As Lance handed out drink after drink, his thoughts began to wander. Unanswered questions bubbled to the surface: How do you make a feather float? What kind of magic would work best? Wait... did I spill something on my pants?

He glanced down at his trousers.

"Oh dear. Well, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it, Lance?" William’s voice echoed in his head, dripping with amusement.

Heat rushed to Lance’s face as he hastily grabbed a rag, intent on wiping it clean. But before he could start, his boss's booming voice cut through the clamor of the bar.

"Lance! You’ve been distracted lately. Get your wits together, boy! Today’s gonna be busy. We’ve got a bard comin’ in—an' not just any bard—this one’s magic!"

The mention of a magical bard jolted Lance from his thoughts. His curiosity flared. "Got it, Brokkr," he responded quickly, shoving his other concerns aside.

He moved with renewed urgency, scrubbing down tables and ensuring glasses sparkled as the trickle of patrons turned into a steady stream. The tavern buzzed with activity, and Lance flitted between tables, taking orders and chatting with customers.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room, so abrupt it was almost unsettling. Only a faint murmur lingered.

All eyes turned to the center of the bar as Brokkr strode purposefully into the open space. He raised his hands for attention, though the crowd hardly needed it.

"Lads and lasses," Brokkr began, his booming voice full of showmanship. "Today, we’re honored to welcome an incredible bard to our humble tavern! Please put your hands together for... Cedric Silvervoice!"

The tavern erupted into cheers, whistles, and the stomping of boots on the wooden floor.

Into the center of the crowd stepped a young man, radiant with charisma. His golden-brown hair caught the flickering light, and an easy smile played on his lips. In his hands, he carried a lyre that seemed almost alive, shimmering faintly with a soft magical glow. Cedric took his time, scanning the room with practiced ease before settling onto a stool at the center.

"Good evening, friends!" Cedric’s voice rang out, smooth as silk. "It’s an honor to be here tonight. I hope to bring you songs that will make you laugh, cry, and maybe even... inspire."

The crowd quieted, leaning in expectantly. Lance found himself pausing mid-task, his arms full of empty mugs, to watch the bard. The way Cedric carried himself, the subtle movements of his hands, the energy radiating from his presence—it was almost hypnotic.

Cedric plucked a single string of the lyre, and the note that resonated was nothing short of magical. It hung in the air, shimmering, as though it carried some sort of spell with it.

Cedric’s fingers danced across the strings of the lyre, weaving a melody so enchanting it seemed to pull the very air around it. As he struck a higher note, something extraordinary happened—a small wooden tankard floated off a nearby table, spinning lazily in time with the music.

The audience gasped, and a ripple of laughter and awe swept through the room. The bard grinned, clearly enjoying the reaction. With a flick of his wrist and a quick series of sharp notes, the tankard hovered higher before gently settling back onto the table.

Lance blinked, stunned. He’d seen magic, of course, but never quite like this—subtle, precise, and completely integrated with the bard’s instrument.

"Impressive, isn’t it?" William’s voice rang through Lance’s thoughts, uncharacteristically calm.

"Yeah," Lance whispered, still fixated on Cedric. "What kind of magic was that?"

"Vibration magic, and finely tuned, too. He’s using the lyre to amplify his control. Instead of raw power, he’s carefully modifying basic spells—looks like he combined a Gale Pulse with fine Vibration Manipulation to create an enhanced levitation effect."

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"Magic... from an instrument?" Lance frowned. He knew vibration magic could interact with sound, but this seemed almost too seamless.

"Exactly. He’s channeling his magic through the lyre, almost as if the instrument is part of him. It’s rare to see someone with that kind of control." William let out a low whistle of appreciation. "That bard knows his craft. Makes you look like an amateur, doesn’t it?"

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he couldn’t deny the truth in William’s words. "I’m just getting started, alright? I’ll get there."

"We’ll see," William teased, but his tone was softer than usual.

Cedric continued to play, switching between haunting ballads and lively jigs, each one laced with subtle displays of magic—a flicker of light here, a gust of wind there. The audience was utterly captivated, but Lance watched with a more discerning eye, focusing on the way the magic and music intertwined.

When the performance finally ended, the tavern erupted into applause. Cedric rose from his stool with a flourishing bow, a satisfied smile on his face. He exchanged a few words with Brokkr, who clapped him on the back and began herding eager patrons away to give the bard some breathing room.

Lance hesitated for a moment, then squared his shoulders and approached.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice quieter than he intended.

Cedric turned, his golden-brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Ah, one of the tavern staff. Lance, isn’t it?"

Lance blinked in surprise. "You... know my name?"

Cedric chuckled, strumming a soft chord on his lyre. "Of course. I make it a habit to notice those who keep the places I perform running smoothly. Now, what’s on your mind, lad?"

edric looked up, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Aren’t you the mop master himself. Nice serving out there—only spilled one drink tonight, right? New record?”

Lance’s face burned. “Actually, I didn’t—well, okay, maybe one, but that’s not the point—”

Cedric laughed, leaning back in his chair as his lyre let out an accidental twang. “Relax, mate. I’m just messing with you. So, what can Cedric Silvervoice, the humble but devastatingly talented bard, do for you tonight?”

William’s voice immediately chimed in, dripping with amusement. “I like this guy already. Can we keep him?”

Lance ignored him, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to ask about your performance. The magic, specifically. How you made that tankard float—”

Cedric’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, that? Pure skill, my friend. Years of practice, untold natural talent, and—” he leaned in conspiratorially, dropping his voice to a whisper, “a deal with the gods themselves.”

Lance blinked. “Wait, what?”

The bard burst out laughing, nearly tipping over his chair. “Kidding! Seriously, you’re too easy. It’s vibration magic. Basic stuff, really, but I gave it a little flair. It’s all about control, you know?”

William, still thoroughly entertained, quipped, “This is gold. Never stop talking to him.”

Lance took a breath, steeling himself. “Could you... maybe teach me how you did it?”

That seemed to catch Cedric off guard for a moment, but he quickly recovered, tapping his chin in exaggerated thought. “Hmm, let me think. Teach the guy who just admitted to spilling drinks on the job how to precisely control magical vibrations? What could go wrong?”

“I—look, it’s just—I’m trying to learn. And I really don’t have time for this,” Lance said, crossing his arms in irritation.

Cedric’s teasing demeanor softened, though the grin never fully left his face. “Alright, listen. You’ve got to figure this out yourself, mate. Magic isn’t something you just copy from someone else. It’s personal. You have to experiment, fail, and occasionally blow things up in spectacular fashion.”

Lance sighed, deflating slightly. “So you won’t help me?”

“Not exactly,” Cedric said, spinning his lyre on one finger. “I’ll give you a nudge in the right direction. Like this: Next time you want to make something float, don’t think of it like fighting gravity. Think of it like catching the wind beneath it. Gentle, steady... like a melody.”

William’s voice came back, still amused but with a note of intrigue. “Huh. Surprisingly insightful for a guy who just chugged half a tankard.”

“Don’t overthink it,” Cedric added, finishing his beer. . “And hey—if you need help, come and find me.” He clapped Lance on the shoulder and walked off, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Well, that went better than expected,” William said. “Turns out Cedric’s not just a pretty face. Still, doesn’t sound like he’s going to hand you any easy answers.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Lance muttered. He picked up a rag and went back to wiping the tables.