Chapter 21

The Frosty Beard was an inn: recently constructed below the southern wall of E-Rantel’s Demihuman quarter. Situated directly below the hoardings where the Frost Dragons of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s delivery service were housed, the exterior of the stone building was shadowed, damp and often cold enough to coat the surface of the structure in a light frost. Above, its namesake – a veil of icy mist – continually seeped down from the buttressed overhang several metres above.

After the orphanage, it was the first permanent establishment to be constructed in the Demihuman Quarter: the influx of Dwarven merchants, tradesmen and travellers resulted in demand for a more homey sort of hospitality desired by their kind. Only the inn’s tavern and its associated areas for dining and entertainment were in the two floors above ground, while the inn’s accommodations were situated entirely below – extending ten floors into the earth to provide rooms of solid stone and cosy warmth greatly appreciated by their clientele.

The heavy, iron-bound oak door that served as the entrance to the building opened with the harsh clanging of iron chimes. A figure emerged, silhouetted by the warm light emanating from within. The rowdy cheers and toasts of the Dwarves within accompanied the stocky form of a Dwarf woman out. After another long and dreary week of deliveries back and forth between E-Rantel and Feoh Berkana, the next ‘day off’ finally arrived and Ilyshn’ish had immediately set out to see how she could improve her lot in life.

The week previous, where she had followed the Human female Pam on her deliveries around the city, had netted her two gold coins for hours of toil – significantly less than what she had received for the Frost Giant she had felled in mere minutes outside of Feoh Raizo. The brief summary of lore that she had offered while waiting to get into the Merchant Guild had gained her nothing, due to the sudden appearance of the militia and their subsequent need to escape.

Though disappointing, Pam insisted that Ilyshn’ish was an excellent Bard and could make far more as a performer than she could with the simple delivery work they had completed.

Ilyshn’ish spent what remained of her free time that day strolling around the city to what she could see. She traded some coins for a number of books that she thought might contain useful or interesting things, then headed back to the Frost Dragon pens so she could set Hejinmal to task sifting through the texts. It was on her way back that she noticed the Dwarven establishment nearby under construction. With both Pam’s assessment and her encounters with the various denizens of Feoh Berkana in mind, she approached the site where the proprietor and manager was overseeing the finishing touches on the new business.

After a brief sampling of what she had to offer, he immediately offered her three gold coins per day of work in the tavern. Gaining three coins sitting around doing what she enjoyed anyways was a far cry better than carrying things all over the place for two, so Ilyshn’ish promised to do so the next time she was available. Now, after spending the entire day performing in the tavern of the Frosty Beard, she basked in a sense of satisfaction over the day’s results.

When she arrived in the morning, the manager seemed surprised that she had appeared at such an early hour. Nevertheless, she worked through the morning, afternoon and late into the night. The tavern staff regularly asked how she was doing: was her voice okay? Did she need a drink? Was her seat comfortable and so on. They didn't seem to realize that she was actually a Dragon and thus possessed the endurance to easily weather the conditions that came with her task, but she still enjoyed their pampering.

The patrons of the tavern, too, showered her with an overwhelmingly positive reception. She quickly discovered that, as a resurgent nation, the Dwarves hungered to reclaim their history and culture – to rebuild the pride which had been lost over long centuries of painful decline. As a seemingly bottomless well of their lore, they were in awe of her as she could fulfil any request, regaling them with songs and poems that they had never heard of before. Even so, they still had no doubts over whether her renderings were authentic.

By evening, the tavern was filled to bursting and Ilyshn’ish was the centre of attention. Be they merchants or labourers or even visiting officials, she set their stony hearts aflame and their eyes shone with the visions that she painted for them. At some point, one of the tavern staff had set out a bowl near the edge of the stage upon which she performed, and coins of all denominations clinked into it whenever people came in and out and whenever she fulfilled their many requests. Every time it nearly overflowed, someone would change it out for her, and so she sang to her heart’s content: playing her drum as she performed everything from playful ditties to sweeping epics.

Though the Dwarves of the Azerlisia Mountains existed mostly underground and thus did not pattern their activities on the availability of daylight, the Humans of E-Rantel that they traded with did, so the day eventually ended for Ilyshn’ish as well with the proprietor closing the tavern to the grudging acceptance of its patrons. Rather than make her way directly back up the wall and risk detection in the Demihuman Quarter – which saw more new arrivals as time went on – she made her way through the gatehouse into the common area of E-Rantel.

The city streets at this late hour were absent of crowds and mostly quiet: save for a handful of the city’s denizens returning to their homes and the periodic passage of Undead servitors sent on various errands. Most of the storefronts were closed and shuttered, so Ilyshn’ish wasted no time making her way through the city and into the central district. The powerful Undead guards that manned the gatehouse did not move to stop her as she entered, nor did any of those patrolling within.

There was a marked gap in the affluence displayed between the dense housing outside of the inner wall of the city and the large, well-spaced noble manors within. The Dwarves and Humans had a common saying – something about thin air? Or was it rarefied air? As a Dragon, Ilyshn’ish could personally smell the difference in wealth crossing between different parts of the city. She sensed it every time she flew overhead as well.

Recalling the sight of the district’s dainty gardens and pretentious courtyards, she wondered why the city was arrayed in such a manner. It was as if they had made their treasures particularly vulnerable to predation from above: if not for the many powerful Undead maintaining their constant vigilance over the entire city, a Dragon could swoop down and quickly ransack the place, grabbing a snack or five while along the way. The low density of inhabitants made it safer to do so than if it had been placed near something like the Adventurer Guild.

Ilyshn’ish strode past the stately buildings and carefully tended public spaces to the base of the south wall. She veiled herself with Invisibility before returning to her Dragon self. Quietly scaling up the icy wall, she dispelled her concealment once she finished making her way to the top.

“Where have you been?” The Vampire Bride at the desk asked.

“It’s my day off,” she replied, “why does it matter?”

The Vampire Bride offered her no answer, so Ilyshn’ish walked past the desk and opened the door to the broom closet. Why was she still assigned to this tiny room, anyways? Aside from Hejinmal and herself, there were no other Frost Dragons around – surely she could be afforded more spacious accommodations now. Well, at least it had a door. Closing it behind her, she settled down to count her gains for the day.

The coin purse she withdrew was far more weighty than it had been in the morning, and Ilyshn’ish allowed herself a feeling of accomplishment over being able to substantially increase her personal possessions. It was a pittance compared to Olasird’arc’s old hoard, but she was still ahead of the others now. If only they would react appropriately when she flaunted her personal wealth…

Her brows furrowed as she wondered how to undo the tiny knot on the purse with her claws. She abruptly stopped upon sensing a figure approaching the door and put the purse away again. The door creaked open and, to her horror, Lady Shalltear stood in the corridor.

“I was having such a good week, too,” the Vampire looked into the closet with a displeased expression, tapping a rod of clear crystal over her wrist. “Why is it somehow always you?”

Sensing the powerful Undead female’s poor disposition, Ilyshn’ish crouched defensively and sought an avenue of escape.

“It wasn’t me, though?” She replied innocently, “It must have been some other Frost Dragon.”

“Aside from Hejinmal, you’re the only other one in the city.”

“T-then maybe it was him? Despite appearances, that one is quite cunning…”

“I had one of my Vampire Brides keep him company for the day,” Lady Shalltear said, “he’s been reading books the entire time.”

Lady Shalltear advanced into the doorframe and Ilyshn’ish shifted back. Brooms, mops and pails were tipped over and clattered noisily over the floor as she shifted backwards. Bumping up against the rear of the tiny space, she wondered if she could just put a hole in the wall and fly away.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you as well,” the Vampire continued, and Ilyshn’ish felt panic mounting despite the calm tone of Lady Shalltear’s silvery voice. “I have no doubt that you’re the one we’ve been looking for. After everything I said to the others…are you trying to make a fool out of me?”

“I don’t understand!” Ilyshn’ish whimpered, “What did I even do? No one looked unhappy – this…this is harassment, isn’t it? You’re b-bullying me for some petty reason! I…I demand to speak with your manager!”

Lady Shalltear froze in place, and an incredulous look appeared on her face.

Did it work? Of course it did. Ilyshn’ish learned this powerful technique while working in the Frosty Beard. Whenever a customer appeared to have a grievance over food or service, an impasse could be broken with this spell-like phrase and the employee being confronted would immediately turn conciliatory. She awaited a favourable result.

“There’s no reason for me to bring you to the Guardian Overseer,” Lady Shalltear finally replied. “Are you really that suicidal? This sudden demand to see Albedo, hmm…could this actually have been her plan all along?”

Lady Shalltear continued to mutter to herself, and Ilyshn’ish’s confusion only grew. Guardian Overseer? Albedo? What plan?

“It might be…everything fits together too perfectly,” she made a vexed noise. “I make the tiniest bit of progress, and she immediately makes moves against me – is this how she wants to play?”

The crimson gaze turned on Ilyshn’ish again and she shrunk further into the closet, curling her tail under herself. Never mind being able to answer, she didn’t even know what Lady Shalltear was talking about.

“Now, what shall I do–”

“Wait!” Ilyshn’ish wailed, “I don’t understand – I really don’t! Why are you doing this to me? What did I do?”

“You’ve been spreading rumours on your days off,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Rumours that have unsettled a great many people, undermining confidence in the Sorcerous Kingdom. We have a witness from last week, and I personally confirmed your actions today.”

“Rumours? I’ve done no such thing: I’ve only been working!”

“Working? Working for who?”

Lady Shalltear looked at her sharply, and Ilyshn’ish cringed under the overwhelming waves of malice washing over her.

“Hiiiieeee!”

“Answer me!”

“Myself! I’ve just been working for myself!”

“You already work for me,” Lady Shalltear said.

“You don’t even pay me anything!” Ilyshn’ish whined, “At least these side jobs earn me some coin…”

A long silence grew between them and Ilyshn’ish’s unease mounted. Lady Shalltear smiled slightly before speaking again, and Ilyshn’ish felt her heart sinking as the words left the Vampire’s mouth.

“It appears that you require a great deal of discipline and training,” Lady Shalltear told her. “You have only yourself to blame for any pain that comes your way…”

The skirts of Lady Shalltear’s black gown swept forward across the frosty floor before she even finished speaking, and a pale hand reached out towards Ilyshn’ish. Ilyshn’ish could only think of her mother’s words when she had first arrived in the city.

“No!” She cried, “Get away!”

Desperate to prevent whatever the Vampire was trying to do, she lashed out with her claws, striking with all her might and agility. Razor-sharp talons sliced into Lady Shalltear’s tiny torso, lodging themselves at her waist.

Did I get her? Nothing can survive this, right?

Her hopes were crushed as Lady Shalltear’s smile only widened. Neither she nor anything on her person seemed to have suffered any damage. Rather than showing any distress after having an Adult Dragon’s claws tear into her body, her dreadful, crimson eyes brightened in amusement.

“Well, I suppose that this way works as well.”

“Wha–!”

“「Greater Teleportation」.”

The world shifted, and the broom closet vanished from Ilyshn’ish’s senses.

The Bard

In a world shrouded in endless mysteries, where beings channel the might of the divine, delve into the abyss of the arcane and seek to manipulate the soul itself, Bards may be found in every race, culture and nation. Unlike those who seek mastery over the arcane arts, or strive to become exemplars of their faith, what the Bard pursues is art itself.

Commonly perceived as the charming minstrel spinning his songs in tavern and court alike, or the chroniclers, dancers and playwrights in the employ of noble patrons, true Bards are all this and more: capable of wielding power far beyond what their outward appearance may suggest. In their endless drive to achieve the pinnacle of artistic expression, Bards are found in many forms.

Mighty Giant Skalds who find inspiration for their epic sagas in the thick of pitched battle. Siren Heralds who broadcast information throughout vast aquatic empires. Swindlers who can wring every copper coin from even the most miserly of marks. Adventurers, diplomats, scholars, scoundrels – through their plethora of skills, universal charisma and understanding of lore, customs and people, Bards are well-suited to thrive in every situation that they may find themselves in.

The unifying element of all Bardic classes, regardless of benign or belligerent pursuit, is their ability to transform the mastery of their art into a magic of its own. Spells woven from song, voices that reinforce or subvert the minds of their audience, and deadly dances both beautiful and savage are all renderings of this extraordinary power: feats that influence both ally and enemy alike, altering the disposition of a crowd or shifting the tides of battle.

Yet, more importantly than their individual ability is their place in the world, for their art is the song of the world itself – its peoples, histories, knowledge and spirit – connected through those who travel its length and breadth. Admired by all and loved by all, Bards are welcomed wherever their heart takes them…assuming they are prudent in the use of their many talents.