On the first day of his journey to the capital city of Pemos Liam decided he hated riding horses. For once, it wasn’t because horses hated him. Actually, the animals were extremely tame and likable, and he would kill anyone who dared hurt one. But, for all he liked the animals, that didn’t help at all with the soreness currently killing his legs and making him question if his balls had disappeared back inside his body.

“I think I’ve lost my ability to reproduce,” he said as he groaned, trying to get the damned tingling out of his legs.

The [Knights] all around him burst out into laughter.

One of them, a young boy who’s just been knighted from being a [Squire], slapped him on the shoulder: “First time? Heh, don’t worry, you get used to it.”

Liam nearly fell to the ground because the said boy had forgotten to take off his armored glove. So now not only did Liam wish he couldn’t feel his legs, but he also felt like his joint had dislocated.

God, why had he thought that riding a horse would ever be easy?

“Calm down, Neville. You’re going to accidentally kill him that way.”

The young [Knight] turned towards the source of the voice, ready to say something funny, but stopped mid-breath when he saw it was [Knight Commander] Amarie, arms crossed, frowning down at him.

He immediately went as still, his body automatically moving into a military salute, which required one to put their right hand, palm open, on their heart as their left lay closed in a fist by their side.

“At ease Junior [Knight], Neville. Just be careful with our charge, or [Mage Crafter] Sigmund will have our arms.”

The young [Knight] chuckled as he relaxed just a bit, turning around to apologize for the too-friendly slap. Then he turned back towards his companions and began setting the camp up.

Amarie reached towards her belt and took out a small vial containing a bright red liquid: “Take this. It’s a low-grade healing potion, regenerative type. It’ll help with the pains.”

“Thank you. You’re a Saint.” he said, taking the vial with the same care one would hold a baby and taking a single sip from it. He didn’t drink the whole thing naturally, mainly because he was a bit of a hoarder and rather liked the idea of having one of these at the ready if shit hit the fan, which, from what he’d heard about the continent of Rodar, was very likely to happen. The tingling began to recede, together with the pain in his shoulder.

Amarie smiled slightly: “I’m many things, boy, but a saint? I rather think I’m already bound for Airm.”

“…What’s that?”

“Airm? That’s where the souls of the damned end up. Those that in their life do bad things. You know, murderers, thieves, criminals in general. They all get their special little cozy place there.”

“And why would you go there? You saved my life!”

“My job is killing people, boy. All of us are murderers here,” her tone was suddenly somber.

“You’re a [Knight], not a [Murderer]. There’s a difference.” He tried to console her, to which she laughed. Loud. The other [Knights] all turned around to stare, not understanding what had caused their normally extremely serious, professional, and sometimes outright emotionless [Knight Commander] to begin laughing so hard.

After a moment, she calmed down and sighed: “You never fought in your life until that battlefield, did you?”

Liam shook his head.

“Then you won’t understand. Or you don’t want to. Or you’re just trying to be kind. Either way, the only difference between us and a [Murderer] is that, usually, we kill for something we believe in. I believe in my kingdom and its chance to do some good. I want to help, and the best way I can help it is by fighting these wars. So I’ll fight and kill and damn myself to Airn, but at least I’ll be keeping the wars away from the people who don’t fight.”

And with that, she knelt to the ground and took out a stick from her belt. She said the words “[Candleflame]” and the small wooden tip burst into a small flame. Liam half expected for it to begin eating away at the wood, but instead, it just burned right at the tip. Amarie got it close to the dry leaves she’d gathered there, and, after a moment, smoke began rising before a happy little flame burst out.

“I thought those leaves were dry. Why’d it take so long for the fire to catch?”

“Because the wand is enchanted with a very low level fire spell. [Candleflame] uses its mana to produce light and heat, so the flame is hot, but it doesn’t actually burn. Still hot as an actual fire though, so if you have something dry enough, it’ll eventually catch.”

And at that, Liam had to stop and think. How could a flame just produce heat and light… without burning? That made no sense. And he said so.

“I don’t know, boy, I’m not a [Mage]. None of us are. It works, and that’s enough for us. You’ll have to ask Sigmund when we get to the capital.”

And that’s how it ended. The [Knights] took some military rations out of their Dimensional Bags (apparently, they all got one when they were knighted) and began cooking them by the fire. The food was pretty good all things considered: jerky, roasted potatoes, even some kind of cake that looked and smelled like stale bread, but when it was heated, it became as soft and tasty as… he didn’t have anything to compare it to actually. Never been one for sweet things.

“You must actually be crazy,” said one of the [Knights] when he said that, “There’s people out there who’d kill you for such a delicacy.”

“It was literally stale bread a few minutes ago. Why should it be better now that it’s warm.”

“Don’t ask me. [Military Chef] in our camp is more secretive than a [Spy] about his recipes. Just trust me, it’s good, even if you don’t have a sweet tooth.”

“Alternatively, you can give it to me,” piped up Amarie, who was sitting just a few meters to his left, eating her treat with gusto. Apparently, she had the worst case of sweet tooth known to humanity, but she could rarely indulge in it.

“Don’t you have a diet to keep, [Knight Commander]?” asked one of the senior [Knights].

“Didn’t you have the middle watch shift, Sir Pollion?” she asked, not missing a beat.

“No… I have first.”

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“Well, now you’ve got third. Neville’s taking your place.”

The [Knight]’s mouth fell open while everyone around the fire burst laughing at the expense of the poor man. Except for Neville, who sighed thankfully and thanked his Stars, because the first and last watch were the best ones, and everybody craved them since with those, you got all your hours of sleep without interruption.

The evening went on, and it didn’t feel like a group of [Knights] from the military camping. It was more like watching a group of old friends, bantering about anything and everything while also trying to show off. They were loud, sometimes obnoxious, always cheerful, even [Knight Commander] Amarie, the most serious of the bunch.

“So, I hear you got a Red Skill.” someone asked at some point. One of the [Knights] had taken out of her bag of holding a bottle of cheap wine and they’d shared it around. Liam choked on his sip as he heard the statement.

After a good thirty seconds of coughing and sputtering, he managed to breathe right again and nodded.

“Yes. [Dreams Painted Red]. I can’t daydream anymore,” he said, trying to joke about it, even if just the thought of what the Skill had done to him that time in the tent made him shiver. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He’d rather stay awake all night and the next day.

But he was tired and, already, he could feel his body crying out for its much desired seven hours of sleep.

“Don’t joke about it, boy,” told him Amarie as she finished her glass of red wine.

“Yeah, what she said,” agreed the [Knight] who had his watch shift changed, “Red Skills are dangerous, especially if they evolve. They change you: give you something good in exchange for reshaping completely the person you are. That’s why there are harsh laws on keeping [Soldiers] who get them away from battlefields.”

“I see nothing good in the shit that Skill does to me,” whispered Liam as he tried to sip from his glass again. His hand was shaking though, so he gave up and just placed it down, hoping nobody noticed.

“Because it’s just a basic Red Skill. Those are all bad. Mostly. They become, well, for lack of better word, useful, if you go musician.” the older [Knight] shivered at that.

And there it was again, that strange thing they said, ‘going musician’. What did that mean?

“What do you mean by ‘going musician’?”

He had to ask. This world was completely new to him. New and wonderful. Sure, he had just come out of a battlefield where he’d nearly died, his chest had been destroyed and rebuilt and now, apparently, he suffered from some strange form of PTSD, but he was still alive and he was in another world! This was the dream come true of any isekai fan!

So yes, he’d been fucked from the moment he’d arrived here, but there was no reason to not enjoy the good things too.

“Where have you been living up until now boyo? Under a rock? How do you not know what that means?” asked one of the [Knights] curiously.

“That’s not something you’re paid to care about Yulus.” answered Amarie for Liam, her tone warning.

Then she turned towards him and answered:

“It’s an old tale, especially popular around Rodar, infamous all around the world.

“You see, this continent is called by many ‘The Continent of Misfortune’. Apparently something happened here a very long time ago, so far back that some say humans still didn’t exist. Whatever it was, the gods decided to curse this continent. So, basically, if something can go wrong it will go wrong.”

Oh yeah, thought Liam, Murphy’s Law is the only constant around here. Joy!

“It’s not too much of a hassle. People learn to live with it. Some even exploit it. Anyways, Rodar is also known as the ‘Continent of Dungeons’, seeing how many civilisations and kingdoms fell here since its creation. We’re loved by any and all adventurers.

“The story goes, centuries ago a man, a [Battle Bard], and his team went inside a particularly dangerous dungeon, where they met a monster capable of casting [Insanity] Spells. Apparently, the [Bard] was particularly susceptible to mind fuckery, being a retired soldier, and ended up acquiring a Red Skill: [Insanity]. He killed the monster, then killed his team, seeing them as enemy soldiers from his past, and then spent an entire month in the dungeon, killing monsters and adventurers alike, lost in his past. During that time his Class evolved from [Battle Bard] to [Nulla Veritas Musician].

“Until one day he somehow managed to come back, his sanity partially regained. He was nearly killed on the spot when he did, but somehow proved that everything he’d done was because of the collateral damage of the spell, and they just, well, banned him from the continent.

“Still, the red remained in his Class, even after he went back to a modicum of sanity. His most powerful Skill was capable of literally distorting reality, changing and reshaping it into what he desired, so long as he was willing to give up his sanity, with the risk of falling down that rabbit hole again, when he used it.

“That’s where the phrase ‘going musician’ comes from.”

She finished the tale.

There was silence around the campfire.

Then Yulus sighed and shook his head: “[Knight Commander], I’ve seldom heard anyone tell this story worse than you. Where’s the pathos? Where’s the emotion? Hearing you talk right now was like hearing someone read their shopping list for groceries.”

Amarie hummed and nodded her head: “You’re right. And you’re also on latrine duty.”

Everyone began laughing. Except for Yulus, who made an aggravated face and asked if anyone was willing to take his place.

After everyone had calmed down, Amarie put a hand in her bag of holding and, after a bit of rummaging around, took out… an ukulele. An actual, honest to god, ukulele.

“I thought you were kidding when you talked about an ukulele.” said Liam, mouth half open in surprise.

“Nope! Atmosphere was getting a bit too serious, so I’ll be playing for a bit.”

All the [Knights] around the campfire cheered and told her to hurry up and begin playing. From their reaction she must’ve been quite the player.

“Is she any good?” he whisper-asked to Neville beside him.

“Oh, she’s the best. She’s a Level 15 [String Musician]. Hasn’t leveled in years, but that’s just because she isn’t willing to turn it into something more than a pastime. But I can well imagine her riding into the battlefield, playing her instrument, buffing us with both her [Commander] and [Musician] Skills. That would be a sight to see.” he answered.

Amarie began to play.

And time came to a standstill.

----------------------------------------

How can you describe a song with mere words? How can one write sound without notes? The answer, quite simply, is you can’t. Music, always, was meant to be heard first, described second.

So how do you do it?

…

Well, you write the emotions. You say what the song made you feel, what it made your mind see. The worlds held in each and every note, a book in every sound, a breath of eternity held and let go each and every moment in a futile attempt to capture the fleeting memories of things long lost. Because every song is a story, and each story needs its own song.

The story Amarie was telling was a happy one. It spoke of a green field of grass that extended as far as the eye could see in every direction, filled with colorful flowers of all forms and smells. A soft wind rustles the verdant sea, fresh, carrying perfumes that were both alien and familiar.

A girl walked through the fields. No, danced. Her legs had been broken, but still she’d danced, with her voice, her soul, her body, her mind, until one day someone gave back to her what she’d lost. And now she danced and sang, and the world was right anew.

The song ended.

And everyone was left silent.

“That… was… beautiful.” managed to croak out Liam.

The [Knights] nodded.

It was an old story, probably told a thousand thousand times all over the world, with different words, different characters and different places. Always with the same message.

But this… this felt more primal. It felt like the concept of the story, without the details and frills and falsehoods and masks. This was the true story. And it was that much more beautiful because of that.

“How can you be only Level 15?” asked Liam.

Amarie shrugged: “What I just did was no Skill, it was all skill. I am just that good. I’m low Level because there’s no need for me to be higher Level, no need for me to learn more. I had the best of teachers, after all.”

And with that cryptic answer, she began playing again.

Another song. Another story.

That night, they all went to sleep happy and relaxed.

Some, though, didn’t sleep well.