14 hours.

That’s all I have. 14 hours I confirmed when I found one of the crewmen. 14 hours until dinner was prepared, cooked and served to all passengers on this ship all together at the same time.

14 hours.

The time between now and then, where my life hangs in the balance.

As soon as the Master Warrior and his Initiate son had gone away and the ship went ahead and embarked on its voyage, followed by my finding the closest readily available crewman and asking him about the dinner schedule, I immediately sequestered myself away inside my little cabin.

Inside, panic was right in there with me, but panic has long been a familiar friend and I am now well used to his presence, well able to keep him in line away and from my mind and thoughts when necessary, an especially useful skill now as I attempt to sort through my current circumstances and options.

…A performance.

I have 14 hours until I have to put on a musical performance to impress one man that will then likely flippantly decide on what sort of fate I deserve for inspiring such disobedience in his son.

….Why?

….Why did this have to happen?

No!

Can’t think like that. Gotta focus damn it. That’s all everything comes down to right now, focus. Focus on how I get through this.

That Master Warrior, he clearly felt some sort of way when he heard that I was a minstrel, but that clearly changed when he found out that I wasn’t under the patronage of the Pleasure Association.

So, …Master stage Warrior, Institute Association, clear dislike for minstrels but only those who associate themselves with the Bordello…

Institute Loyalist.

Though I had been absent from the current political comings and goings over the years, given the vast life spans of those who occupy the top spots at the pyramid that is Calzyn, things haven’t probably changed all that much in my inattention.

Martus’ disdain for the Magical Kingdoms and Selene’s reliance and support for them to maintain her political power has long put them squarely at odds with each other.

Not to the point where there was any serious risk of civil discord of course. Martus holds too much love for the united authority of the Coalition to place it in any kind of jeopardy, and Selene would in no way survive such a conflict even with the backing of the Magical Kingdoms due to her severe lack of any offence orientated followers.

Nevertheless they, and their associations behind them, try with all their might to smear and have one up over the other to satisfy their political dispute and long accumulated grudges that have spawned from it at any presentable opportunity.

Naturally of course different factions have emerged in the two camps focused towards mitigation, peaceful political dialogue and even some measure of peace, but power flows down from the top, the two Heads, and so it's their views that hold precedence. Therefore, it is those who do similarly uphold the popular political truths that win favour from above, and thereby rise up accordingly.

Given this, it's only natural that the majority of Master Warriors in the Institute Association are Institute loyalists because as one, they are rewarded favour for it through better resources, tutoring, and assignments to progress them further along their Path as a way to foster them for their political standpoint, while at the same time bolstering its volume in Calzyn’ political discourse.

But all this is besides the point… an Institute Loyalist… I can work with that.

Institute Loyalist’s, especially the really committed ones, despise the Bordello’s, in their view, treacherous actions and relations and so to do they accordingly protest anything and anyone under their purview.

They abstain most forms of entertainment as they consider them Bordello propaganda and will only really experience any other form of amusement besides what they find in their books and research papers during joint Association gatherings, where the Bordello will likely always put on a performance during the banquets that occur during or afterward.

However, I’m not under the Bordello patronage. I’m an independent, and so indirectly oppose the entertainment monopoly that they hold power over. So at the very least this Master Warrior should feel indifference towards me and at best approval.

But what I really have to worry about…is what “Junior” said.

He had called me the best minstrel outside of the Pleasure Associations mana wielding musicians, who use the might and majesty of mana to achieve their songs and harmonies. A fantastic compliment most definitely, but he has completely backed me into a corner.

This kid, from what I gathered, has apparently disobeyed his nigh invincible Master Warrior father, and in doing so has made him very angry. Then, he makes a full speech about how I’m the reason why it happened in the first place because I’m just so bloody incredible.

A mere measly peasant who isn’t worth the dirt beneath the shoes of this god amongst men, that’s the reason he gave his monster of a Father as to why he disobeyed him in the first place.

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This Institute Loyalist, though few in number, has surely seen some of the greatest musical pieces this world has to offer, and now little old me has to compete against them and impress him with some simple peasant music to somehow attempt to discourage him from punishing me in his son’s stead as a reprimand.

I…I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I don’t know enough about the Master Warrior to make an educated guess.

The only thing I can do… is do the best I can do, and put on a show.

A show that may very possibly be my requiem.

*****

My hands are sweating, and no matter how much I rub them on my clothes to dry them off, they still won’t stay dry.

I had just walked through the door to the main dining area (which is astounding by the way), a mostly large and open wooden hall that seems to have had some serious renovations recently put into it by somebody because it looks like what I must admit is fairly magnificent, with one end of the hall looking particularly regal.

Walking in, I was hoping that maybe something had happened to call this whole thing off, but I was sorely disappointed.

Even with the admiration I felt for my apparent performing hall, the stage I noticed at the end that also seemed very newly constructed, was making me feel ill with dread.

Beside it, ramrod straight and as solemn as stone, is a Warrior who is clearly an Institute man and must be the subordinate of the Master Warrior. Upon seeing me, I quesely yet quickly make my way over to him and lower my torso before him to show the appropriate respect.

He curtly instructs me of what is to happen. When the dining hall is filled and his master arrives when everyone else is seated, I will begin playing as soon as he permits me to. After that, his Lord will judge what will happen next.

Simple and straightforward, like stepping on an ant. He then walked away without hesitancy after that emotionless possible execution order and left me alone with a wide stage only occupied by a sole wooden stool.

I wait by it off to the side for what is to come, struggling to remain as calm and ready as I can be.

The last few hours I have slept, paced, eaten, thrown up, practised my guitar, tuned it, gone to the bathroom, practised my guitar again, tuned it again, thrown up again, gone to the bathroom again and done a few rounds of Baptisms in between it all. Musical affinity ones as a matter of fact, which I’ve actually found to improve my voice pitch and my ear for tones in every single one of my performances that I have done so far.

I breathe. And I keep breathing as I watch people file into the hall after some time in a quiet and organised manner, all of them taking a moment or two to examine me, to see whether tonight they’ll not just have a dinner and a show, but also an execution.

Someone must have spread the word.

Five minutes is all it takes for the Hall to fill up and all the seats to be taken. Following that… they walk in.

First, the man in charge, the Master Warrior, who everyone bows to as he enters the room.

Then comes who I can only assume is his wife, the young man who has gotten me into this disaster, and four more children that all file in afterwards from oldest to youngest.

After that comes a fifty or so entourage who file in and surround the Master Warrior and his family as they all sit down in front of a long table, assembled like royalty.

All chairs are now pointed towards me.

But everyone else and I are barely seeing this of course. We’re all still kneeling down and facing the floor as all of this is happening.

“Rise”.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last longer as everyone else and I are forced to return upright again quickly so that we may all face the music.

“Subjects of the Coalition” the Monster begins. “It was the currents from the Source that disturbed my and my followers' journey that has now led us to join you on your likewise charter to the New Continent in these coming months. I myself and my family and followers will not disturb you good people and will only ask that you afford us the same courtesy”.

No one says anything, but the rules for the journey have clearly just been laid down now, and no one’s going to dare to break them.

“ My…dear son here, as a means to cushion the abruptness of our arrival, has arranged this little performance for us all tonight. He assures me that this man here is the best unanointed minstrel in the world, and if that were not to be proven tonight, he himself will cut off his head and offer his life to you all as an apology…”

Oh no.

“... so without further ado, let the food be served, and tonight’s entertainment commence.”

Oh no no no no no.

“If you would begin…minstrel.”

…Silence.

Hundreds of eyes on me. No breathing, no rustling… only silence.

I walk up the stage.

I put my case down before me.

I sit down on the stool.

I open up my case and pull out my guitar. There’s some murmur of sound now but I don’t register it so consumed I am with focus.

I put the guitar on my lap, bring my hands up to the strings…

…and start playing.

*****

Martin knew his father had some sort of terrible punishment in stall for him, but he didn’t know it would be this.

He knew all Warriors must be tried and tested on the battlefield before taking up a place within the Coalitions ranks, and though he may be doing it later than customary because of his lacking talent, he knew he would be sent off to the battlefields of the New Continent soon after he arrived there to spill blood as all Initiates must do.

But to do it here, and now?

His father’s anger and disappointment with him must be greater than what he thought for him to not even care about the rumours of him that would spread because of this when they arrived at their destination.

Martin almost collapsed when he heard what his father said, but it's not so much the killing he must do that unsettles him, that has been long expected, it's whom, not what, that he will be killing.

The minstrel!

“What have I done?” Martin whispers under his breath… to be nevertheless heard by his father, who turns to him with somehow greater disappointment in his eyes, before we both turn back to the man now walking onto the stage.

…Such bravery.

That is all Martin can think as he watches the man. To walk so quietly and so calmly into death’s embrace.

Martin had seen the most valiant Warriors of the Coalition before, but they had mana, power, and years of facing battles and bloodshed to grow such courage.

This man, this lowly peasant musician, was doing something greater and braver than any of them had ever done.

He was so very quiet, defiant even. Not even offering his father any salutations but still going up on stage to play his music nonetheless.

How Martin envied his courage.

The minstrel sat down, took out his strange yet magical instrument, placed his hands on the strings, and started playing.

…music.

…music… again.

How he had missed the feelings it gave him.

Even with all his guilt, all his shame and all his regret for the injustice he returned to this man for the gift he had given him… he lost himself in the melodies and harmonies nevertheless.

…even as tears flowed down his face.

*****

“...cause I know I don’t belong, here in the Wellspring.”

With my last line sung and petered out from my very final melody, finally…

There was silence.

“…”

“…”

“…”

…and it lingered.

Opening my eyes to look out over my audience… I saw wonder, I saw passion, I saw joy and sadness, and in all, in all, I saw tears.

All except one.

The Master Warrior… his face was a mask of no emotion.

Even his other Warriors and family members (especially his son who had gotten me into the mess) have some measure of moisture in their eyes.

But not him.

And so I stared at him… waiting for his verdict.

As did everyone else in the dining hall.

And when the tension had just become too terrible to bear…

“ha…ha…Ha…Ha Ha Ha!...HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA”

The bastard started laughing.