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The Crime Lord Bard - Chapter 12: The First Performance
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 00:15:07 +0000 UTCJamie tapped his foot impatiently against the tavern's worn wooden floor, his eyes fixed on the stage where the old bard stubbornly clung to his performance. Despite the copious amounts of wine he'd consumed, the minstrel seemed remarkably resistant to its effects, lasting several hours longer than anyone anticipated. At long last, the wine claimed victory, sending him stumbling off the stage and silencing his off-key humming.
"Thank the gods," Jamie muttered, massaging his weary ears. "He sounded like a crowing rooster by the end."
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the tavern was more crowded than ever. Not only was Elize darting between tables to serve the influx of patrons, but several other maidens had joined in the effort. Every corner brimmed with people, their animated conversations weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the smoky air.
"How is it that no fights have broken out yet?" Jay mused aloud, eyeing the drunken men teetering on the edge of brawling.
Jamie shrugged nonchalantly before pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. With purposeful strides, he made his way to the center of the stage. Unslinging his fiddle, he took his place under the flickering lantern light.
"Ladies and gentlemen! A pleasure to make your acquaintance," he called out with confidence. Yet, the crowd's attention remained fixed on their mugs and merry-making. Undeterred, the young bard continued.
"My name is Jamie, a traveling bard, and I hope my songs bring you delight!"
Before the audience could muster a response—be it cheers or jeers—Jamie drew his bow across the strings with fervor. A powerful, spirited melody burst forth, slicing through the haze of alcohol that clouded the patrons' senses.
Each chord resonated with weight and rhythm, unlike anything they'd heard before. Anger and defiance wove through the notes, channeling the frustrations of those who had labored all day only to seek solace in a mug of cheap wine. Jamie's music reached their weary hearts, awakening emotions long dulled by routine and hardship.
As the final note hung in the air, Jamie lowered his fiddle. The tavern fell into a breathless hush; every eye turned toward the stage. For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, the room erupted into thunderous applause and joyous shouts.
"That's a true bard if I ever saw one!" a man exclaimed.
"Bring me another wine! We need to toast to that performance!"
Even the serving girls paused, entranced by the music before the clamor of new orders pulled them back into motion.
Nestled at a table near the stage, Jay watched with a satisfied grin, his tail swaying happily behind him.
At the front of the stage sat a small open chest, its lid propped wide to welcome the coins that began to fill it—bronze pieces clinking melodiously and even a few silver coins gleaming among them. But it wasn't the growing pile of money that captured Jamie's attention. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the fiery golden letters floating before him:
| Congratulations! Your audience was moved by your music.
| +60 Experience Points
‘So, I can become more powerful through my influence and music?’ Jamie mused, a curious smile playing on his lips.
Wasting no time, the bard plunged into his second song. It was another melody from his own world, subtly altered to resonate with the people of Kjarnheim.
Fellow armsmen, gather near,
Hear my call beneath the moon so clear.
Will you stand by me this night,
To break their spine and set things right?Once they wronged me, sly and cruel,
Betrayed my trust—how dark their rule.
No more shall such crimes be seen—
Raise your blades; let the hunt begin!
As the powerful verses flowed, the patrons became increasingly roused. Many began to pound their tankards—full or empty—upon the wooden tables, creating a rhythmic thunder that echoed Jamie's fervor. Some looked poised to start brawls then and there, while others shouted vehemently from their seats.
"It's all the City Guard's fault!"
"Those cursed corrupt dogs!"
"We should burn down their fortress!"
The Fat Pig tavern edged closer to chaos with each passing moment—a powder keg awaiting a spark.
Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a resounding crash as the tavern doors were thrown open. A contingent of city soldiers, clad in uniformed armor and brandishing drawn swords, streamed in. They swiftly spread out, their blades glinting ominously in the dim light.
Jamie was not surprised. He had anticipated that the uproar or spreading rumors might eventually draw the guards' attention, but he hadn't expected them to arrive so swiftly.
"Burn down what?!" shouted one of the guards, his voice cutting through the din. Unlike the rank-and-file soldiers flanking him, this man wore several medals pinned to his chest—a captain, by the look of him.
"Arrest them all!" he commanded sharply. "Let's see if they're still brave after a night in the cells!"
The soldiers advanced steadily, weapons pointed toward the patrons. Tension thickened the air—it was clear that one wrong move could ignite an all-out brawl, something no one genuinely desired at that moment.
"Now, let's all calm down," said a measured voice. Mr. Bones, the proprietor of the tavern, stepped forward with deliberate ease. “Captain, might I have a word with you?" he asked, his tone conciliatory.
Bones moved with a subtle sway, approaching the captain without haste. The two men began conversing in low tones, their heads inclined toward one another as they walked slowly toward the stage. Their hushed dialogue was inaudible over the crowd's restless murmurs, but their demeanor suggested a negotiation was underway.
"Come now, Captain," Mr. Bones said smoothly, though a dangerous glint sparkled in his eyes as they flicked toward Jamie. "Let's not jeopardize a profitable establishment like ours over a few overly enthusiastic patrons. Unfortunately, our bard here is new to the city and has brought some rather incendiary tunes with him."
Jamie lowered his fiddle, letting his music's last echo fade. He watched the exchange carefully, noting every nuance in Bones's demeanor.
"Despite these heated conversations," Bones continued in a calming tone, "tonight has been quite advantageous for all of us." He gestured toward the small chest at the front of the stage. "Just look—the lad's little box is brimming with coins."
With a practiced air of nonchalance, Bones reached into Jamie's donation chest, scooping up a handful of coins—bronze gleaming alongside a few silver pieces—and held them up for the captain of the guard to see.
‘Just as I suspected,’ Jamie thought to himself, his gaze sharp. ‘So this is how he plans to swindle me.’
Bones produced a small cloth pouch and began transferring dozens of coins into it. Once full, he offered the bulging sack to the captain, who maintained a facade of stern disapproval. Yet Jamie could discern the subtle satisfaction in the captain's eyes—a man pleased to pocket a little extra gold on such a night.
"Since that's the way of it, Mr. Bones," the captain said, tucking the pouch into his belt, "I'll instruct my soldiers not to trouble you further this evening. However, ensure there's no more talk of arson—or anything else that might reach the Governor's ears."
"Of course, Captain," Bones replied with a respectful nod.
The captain curtly ordered his men to withdraw. As they exited the tavern, the soldiers sheathed their swords and cast wary glances at the patrons. The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by the hum of uneasy whispers.
Jamie stepped off the stage, intending to slip away, but Bones swiftly intercepted him. "Well then, lad! Carry on with your playing," he commanded, his tone leaving little room for argument.
"I believe I've done enough for one night," Jamie responded evenly.
Bones's eyes hardened, a greedy edge creeping into his voice. "If you finish early, you won't receive your share of the night's earnings."
Jamie met his gaze without flinching. "Don't trouble yourself," he said confidently. "Keep my payment in exchange for one of your rooms."
Before Bones could retort, Jamie turned on his heel and made his way toward the staircase leading to the tavern's upper floor.
From a nearby table, Jay leaped gracefully into the air, effortlessly floating after Jamie.
Reaching the second floor, Jamie selected one of the unoccupied rooms. It was modest: a simple bed with worn linens, a rickety wooden chair, and a narrow window overlooking the dimly lit alley below. He tossed his belongings onto the bed, shrugging off his cloak and loosening the collar of his tunic.
"What did you make of it?" Jamie asked, glancing at Jay as the creature perched atop the bedpost.
"It’s horrible.," Jay replied, licking his paw with an air of indifference. "But intriguing."
Jamie chuckled softly. "Yes. Quite intriguing."
Jay tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Do you think we've found the right place?"
"We have," Jamie affirmed, a determined glint in his eyes.
| Your words of revolution set your listener’s hearts on fire
| + 100 Experience Points
