mean it is a preference for incubi?” He asked.

“Not really a preference, but you can call it that. We have our leanings towards what is the most nutritious, if that makes sense.” Explaining, he shrugged.

“And what leanings do you have, perchance?” Smiling, he asked the obvious question.

Arthur didn’t want to answer. His embarrassment was plain as day. “Well, I mean, it’s nothing as crass as simple sex. I think I have a far more discerning palate, to feed off the lover as she feeds from me.” He spoke, letting a little of the poet come out. “Still in a fashion, yes I feed from my lovers. I think they are most satisfied with what I provide.” He smiled, giving a slight wink.

Al felt taken aback for a single second. He knew in that moment, if he were to swing that way, this guy would be at the top of his list. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze to the journal, writing in earnest. “So, I guess you use your unique pheromone in your performance. It is most potent for those that don’t notice. Impressive indeed.” Delivering a compliment, Arthur nodded, accepting the praise. “Given your statement of your lineage. I am curious though, does your mother still have residence in this world?” He asked, eminently more curious.

Tilting his head, he thought over the question. Eventually, he decided and replied. “Yes, my dear mother is still in residence. Last time I saw her, she had returned to her homeland of Akathulu.” Caressing the MP3 player, he dropped the name of the apparent land of demons. Noticing Al's confusion, Arthur explained. “Ah yes, you are not a local. The forest of Akathulu is the ancestral domain of the succubi. It is their sovereign realm. It is not an official member of the federation, but it borders the capital of Demonus, to the southwest of it and north of the republic.” Explaining the geo-political situation, the location was now marked on Al's internal map.

As he thought about the situation, he felt satisfied. At least for now, he satisfied his curiosity. With many more pages to fill, the two settled into a more leisurely chat. They both traded comments on their respective situations and wrote a few more paragraphs. Arthur did not mind being the subject of study. Al handed him an enchanted piece of parchment, instructing him to write when he needs batteries so they can make a new deal.

In the end, the two parted company. Arthur had ladies in need of his attention. While Al had sleep to catch up on. They exchanged final pleasantries, Arthur stating he will travel the Empire, singing his songs. Al would travel north to discover the mysteries. The night ended with two men smiling and wishing each other well.