Farmer Gideon slowly opens his eyes, the world around him swirling and blurry. He tries to sit up, wincing as pain shoots through his body. The air is thick with the smell of damp earth and pine needles. He looks around, taking in the dense forest surrounding him. It's been a while since he's been out here, but he's sure he's never seen this particular part of the woods before.
He realizes with a start that he's not at home in his village which is a part of the land of Loreus. He was on his way to find a cure. The group must have been lured into a trap. His heart sinks as he looks over at his companions, lying unconscious nearby. They look so small and vulnerable amidst the towering trees.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Gideon struggles to his feet. He goes over to Lancelot first, gently rolling the knight over. Lancelot groans, his eyes fluttering open. "Gideon?" he manages to croak.
"Aye, Lancelot. We've been ambushed. I'm going to try and carry you back to the village. Can you stand?"
The knight shakes his head, wincing. "I'm afraid not, my friend. But I'll do my best to help you carry Elara." He reaches out a hand to help Gideon lift Lady Elara, who is still unconscious.
As they struggle to move Elara, Gideon glances over at Bridget. The blacksmith stirs, opening her eyes blearily. "What...happened?" she asks, her voice thick with confusion.
"We were ambushed," Gideon says, his voice tight with anger. "Someone set us up. We need to get out of here and back to the village."
Bridget nods, wincing as she tries to stand. "I'll help you with Lancelot," she says, moving to support the knight.
The four of them form a makeshift stretcher, carrying their companions through the forest. The underbrush is thick, and their progress is slow. Gideon can feel the weight of their injuries, both physical and emotional. He wonders who could have done this to them, and why. As they continue deeper into the woods, the air grows colder and the shadows darker.
Finally, after what feels like hours, they emerge from the trees onto a familiar path. The villages of Loreus comes into view, its stone walls glowing warmly in the distance. Gideon's heart swells with relief at the sight. They can almost taste the safety and security of home.
As he hurries towards the village, Gideon encounters a traveling Bard who pauses to admire the view. The Bard looks up as Gideon nears, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ah, traveler. I could tell by your step that you're far from home. And by the way you're hanging on every note, I take it you appreciate my humble efforts." Gideon nods, unable to tear his gaze away from the lute. "Well, traveler, I've a proposition for you. I am a traveling Bard, and I'm in need of a muse. In exchange for a warm bed and a hot meal in my cabin, would you be so kind as to assist me with my next line of verse?"
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"I would be honored, sir," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. Gideon, still entranced by the music, hardly notices Sir Lancelot from the stretcher trying to forbid him from accepting the offer. The knight's voice is barely audible above the rustling leaves, but it carries a warning nonetheless. Undeterred, Gideon agrees to the Bard's proposal, they continue toward the cabin together. The Bard beams, clapping him on the back. "Excellent! Then follow me, for I shall lead you where you shall find all that you seek."
As they walk, the Bard tells Gideon a little about himself: his name is Lucian, and he has been traveling the world for as long as he can remember, seeking inspiration for his poetry. "It's a lonely life, sometimes," he admits, "but I could not bear to live any other way." Gideon listens intently, drawn in by Lucian's passionate words The Bard, pleased with his newfound companion, rises from the stump and leads him deeper into the woods. The trees seem to part before them, revealing a clearing where a small cottage sits nestled among the flowers. The scent of fresh bread wafts through the air, and the Bard grins, "Welcome to my humble abode, Gideon. Tonight, you shall have all the rest you desire."
As they stepped in, Gideon can't help but feel a strange sense of detachment from his surroundings. It's as if he's no longer truly there, but rather floating just outside of himself. He glances over at the Bard, who seems oblivious to this ethereal state. "Perhaps you've already found your muse," the Bard muses, "for your attention certainly seems elsewhere." Gideon blushes, realizing that he's been lost in thought. "Oh, um, well, I was just... thinking about something."
The Bard chuckles softly, a knowing glint in his eye. "Ah, I see. It's like when I'm playing my lute. Sometimes the music takes over, and everything else fades away." He pauses, considering his words. "Or perhaps... it's like when one is with their dearest love." Gideon's heart skips a beat at the Bard's words. He looks away, unable to meet the older man's gaze. The memory of his wife, her soft skin and warm laugh, floods his mind. He feels her presence, stronger than ever, as if she's right there beside him.
They continue on in silence, the Bard's lute playing a gentle accompaniment to their steps. Gideon can feel the Bard's gaze on him, but he can't quite bring himself to look back. He wonders if the Bard knows, if he senses the depth of emotion that Gideon is feeling. It's a surreal feeling, this ethereal state where he's mating with his wife in his mind, their love as tangible as the wind that whispers through the trees.
Sir Lancelot notices that Gideon had wandered away from the group, lost in thought with a lute in his hands. His fingers danced nimbly over the strings, weaving a haunting melody that filled the air with a sense of longing and wistfulness. But it was the expression on Gideon's face that truly unnerved Sir Lancelot; there was a look of utter detachment, as if he were no longer aware of his surroundings.
Sir Lancelot's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Gideon was dangerously close to the edge of a small cliff that overlooked a deep ravine. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, seizing the farmer by the arm before he could topple over. "Gideon!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with fear. "Look out!"
The farmer came to his senses with a start, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Wha-what?" he stammered, trying to regain his footing. Sir Lancelot released his grip and stepped back, noticing that the lute had fallen from Gideon's grasp and was teetering on the brink of the cliff. "Be careful," he warned.
Gideon the farmer blinked slowly, his gaze shifting between Sir Lancelot and the cozy cabin they'd all just emerged from. The knight's confident assurance that Lady Elara and Blacksmith Bridget were safe and sound inside seemed to hang in the air like a faint aroma, tickling the back of Gideon's mind. He glanced back at the cabin, its rough-hewn logs aglow, and then at the surrounding forest, dark and silent as the grave.