260 Chapter 21 “A banquet?” said Calto. He turned away from warming himself by the fireplace and shot Kuahel Leon a puzzled look. Unsurprisingly, there was a hint of disapproval on the elder’s face. Terrible forces could be controlling the allied monster army from the shadows at this very moment. One would have hoped the church would spend its resources preparing for a possible war instead of such frivolities. Maxi looked up at the Temple Knight with reproof, but he paid them no mind. He strode to the traveler’s table and took an empty seat. “Who is hosting the banquet?” Kuahel asked the man. “I heard it is the high priest, Garis. He plans on inviting the nobles to this grand event to celebrate the Holy Feast Day. We started out from Arex as soon as we heard the news. We’re hoping to find work there, you see.” The traveler pointed to the mandolin hanging on his side. So he was a bard. Maxi noted the people who appeared to be the man’s travel companions sitting at a neighboring table. The six young men and women all carried instruments on their backs. Clubs and daggers hung from their waists, likely for self-defense. The band raised their tankards in unison and flashed genial smiles at the mages. “My friends and I are a musical troupe. With winter coming so early this year, the nobles have been holding fewer banquets, likely because of the bad harvest. We were desperate for work when we heard things were better in Osiriya, so we decided to make the long journey there.” “Did you travel through Dristan?” Kuahel asked, stroking his chin with a gloved hand. When the bard nodded, the knight waved a server over. “Bring me some ale.” He turned his gaze back to the troupe. “Would you care to join us? I’d like to hear about the situation in Dristan. I’ve heard more monsters have been spotted there recently. Did you encounter any on the way?” “We had a run-in with a pack of gorgons, but we managed to survive because we were with a merchant band until we reached the border. Still, I’ve heard stories of ghouls in the southern regions. With more people moving northwest, the food shortage has only worsened.” The musical troupe seemed more than happy to join tables with the expeditionary party, and Maxi listened with avid interest as they began sharing various tidbits they had picked up on their travels. It was common for nobles to invite troupes to their castles for entertainment. Though she had met countless bards and jesters at Croyso Castle, conversing with them at the same table was a first. They gave a colorful account of their journey with great eloquence. Maxi learned that Dristan’s royal family was facing a succession crisis and that the food shortage problem had reignited territorial disputes in its western regions. The other mages appeared to be listening with keen interest as well. Having been cloistered away on an island for so long, they were all hungry for news. Among the travelers was a woman in her late thirties. She said glumly between sips of beer, “Dristan is in a state of turmoil. Political strife, food shortages, and now monsters. The mercenaries say the number of undead has increased threefold since last year. All those corrupted corpses had to have come from somewhere — I’m sure they’re from the war three years ago. Imagine those tens of thousands of bodies buried without being purified, roaming the world as monsters.” Maxi bit her lip as she thought back to the Battle of Eth Lene. Recalling ghouls clawing their way out of the ground and the ensuing chaos was enough to make her back prickle with cold sweat. Had she been unlucky, she could have ended up as an undead herself. Even now, it was still a possibility. Should she meet a tragic end and be buried in the desolate wasteland of the Plateau without the proper funeral rites, her soul would wander the underworld in eternal torment. She grew cold as the danger she had gotten herself into fully dawned on her. The other mages grew still as though they, too, were gripped with fear. A heavy silence settled over the group, evidently annoying Anette. Pausing from tearing apart a chunk of lamb, she clicked her tongue and said, “Enough of this doom and gloom. You’re ruining my appetite. I’d rather not have to think about such things when we’re finally enjoying some rest with a roof over our heads.” “Ah, my apologies. We have dampened the mood,” said the bard. He ruefully scratched the back of his head. “May I make up for it with a performance? Consider it an apology, and a thanks for the ale.” With a gentle smile, the bard extracted his mandolin from the leather pack on his shoulder. “We might not look it, but we are quite well-known in the eastern regions. Name a song you’d like to hear, and we will play it for you.” Sidina, who was eating at a table near the wall with the wind mages, called out excitedly, “I would like a heroic epic! Something about the adventures of Wigrew and Darian’s twelve knights, if you please. Preferably one with lots of dashing men!” Noting Sidina’s ale-flushed face, Maxi furtively looked over at the Temple Knights. Was it not improper for them to get so intoxicated in front of these men of the cloth? The Temple Knights remained silent, and Kuahel Leon kept his pensive gaze on the crackling fire, his head leaning on the wall. The flickering flames cast a shadow over his face, and Maxi wondered what he was thinking. Throughout the journey thus far, the Temple Knights had not spoken unless necessary, and the mages had been equally as reluctant to strike up conversation. Both groups had kept their distance as if they were strangers on the same path by sheer coincidence. Though Maxi had certainly not expected the mages to get along with the paladins, she wondered if they would even be able to work together when the time came. Her face was clouding with concern when lively music began to fill the room. She turned her gaze to the bard, surprised by the man’s skill in playing the mandolin in the dim light of the inn. The man was a virtuoso. Nimbly plucking the strings, he began singing a song of ancient heroes. His companions joined him on their flute, tambourine, mandolin, lute, and rebec. The sudden festive atmosphere melted Maxi’s worries. When the song reached its climax, a drunk Sidina pulled Kiel, another wind mage, to his feet and drew him into a spinning dance. Anette howled with laughter at Kiel’s miserable face as he was hauled around. A few of the mages joined them and stamped their feet in time to the music. When the eight-verse song finally ended, the exhilarated mages promptly requested an encore. Royald and Joel, two mages of Undaim, waved their tankards and exclaimed, “One about a beauty this time!” Everyone was so inebriated that they had forgotten about the ten clergymen sitting among them. Maxi flicked an anxious glance at the Temple Knights’ impassive faces. The men were quietly eating their meal as though completely uninterested in the merriment happening around them. Maxi shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was about to admonish her peers when the bard’s cheerful voice cut through. “Ah, if it’s a song about a beauty, how about The Scarlet Lady?” “Is that a famous one?” Sidina asked. “Have you not heard it?” said the bard, cocking his head. “It was written by Valrog, only the greatest bard in the Western Continent. It is a piece beloved by many.” Tuning his mandolin, the bard added, “Valrog fought in the war three years ago. He almost lost his life but was saved by the Scarlet Lady. When the war ended, he composed this in her honor and sang it all across the continent to express his gratitude. It is currently one of the most popular songs in Roviden.” “Oh my, how romantic.” Ever the enthusiast for a good love story, Sidina clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. “A song about the love between a bard and a noblewoman, transcending social classes!” “Alas, it is not meant as a romantic tale. The lady is already spoken for. Valrog wrote it out of pure admiration for her.” The bard’s lips curled into a wide grin. “And her husband is none other than Sir Riftan, the greatest knight in the continent.” Maxi almost spurted beer through her nose. When she bent over into a coughing fit, Ulyseon shot to his feet and began patting her back. “My, are you all right, miss?” the bard said, startled by her reaction. “Y-Yes—” Maxi choked out, waving her hand to show that she was fine. She heard Anette’s wry voice chime in. “So… it’s an ode to the Dragon Slayer’s wife?” Maxi flinched, her shoulders stiffening. Seemingly oblivious to the odd silence that had befallen the mages, the bard jovially replied, “That is so. I’m sure you have heard about the Lady Calypse as well. She is the mage who rescued Eth Lene Castle from the besieging monster army and helped us win the war. According to the soldiers there, Lady Calypse is a woman of angelic beauty with stunning, fiery-red hair. Because of her story, young women have even taken to wearing red wigs to imitate her.” Her cheeks growing hot, Maxi slowly pulled her hood over her head. She wanted to give the source of these spurious rumors a good shake. She felt that the original composer might have written the song more out of ill will than admiration. She was desperately looking for a place to hide when Ulyseon muttered, “Rumors usually tend to be exaggerated, but stories about you have been strangely understated, my lady. How could they not add that you are lovelier than a nymph, wiser than a sage, and braver than a lion?” An overwhelming urge to clamp the young man’s mouth shut surged through her, and she ground her teeth. Fortunately, the bard appeared not to have heard Ulyseon over all the noise. After watching Maxi with glee, Anette said with a smirk, “I’d love to hear such an amazing song.” “I shall play it to the best of my abilities.” The bard cleared his throat before his baritone voice began to fill the room. Oh God, hear our cries of terror; Sable monsters stand beyond our walls, Swinging their spears of steel. Ah, deliver us before the end. Was she the deliverance? Your answer to our prayers? The Scarlet Lady climbed the mountain alone, The Scarlet Lady broke through the darkness. Her valor became the iron mace That crushed our enemies from above; Cries of victory shook our walls As we witnessed deliverance unfold before our eyes. Ah, even as the sun fades and darkness engulfs the world, We shall not fear For we know that when dawn arrives, The flame-haired angel will bring us the flag of victory. The delicate melody gently resonated around the inn. Maxi waited in tortured silence for it to be over. To her great dismay, the song was four verses long. Breaking out into a cold sweat, she did not dare raise her head to look at the faces of her companions. It was not until she was close to fainting from the shame that the bard finally played the last note.