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The Lonely Bard
Chapter 22: A Bard's Farewell

Chapter 22: A Bard's Farewell

🎵: Dreadful Dirge, Rise of the Iron Will, Wellspring of Arcana

Morning light filters through the small window, indifferent to my grief. My body feels heavy, as if every muscle is protesting the movement. I sit up slowly, my head pounding from last night's tears. The rage in Caius's eyes, the pity in Liam's voice, the space where Kira should be... it's all still there, fresh as an open wound. When I realized I still had that stupid fear song taking up a slot.

You have replaced Dreadful Dirge with Dash of the Daring!

A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Before I can respond, Mara's voice carries through. "Brendan? I've brought you some breakfast, dear. You need to keep up your strength."

"I'm not hungry," I call back, my voice hoarse from last night's grief.

The door opens anyway–Mara's never been one to take No For an Answer. She bustles in, carrying a tray laden with porridge, fresh bread, and honey.

"Now, none of that," she says firmly, setting the tray down. "I won't have you wasting away in here." Her eyes are kind but determined. "Eat. Please."

I can't bear her kindness. "Mara's, I don't deserve—"

"Hush," she cuts me off. "Eat first. Blame yourself later if you must." She squeezes my shoulder gently before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.

I force myself to stand, catching sight of my reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin. I barely recognize the person staring back at me. Dark circles shadow my eyes, my face gaunt and pale. My usually neat hair is dishevelled, and there's a haunted look in my eyes that wasn't there before. Is this what cowardice looks like? Is this what fear does to a person?

I splash water on my face, trying to wash away the evidence of grief, but it does little to improve my appearance. The porridge grows cold as I stand there, studying this stranger in the mirror, wondering how I'll ever face the village looking like this.

I get dressed mechanically, each motion a battle against the weight in my limbs. The village will expect me to show my face today. They'll want answers, explanations, something to make sense of Kira's death. I feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me, torn between the urge to hide away and the obligation to face them. The thought of their accusing eyes and unspoken questions makes my stomach twist, but I know I can't avoid it forever.

Making my way down the stairs, each wooden step creaks beneath my feet, the sound echoing through the quiet inn. Mara is busy with another guest, but she catches my eye as I pass. The empty breakfast tray sits on her counter – a silent reminder of her earlier kindness. I still can't meet her gaze directly, but I manage a slight nod of thanks before slipping past.

Stepping out into the street, the cool morning air hits my face like a slap. The village is already stirring to life, people going about their routines, but there's a tension in the air. I feel the weight of their stares, hear the whispers that follow in my wake.

The market square bustles with activity, but it feels different today. The usual chatter has subdued to murmurs, and I catch fragments of conversations as I pass:

"...back from the tunnels..."

"...Kira didn't make it..."

"...his fault, they're saying..."

Each word pierces like a dagger, and my heart pounds against my ribs. I force myself to keep walking, head bowed against the whispers. I know where I need to go—the guild hall. Caius will have made his report by now, and they'll want to hear my side. I don't know what I'll say. I don't even know if I can speak without breaking down. But I owe it to Kira to try.

The guild hall was silent at this early hour. Goran was sitting at his usual desk, his weathered face creasing with concern as I enter. Before I can speak, he raises a hand.

"I heard what happened," he whispers. "Sit down, lad."

I sink into the chair across from him, my prepared words dying in my throat.

"First off, it wasn't your fault. I talked to Liam and Caius," Goran continues, his voice firm.

"Despite no evidence of more Ratmen coming from holes in the wall, Liam told me he was ready to call a retreat because of your team's predicament. On a side note, we've already dispatched a more experienced team to deal with the Ratman lair—veterans specialized in underground combat."

I notice movement in the main hall where Dridal and Aelindra are gearing up with their team. The dwarf's usual boisterous manner is subdued as he checks his war hammer, while Aelindra methodically counts arrows, her expression grim. The sight of such experienced adventurers taking this so seriously sends a chill down my spine.

"They'll root out every one of them," Goran says, following my gaze. "Those two have cleared out three other Ratman warrens in the past year alone. Between Dridal's knowledge of underground fighting and Aelindra's tracking skills... well, those vermin won't know what hit them. They'll make sure what happened to Kira..." his voice trails off before he clears his throat. "Well, they'll make sure it counts for something. And they've promised to bring her home, give her the proper burial she deserves. It's the least we can do for one of our own." He shuffles some papers on his desk. "As far as the guild is concerned, we consider your initial quest successfully completed."

Trouble on the Farmstead Quest Completed!

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

* Items: Potential monster parts or loot from defeated creatures

* Currency: 75 GP

"Kira—" I start, but my voice cracks.

"Died a hero's death, leave it at that," Goran finishes. "Protecting her companions. That's who she was." His weathered face softens, eyes distant with memory. "Reminds me of my team, years back. We were deep in the Crystal Caves, following rumours of a dragon's hoard. Should've known better - five of us went in, three came out."

He absently rubs his left arm, where I notice old burn scars peeking out from his sleeve. "Our mage, Theron, he..." Goran's voice catches slightly. "He held the passage while we ran. Bought us time with his life, just like your Kira did. Sometimes that's what it means to be an adventurer - knowing when to sacrifice yourself so others can live."

His eyes refocus on me, sharp with understanding. "Took me years to stop blaming myself for running. But you know what? Theron made his choice. Just like Kira made hers. Dishonouring that choice by drowning in guilt... that's the real betrayal."

He reaches beneath his desk. "Now, about your share of the loot. Caius came by earlier..."

My chest tightens at the mention of his name.

"He wanted nothing to do with your share," Goran explains, placing a familiar set of lockpicks on the desk. "He seemed angry, not just at what happened, but at himself. I think he blames himself more than he's willing to admit. But I convinced him to let me give you these, at least. Whisker's Delicate Touch — they call them. Beautiful craftsmanship. Did you know Bards can learn lock-picking? Useful skill for an adventurer."

You receive: Whisker's Delicate Touch

I pick up the bone-handled picks, their fine steel tips catching the morning light. Part of me wants to refuse them, but I can almost hear Kira's practical voice telling me not to be foolish.

"I need to leave," I say quietly, tucking the picks into my belt. "The village, I mean. It's... it's better this way."

Goran nods, understanding in his eyes. "As it happens, a merchant caravan left yesterday, headed south along the trade road. With your speed, you could catch up to them before nightfall. They're always looking for guards, and a Bard's talents are welcome around any campfire."

He stands up and walks around the desk, placing a heavy pouch in my hand—my share of the reward. "Whatever you saw in that chamber, Brendan, trust yourself. Fear keeps us alive sometimes. Makes us think twice before charging in. That's not always a bad thing."

You receive: 70 GP

I rise, slinging my pack over my shoulder. "Thank you, Goran. For everything."

"Safe travels, lad. And remember—the guild has halls in every major city. You'll always have a place with us."

Returning to the inn, I find Mara still at her post. "Mara," I whisper, "I need to leave, but I... I can't face the market right now. Could you send one helper to get some travelling supplies for me? I'll pay extra for the trouble."

Mara's eyes soften with understanding. "Of course, Tyler can run those errands for you. What do you need?"

I hand her a list and some coins, then retreat to my room to pack. There isn't much–a few clothes, the memories I can't leave behind. A soft knock interrupts my packing. Tyler's there with my bundle of supplies – dried meat, hard bread, cheese, and other road necessities.

Back downstairs, Mara's waiting. She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug that nearly breaks my composure. "You take care of yourself out there," she whispers.

"Thank you," I manage. "For everything."

I step out into the morning mist, adjusting my pack and checking my weapons. As I turn toward the south gate, I hear footsteps behind me.

"You're leaving too, aren't you?" The words escape me before I can stop them. I can't bring myself to turn around, afraid to face Liam's expression.

"Yes." He moves to stand beside me. "I have to tell her family. They deserve to hear it from me."

The weight of guilt crushes down on my chest. "I keep seeing them, Liam. The Ratmen in the walls. Every time I close my eyes, they're there. But... but now I don't know if they were ever real."

"Does it matter?" His voice is gentle, understanding in a way I don't deserve. "Real or not, you believed they were there. You acted on what you thought was right."

He reaches into his pack and pulls out something wrapped in cloth. "She would have wanted you to have this."

You receive Kira's journal!

My hands shake as I unwrap Kira's journal. Fresh tears blur my vision as Liam explains about her records of their adventures, her dreams, her last entry about finding a family in our party.

"I don't deserve this," I whisper, clutching the journal to my chest.

"Maybe not," Liam agrees. "But you need it. Learn from it. Grow from it."

As he turns to leave, I find my voice one last time. "Will you ever come back?"

His answer is honest, painful. "I don't know. But if I do, I hope I find you've become the hero she believed you could be."

I watch him disappear into the morning mist before turning south, toward the trade road. The journal weighs heavily in my pack, but somehow it feels right. I hum softly to myself—my travelling song, for the long road ahead.

You sing Dash of the Daring!

In the shadowed glens where whispers weave,

Heroes dance on twilight's eve,

With hearts of fire and feet so fleet,

They dash through danger, never know defeat.

Run, run, oh swift as the breeze,

Feel the thrill as you break through the trees,

With every heartbeat, let courage soar,

Dash of the daring, forevermore!

Tales of glory in every stride,

Chasing shadows, where the brave abide,

With laughter bright and spirits high,

We race like stars in the midnight sky.

Run, run, oh swift as the breeze,

Feel the thrill as you break through the trees,

With every heartbeat, let courage soar,

Dash of the daring, forevermore!

Through forest deep and mountain tall,

We answer adventure's siren call,

With nimble feet and spirits light,

We outpace danger in the night.

In the face of fear, we do not cower,

Our speed, our strength, our hidden power,

With every step, we write our story,

In the book of legends, etched in glory.

Over rivers wide and chasms deep,

Our daring dash, a promise we keep,

To friends, to foes, to all who see,

We are the swift, the brave, the free.

Run, run, oh swift as the breeze,

Feel the thrill as you break through the trees,

With every heartbeat, let courage soar,

Dash of the daring, forevermore!

When shadows lengthen, dangers loom,

Our speed dispels encroaching doom,

With hearts united, hand in hand,

We race towards dawn across the land.

Run, run, oh swift as the breeze,

Feel the thrill as you break through the trees,

With every heartbeat, let courage soar,

Dash of the daring, forevermore!

Swift as thought and light as air,

We leave our fears without a care,

In this moment, wild and free,

We are the legends we were born to be.