After no small amount of flailing and gesticulating, I convinced Arter to stop carving on the table. Celestia glared as I approached, but I chuckled and explained it away as his overexcitement, asking if she had any paper.

She charged me a full Royal for it. That was enough for 8 ciders, so my heart sank, but it was probably less than replacing the table, so I accepted it.

With his paper acquired, Arter lost himself in the drawing, scribbling and crossing out and throwing sheets away when he messed up. I guessed that, like ballpoint pens, there was no such thing as correction fluid in fantasy land.

Hana’s eyes had glazed over, and she wobbled dangerously as she stared into space.

I gently shook her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She turned to me, then did something unthinkable.

She tried to kiss me.

At least, that’s what I thought it was, since she leaned in, missed spectacularly, and ended up face-planting on the table. Arter looked up with a scowl.

A red mark across her nose, she rose, pouting at me. “Can we take the doggie home?”

With a sharp exhale, Arter growled at her.

“She doesn’t mean you,” I said, not expecting him to believe me.

He didn’t, but huffed and went back to his designs.

“I did mean him,” she whispered. At a more normal volume, she said, “Aren’t we done here? You needed the architect, didn’t you? How did you even find him?”

“Magic,” I said, tapping my nose.

This didn’t satisfy her, and she pointedly turned away from me. I sighed.

“It was your suggestion,” I said. “The Company needs a face, remember?”

“Oh, yes! I am brilliant.” She puffed up with a proud smile. I wasn’t sure if I liked this more expressive version or not—her inhibitions may have disappeared, but so had her concept of boundaries, apparently.

Without another word, I stood, sauntering over to where the bard sat tuning her instrument. Her brown hair was tied in a braid, which she wore flicked over her shoulder, and a pale blue summer dress adorned her.

“Hi,” I said, waving as I dragged a chair over.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice smooth and melodious even when speaking. “Did you enjoy my performance?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard better.” I drew my hood back a bit, hoping a glimpse of my true visage could speed things up.

She didn’t even glance at me.

“I’m glad,” she replied. “I live to perform, so hearing your approval means everything to me.”

Well, there was a juicy tidbit I could use. “You live to perform… in little alehouses like this? Don’t get me wrong, Celestia’s got a great place here, but haven’t you ever dreamed of bigger?”

She shrugged. “A few in a tavern, many in a theatre, it’s all the same in the end. I bare my soul to the audience, and hope it resonates with them.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “What’s your name?”

“Kell,” she said, finally regarding me, “Kell Flahaut. And yours?”

“Oliver Marsden,” I said.

Finally taking notice of my features, her arms went limp. “You… you’re—”

“I get that a lot,” I said. “So, were you telling the truth? You really don’t care where you play?”

“Sire,” she said, voice quivering, “you must forgive me. I had no idea—”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” I waved her down. “I hate standing on ceremony, so please, just treat me like an ordinary potential employer.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Her eyes widened at this. “Potential employer? You mean… I could perform in your court?” She started shaking in excitement, her lips spreading upward.

“Not quite,” I said, and she deflated like an airless inflatable tube man. “It’s even better—you see, this country’s in the shit, right?”

Her jaw cycled, and she stuttered. “Well, that is… um…”

I shook my head. “You can speak your mind, Kell.”

“‘In the shit’ is something I would consider an understatement. It’s more like… a group of dragons have buried us in their excrement and hardened it with their fiery breath, encasing us forever in the doomed stink of reptilian waste.”

Faltering, I resisted the urge to applaud. As metaphors went, that definitely cracked the top 3 I’d ever encountered. Idly, I wondered how the stupidly literal Hana would process it, so I craned my neck to check on her.

She was having a drinking contest with construction workers. And winning. Even if a drop was enough to get her drunk, she really could hold it.

Terrified of the fallout, I decided to ignore it for now, focusing back on Kell.

“We can break free of the rock-shit,” I said, eliciting a laugh, “but it takes a lot of work and a lot of different people. I won’t go into the economics of it, but we need big projects, and I’ve decided to build an amphitheatre.

“We’ll also need performers to play there, and I want you to be our star.”

She fainted.

My heart stopped as I scurried across, too late to catch her as she thumped to the floor. A bunch of labourers stared hatefully at me, but I paid them no heed, instead supporting her head.

Her eyes flickered open, and she flashed me a grin. “I can really act too, can’t I?”

Though I sighed in relief, I still scowled. “That was really fucking mean.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, chuckling enough I knew she didn’t mean it, “consider it my audition. All my life, I dreamed of one day playing in the arenas of Atlantea and at the great Tanari festivals, capturing entire cities with my songs.

“I thought perhaps I could gain my start in my home, but as I travelled, life kept getting worse for everyone. Suddenly, I was fighting just to survive. They all had more important things to spend what little they had on, rather than an unknown bard with nothing but a pocket full of hopes and dreams.”

“There’s nothing more important than art that stirs the soul,” I said, half-believing myself. [Persuasive] was really pulling its weight.

“Then you’ll allow me to chase my dream?”

“I’ll do more than that,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “I’ll grant it for you.

Specialist Recruited!

Kell Flahaut/Human/Entertainer/Lv. 31

+10 XP

+5 SP

***

It took all 3 of us to drag Hana back to the palace.

Arter had been hesitant to break his flow, but when I told him he could have his pick of rooms in the palace, he sprinted out the door. We managed to return without incident, despite the rising of Tonok, the first moon.

Oh yeah, get this: there’s 2 of them. Tonok rose first at dusk, then halfway through its cycle, Aras emerged to chase her. There was a whole mythos, but I’d been far too busy to care.

With the help of some guards, I deposited Hana in her rooms, which were next to mine—maybe it would help if I connected them, but after her earlier display, the thought scared me—and set off to find Captain Tomas.

He was in one of many sitting rooms I’d put aside for them to use on their breaks. His eyes closed, he appeared peaceful in his armchair, his hands clasped on his chest.

Those eyes shot open when I entered, Kell in tow. I didn’t know when I’d lost Arter, but I could call him with [Command Centre] now, so it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sire,” said Captain Tomas, befuddled. “What brings you here?”

“Sorry to ask this of you,” I began.

“A message?” At least he got it, and without sounding the least bit frustrated. It seemed he was all about following orders. It didn’t matter what they were.

“I want people gathered in the plaza at Aras’ rise,” I said. “I’m gonna address them.”

“On such short notice, sire?” He looked confused.

“Better hurry up, then.”

As soon as he confirmed, I turned on my heel, wandering back to my room. I was a little remiss to take Kell in there, but it had the best balcony, so I’d need her in there anyway. She marvelled at my—apparent lack of—luxury, before tuning her lute and beginning her rehearsal.

I, meanwhile, searched every crevice of my skull for good words. [Persuasive] did a lot of heavy lifting, I realised, allowing me to orate better than I ever could before—my natural charisma was something like a bisected gerbil crossed with a particularly angry wasp. Despite this, I second-guessed every line, my stomach fluttering at the thought of addressing a crowd.

A couple of hours passed, and the soft, turquoise light of Aras filled the sky, a clamour rising up from the plaza.

Showtime.

I stepped onto the balcony, Kell behind me, and stopped to gawk at the assembled audience. There wasn’t a single patch of ground visible, to the point people had even started climbing on the fountain. As I emerged, a great cheer broke out, and my brain stalled.

What had I done to earn that kind of reaction? Was it just jingoistic support, or something deeper? Until we were truly tested, probably by a declaration of war, I couldn’t really know.

So I just had to keep moving forward.

With a deep breath, I prepared to address my nation.