The man was sat crosslegged on a barrel, playing a small wooden flute as if the rest of the world did not exist. He was dressed smartly, if flamboyantly, in moss-green trousers, a red shirt with voluminous sleeves, and a tight black waistcoat. His collar was turned up, and a monocle was perched over one closed eye.

The sun warmed his dark skin and glistened on his slicked-back red hair. Across his back, he carried a small bandolier with miniature instruments of various types.

A number of people were dancing around him as he played, smiling and laughing as they lost themselves in the bright, happy tune.

“Could be worse,” Bert admitted, feeling the music lifting his spirits.

“He’ll do, I guess,” Bell said, smiling and tapping one foot to the rhythm. “I like the tune.”

Bert held out his hand with a flourish. “May I have this dance, fairest of maidens?”

Bell giggled and took his hand.

There was a desperately awkward moment where Bert remembered he didn’t know how to dance.

At all.

Then the music took him, and he simply let it guide him. They danced, twirling through the group. Bell’s eyes shone as she danced with a joy he usually only saw when she held a weapon. They lost themselves in the music for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of holding each other.

As they moved, the music flowed through them, their mana tides synchronized with the music and each other. The air seemed to shine, and Bert felt he no longer had to think about the dance.

It was natural, it was… right.

All he could think about was the feel of Bell’s hand, the scent of her, and the joy in her eyes.

He laughed as the music got faster, Bell and him dancing in the center of the group as dancers whirled around them. They danced as the sun moved across the sky. They danced as it set. They danced until a delicate cough interrupted the music, breaking the spell.

The people around them fell, gasping and smiling.

Bert was holding Bell close, her fast breath tickling his cheek as she planted a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“That was fun,” She smiled.

“Sorry to interrupt,” A rich, smooth voice said. “But I feared the other dancers would injure themselves if they danced any longer.”

Finally breaking eye contact with Bell, Bert realized the sun was down, the moon soon to set. He blinked a few times.

“Why did you stop?” A woman asked, lying on her back, gasping for air. “I’ve never had such fun!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Jackson,” The bard smiled tiredly, “Even the dance of the Fae must pause occasionally.”

Bert and Bell followed the man as he walked away. He bowed and introduced himself once they were out of sight of the dancers.

“Andre of the Broken Drum,” He said with a smile. “An honor to play for the Fae.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bert held out a hand, “I’m Bert, and this is Bell.”

The Bard seemed surprised but shook hands happily with them both.

“So, do you need to rest now?” Bell asked, unusually considerate as her eyes still shone with joy, “Or shall we start the quest?”

“The family involved are expecting our arrival, I’m sure,” Andre said. “Although we are, perhaps, later than expected.” He led them through the streets with practiced ease. Everywhere they passed, the few people on the streets at this hour would call a greeting or wave to Andre.

“You certainly seem popular,” Bert said.

“Everyone loves a Bard,” Andre said with a smile, “Until it’s time to pay them, of course.”

“So, who’s paying you for this quest?” Bert asked, liking the easy confidence of the man. It didn’t make him any less suspicious, but still.

“King Lastia, of course,” He smiled. “He is the one who wants the stories, after all.”

“About that,” Bell said, “If you try to betray or harm us, I’ll flay you alive.”

“I would expect no less,” Andre laughed. “Have no fear; my contract is clear. I am to observe, aid, and return. That is all.”

“Would you swear to that?” Bert asked.

“On pain of excruciating death?” Bell added.

“I so swear,” Andre said as if it was unimportant to him. “Even if my contract did not call for that… to accompany the Fae on a quest is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a Bard.”

Bert felt the oath take hold and relaxed. He really did like the man.

“You should get a cat,” Bell said out of nowhere.

“Sorry?” Andre missed a step at the abrupt change of topic.

“A cat,” Bell said, “A small fluffy thing. It could sit on your shoulder and look disapproving at people.” She nodded to herself. “It would suit you.”

Andre appeared to think for a moment, then shrugged.

“I’ll look into it,” He said, humming softly as they walked.

========

The house did not look particularly noble. It certainly didn’t look like the kind of place a Princess would live.

Andre knocked a rapid tune out on the door, only to have it snatched open halfway through.

“What kind of time do you call this?” A short, pudgy man in threadbare clothes of red and white asked. He had clearly been waiting at the door for quite a while and had crumbs all over the front of his shirt.

“A thousand pardons,” Andre said with a bow, “We were detained in the name of art!”

“Bloody Bards,” The man huffed before peering past Andre at Bert and Bell. “Is this it? Two people to rescue my daughter?”

“They are not mere people!” Andre drew himself up. “Your noble house has attracted the attention of the noble Fae! Here, in person, you find the legendary personages of a Lord and Lady of the Fae!”

“They don’t bloody look it!” The man grumbled. “They look like a pair of ruffians to me.”

“A clever disguise,” Andre stage whispered to the man, “So that your foes are not warned of the justice to befall them!”

“All right,” The man grumbled. “You better come in, I suppose.” He turned, walking away from the door without a backward glance.

Bert and Bell exchanged a look.

“Who was that?” Bert asked Andre.

“The deposed king of a distant land, Nathaniel Bricka the third.” Andre said, waving them inside, “His rival stole his throne and exiled him; it was quite the scandal.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Uh-huh,” Bell said, following Bert into the house. “Bit of a grump.”

“His people have not exactly clamored for his return,” Andre said with a smile.

A woman snored on the chaise lounge before a flickering fire while King Bricka brushed crumbs off a faded wooden throne and heaved his bulk into it.

“Right.” He sighed. “My daughter’s been taken by House Bream; go get her.”

“Any idea where they took her?” Bert asked, looking around the otherwise empty rooms.

“No,” The king huffed. “She was shopping for a husband and never returned!” He noticed one of the larger crumbs on his shirt and popped it into his mouth.

Bell made a slight gagging noise.

“Well?” He glared at them. “Piss off and go get her!”

Bert gently pulled Bell’s hand off her ringer and cleared his throat.

“Can you tell me where she was when she was taken?” He asked.

“I don’t know!” The man grumbled. “Charlene!”

“Wha?” The woman roused briefly.

“Where was Baby when she was taken?”The King yelled.

“Shopping,” The woman mumbled before starting to snore again.

“Shopping where?” The man yelled, “Charlene! Shopping where?”

“Wha?” The woman burped, releasing a smell that could gag a skunk, “Oh, she went to the cliffs after one of the Dane boys.”

“Can we leave yet?” Bell asked, “Or at least open a window?”

“What does your daughter look like?” Bert asked. “How do we recognize her?”

“She’s the princess, fool!” The King flopped back in his chair. “She looks like me.”

“No wonder she can’t find a husband,” Bell muttered.

“What was that?” The King leaned forward in his chair.

“Time we got started on that noble rescue!” Andre said smoothly, “Have no fear; your daughter will doubtless be returned soon!”

“She better be,” The king scowled as they left the room, “She better bloody be!”

Bert and Bell took deep breaths of the cool night air as they decided what to do next.

“Any idea who the Dane boys are?” Bert asked Andre.

“Of course,” The man smiled, “They are minor local nobility and a bunch of part-time bandits to boot.”

“Part-time?” Bert asked.

“They do kidnapping to order jobs,” Andre said. “Ransom, and that kind of thing.”

“No one ever stopped them?” Bell asked.

“Not really,” Andre shrugged. “They don’t target locals, employ locals, and pay well.”

“So why the Princess?” Bert asked. “She was local, right?”

“Recent arrival,” Andre said, “Plus, she went right to them. I don’t think they could resist the temptation to make a bit of extra cash.”

“They don’t seem to have much money,” Bell nodded towards the house.

“They don’t,” Andre agreed, “But the new King may well pay for her.”

“For a legitimate aire?” Bert asked.

“Eww,” Bell slapped his arm.

Andre laughed.

“No, she is his niece,” The Bard grinned. “The kingdom is small, and the two brothers had an argument long ago.” He shrugged. “His brother didn’t like the King much, neither did anyone else.”

“Aire and a spare,” Bert said, “It always causes issues.”

“Nice way of putting it,” The bard grinned.

“This is so sweet!” Bell said, sitting cross-legged on the back of the cart as it rumbled its way through the countryside. The groans and creaks of the ancient and poorly maintained wooden vehicle were a constant background noise as they rumbled along.

“How?” Bert asked, amused.

“When was the last time you traveled in something so simple?” Bell asked. “I’ve never even been on a cart before!”

Bert realized how much he forgot these days that she used to be trapped inside the Waystation. Something as simple as a cart ride was new and exciting to her.

She was, of course, still a pixie. Hence, it took less than five minutes for the novelty to fade.

“Are we there yet?” She asked, laying flat on her back as the clouds rolled past.

“It’ll take at least a day for us to travel to the Dane’s lands,” Andre said. “We have been traveling for only a few minutes.

“Gods above,” Bell huffed, “Grow wings already!”

“That is, unfortunately, not a tune I know how to play,” Andre said wistfully.

“How attached are you to those horses?” Bell rolled over, peaking over the driver’s bench to examine the two placid nags plodding faithfully along.

“I paid for ‘em,” The driver, a quiet and weathered man with a faint smell of linament, replied. “I’ll not be leaving them.”

“Pity,” Bell said with a wince. “No way I can lift them as well as the cart.”

“What?” Andre asked.

“Oh, I just figured I could fly us there faster.” She shrugged.

“Why don’t we just leave the cart behind?” Bert asked.

“No!” She patted the old cart. “I like it.” Sitting up, she began to look around with a thoughtful look. “I’ll just have to find ways to amuse myself while we travel.”

Bert winced, eliciting a questioning look from Andre.

==============

The StoneFell bandits were having a bad day. This kingdom was supposed to be soft on banditry and low-level crimes.

They had started off well; the cart had rumbled blindly into their trap, the horses bucking against the traps as the smoke bombs went off. They had leaped into view, surrounding the old cart with its rich-looking occupants.

The boss had called for them to surrender their weapons and valuables… just like always.

Then she sat up in the back of the cart.

The demon giggled and clapped her hands.

“I told you!” She had crowed in a high-pitched, I-told-you-so voice. “I can amuse myself!” With a giggle, she flicked a knife, and a man went down screaming. The others had attacked, but the demon split. It seemed to move in every direction at the same time, and the screams got louder.

The boss called a retreat, and they fell back into the forest.

That should have been it… but it wasn’t.

The demon chased them, moving through the trees and seeming to change size. One moment, she was a woman, the next the size of a bird.

The StoneFell learned to fear the sound of wings.

One by one, they fell, screaming, only to be dragged off into the woods. Now, it was just the Boss running ahead of him.

Zach stumbled to a stop, listening intently. Looking behind him, he saw nothing but trees, with dappled sunlight shining through the branches.

“I don’t see anything, Boss,” He gasped. He couldn’t hear anything either. The boss must have stopped running as well. “Boss?” He whispered.

The wind rustled the leaves above him, and he flinched. Swallowing bile, Zach looked around.

“Boss?” He called again.

No one answered. Nothing moved as he looked desperately around. There, on the floor ahead… a drop of blood.

“No, no, no,” Zach begged. “Boss!” He yelled in panic, immediately regretting it as the breeze carried a distant giggle to his ears.

He turned to run and felt the spit in his mouth dry up when she was sitting on a fallen tree behind him. Throwing himself to the side, he screamed. She was there as well, leaning against a tree and waving.

Scrambling back on his hands and knees, he found himself looking at two smooth black boots.

“Hi!” The demon called brightly.

Zach passed out as they closed in all around him.

The smell of urine stung his nostrils as he woke, surprised to be alive. He was even more surprised to find the rest of the gang moaning gently all around him. The smell of fear, urine, and worse filled the small shelter.

He recognized the place. It was a small hunter’s cabin that was next to the road up to the cliffs.

“What’s going on?” He whispered to the man next to him.

“We are waiting here until someone comes to arrest us,” The man grumbled back.

“Where is the demon?” Zach asked, hearing his voice shake just at the name.

“Gone,” the Boss’s voice was a welcome relief. “For now.”

“We were told to wait here,” Bridgitte replied from a spot by the door.

“Shouldn’t we run?” Zach asked.

“And have her come find us?” The Boss laughed bitterly. “You go ahead.”

Zach thought it through. He could run. The demon might never find him. It may not even bother to look.

He began to climb to his feet, but a thought stopped him.

Would he ever sleep again? Or would he always be waiting for the sound of that giggle to carry to him on the wind?

Zach sat back down, seeing others nodding to him.

“Clever lad,” Bridgitte said with a sigh.

==============

“That was quite amusing,” The driver said with a reluctant smile. “I’ve never seen a bandit cry before.”

“Pfft!” Bell said dismissively. “You should have seen the three that pissed themselves!”

“I believe I would enjoy that,” The man said with a faraway look.

“Maybe we will find a few more of them,” Bell said.

“I doubt there will be more,” Bert said. “The screaming really carried.”

“Don’t be a killjoy!” Bell said, “I bet this area is just crawling with bandits.”

She hummed to herself, flopping back into the cart once more to watch the clouds pass by.

“That will certainly make for a good story,” Andre said after a while. “It might even merit its own song.”

“We aim to please,” Bert said with a smile.

“Speak for yourself,” Bell laughed. “I always aim for the balls.”

“I noticed,” Andre said with a wince.

“Soo…” After a few more minutes of silence, Bell said, “Are we there yet?”

Putting away his quill and notes, Andre started to play.

The soothing tune drifted lazily in the air, and Bert felt his tension, the pains of the travel, and every other irritation fading away. He laid down next to Bell, who snuggled in against him.

Maybe they should think about getting a bard for the Waystation; they were kind of awesome.