NOVEL NEXT B2 Chapter 50: Word on the Street
B2 Chapter 50: Word on the Street
"Wait!"
Marcus called up to the gatesmen with a cheery wave and a flash of his brightly-colored cloak. He slung his lute from his back to his front to more clearly convey his profession. After all, no one denied entry to a bard. Not when letting him in could mean an hour or so of entertainment around the barracks and guardhouses.
By himself, Marcus had wheedled his way inside many a town or city far past when he should have been allowed in. Of course, his hooded companion was a different story. But that was why they were running. So long as the gate wasn't down, they stood a much better chance.
At his shout, the guard turned away from the winch and gave them a quick once-over. He seemed to debate for half a second before stepping toward the still partially open gate and waving Marcus forward. Marcus and Iladrien both redoubled their pace.
"My thanks, good sir!" Marcus said, managing to pant only slightly as they slipped beneath the gate. He flipped a silver coin the guard's way. The guard caught it, and the coin disappeared so quickly that Marcus wasn't even certain where it had been secreted off to. Either the man had quite an impressive [Sleight of Hand] skill or some specific skill related to taking bribes. Marcus had never heard of such a thing but wouldn't honestly be surprised.
"Of course. Though you're lucky. You made it just in time." The guard heaved between each sentence as he finished lowering the gate. The massive portcullis settled into place with a thud of finality. As it came to a halt, the guard sighed and dusted off his hands. "Gates have been closing at sundown exactly the past couple of weeks."
"Oh? That certainly seems early. What brought about that kind of change?" Marcus asked, surprised. Guard shifts were certainly an area of interest to Gaius, as would be the news that led to a heightened sense of security.
"Yep. Sunup to sundown. It used to be midnight to sunup we would close." The guard said, seeming more than happy to talk. His expression turned bitter. "Means I've still got another four and a half hours on my shift, it does."
Marcus nodded in commiseration. That certainly explained the willingness to talk. Still, he wouldn't mind listening to the man's complaints so long as they proved informative.
"As for why things changed all of a sudden… Well. There's talk of something going on over in the southeast. Some kind of trouble brewing."
"Trouble?"
"Yep. Word is there's something nasty that's causing havoc through the whole barony of Wellshire. I heard it wiped out a whole army of adventurers that the baron sent to deal with it—level twenties and thirties, too! I wouldn't expect the place to last another week, if it's not all razed to the ground already."
Marcus's eyebrows shot up with interest, but he didn't betray a hint of anything else. "My, that certainly is a cause for concern. Tell me, have you heard what form this great threat has taken?"
The guard shrugged. "The details are a bit fuzzy on that one. You hear a lot of different stories from people coming through, you understand. Some claim it's giant spiders swarming out of the forest. Others say the elves have all of a sudden decided to invade. I even heard one crazy old coot babbling about a dragon. A dragon! Can you believe that?"
The guard chuckled and shook his head. Marcus just smiled while Iladrien remained silent next to him.
"Me, I'd guess it's orcs." The guard continued. "They probably snuck around the other side of Novara somehow. Bad news for the war if that's the case. But anyway. I'm surprised a bard hadn't heard about all this already."
"Oh, I've heard my fair share of tales." Marcus winked. "But none that I'd swear by. Well, not unless I was in front of an audience."
The guard let out a hearty laugh. "Fair enough. Well, I'm sure that you'll hear even more rumors from folks around the city. Though with how things have been, I'd wager they'll want to hear stories of a more heroic sort. If you're planning on playing, of course."
"Always." Marcus reassured him. "Do you know any places that might appreciate some entertainment tonight?"
"Hmm…" The guard coughed, and Marcus flipped him another coin. This time it was only a copper, though the guard didn't look disappointed. They both knew this info was far less valuable than letting someone through the gate at the last minute.
A smile brightened the guard's face. "Now that you mention it, there is one place that comes to mind. The Feathered Crown. It's not too far from here, and the owner is a friend of mine. I'm sure she'd set you up with a good deal. Just tell her Blythe sent you."
After getting directions, Marcus and his companion bid the guard farewell and headed into the city. Though the gate was closing, that didn't mean that the place itself was any less busy. The streets bustled with people and carriages rushing about. A few small clusters of vendors that had staked out a spot nearest the gate shouted at passerby, hawking their wares or advertising various stores within the city.
Marcus breathed it all in. It had been too long since he had been to a city—a real, proper city. One with all the conveniences and trappings of modern life. Sure, he was still talking all necessary precautions to alter his face with [Glamour] while he was here, but the stamina drain was worth it. It was good to be back.
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He continued walking past them all, offering an apologetic smile here or a few words there as appropriate. By his side, he noticed Iladrien taking in the sights with interest, the elven envoy scanning his surroundings as though to fix them in his mind.
"If there's anything in particular you'd like to see, don't hesitate to stop me." Marcus offered. "While an inn will likely be one of the better venues at which to gather information, I can quite easily make do wherever we are."
The elf thought a moment, then shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but will decline. I suspect that I'll have enough to keep me busy simply by going about our mission."
He kept his voice low as he answered. They'd previously agreed to let Marcus do the talking, not just because of his familiarity with cities and his status as a bard, but also because of his accent. Elven speech did not endow Iladrien with as distinct an accent as some, but it was distinctly foreign—enough that it may invite questions they did not want to deal with.
Marcus sensed a bit of hesitation in the man's refusal. "Are you certain? Nowhere at all? A market, the crafting district, a theater? I won't judge if you'd like to see some of the, shall we say, seedier sides of the city either."
"Ah?" Iladrien perked up at the last option. "Is there a public garden in the city then?"
Marcus stared at him. "No. I mean, not one worth noting. Why would you—oh. Oh. What a clever bit of wordplay, friend!"
He chuckled at the elf's wittiness before recognizing the look of confusion written plain across his face. Marcus coughed into his hand. "Er… no. By 'seedier' I meant more… unsavory. Like perhaps a poorer district of the city or a brothel or…"
Iladrien did well to keep his expression still. Yet Marcus could still make out a slight flush to his features. "Ah. I see. Thank you, but no. If you do insist, however, perhaps a market would prove interesting."
"A market. Perfect." Marcus smiled. "I was planning to take us that direction anyway."
He returned his attention to the city around them, mentally reviewing Gaius's list of questions as he did. Most of them he could get answered at any halfway decent inn. The rest were… stranger. Why did the man want to know the going prices for so many goods? Metals and various pieces of equipment made sense, but grain? Was Gaius a soldier or a farmer?
He set the matter aside. What was going through the Legionnaire's head wasn't his concern right now, even if he was a little curious. But if he wanted to get answers at the market, then they'd want to get moving before evening's onset.
***
As the sky darkened, the pair found their way into the dim common room of the Feathered Crown. Its ale-soaked tables were less than halfway full of customers despite the relatively late hour, which was never a good sign for such an establishment. Behind its long counter stood a woman polishing an empty glass with a rag.
A few inquiries from Marcus had let him know that the place had fallen on a bit of hard luck as of late though, so it wasn't unexpected. If anything, it was an opportunity. A quality bard drawing a crowd was usually worth a few drinks, but he was all but certain this place would be willing to throw in a free room or two.
Marcus led Iladrien toward the counter straightaway, his purple cloak drawing looks of interest from the patrons immediately. More interest, it seemed, than the comparatively plain fellow in the hood at his side. The woman behind the bar looked up as they approached, her eyes widening.
"Good evening, milady." Marcus bowed theatrically. "My name is Yonnas, and I am but a humble traveling bard. I—"
"A bard?!" The woman "Oh, thank the gods! Finally, one that hasn't been snatched away by those pricks at the Tipsy Troubadour. Please, please, make yourself at home! We have a stage right over there if you'd like to perform! I'd be sure to make it worth your while!"
The woman was clearly desperate as she practically bustled Marcus to the stage. He held out a hand to calm her. "Please, please milady! Of course I'd love to perform. Especially if you could provide rooms for my friend and I."
The woman's eyes sharpened. "For both of you? Hmmm… perhaps one I can do, but two may be more than I can afford to give… Especially since I guarantee you'll find no cleaner rooms on this side of Dellend!"
"I assure you, you'll see more than their value returned to you in purchased drink by the night's end. Especially if I am motivated by a cut of whatever is brought in." Marcus's eyes glittered.
The pair went back and forth, bartering over what Marcus's services were worth. In the end, he managed to snag two rooms and a small purse of coin for his time, provided that he managed to fill the inn with patrons.
Marcus shook his head with a chuckle and got ready to perform. It truly was nice to be appreciated. Of course, he could easily find a place in a more prestigious and high-class place than this, but doing so would take more time and walking than he really wanted to commit to. Besides, his face was a little more well known among those circles, enough that he didn't want to risk showing it—even disguised as it was.
With one final look over his lute, he settled onto a stool atop the stage. Most of the patrons sitting around the room looked up with interest at the promise of some entertainment, but not all of them. Marcus would have to change that.
He struck up a jaunty tune, an old favorite with words well-known enough to sing along to. The song had men all around the room tapping their feet and shouting along in mere moments. The music spilled out the door and into the streets beyond, and before his first number was over, more laborers and passerby were already peeking their heads in to investigate.
Marcus kept up the energy. Song after song he played, drawing more and more people into the Feathered Crown until it was packed to the rafters. The increasingly inebriated singing of its patrons rose in volume and enthusiasm as the barmaids rushed about to refill tankards and glasses.
He glanced toward a corner of the room. There, Iladrien sat at the only table that wasn't entirely full, a corner booth that would have seated four. He wasn't entirely sure whether he'd managed to keep everyone else away through a skill, a spell, or simply by emitting an unfriendly aura. But whatever it was, it worked. Well enough that Marcus was able to sneak the coins that began overflowing his lute case to the elf every once in a while as he listened in on the conversations around them.
After all, he was making a killing. He always did. How could he not? He was a proper [Royal Bard] bard, not some humble tavern musician screeching away on a flute. His skills were of the sort that impressed kings—or, more recently, emperors.
But a glance about the room revealed that drunkards were not the only ones taking in his performance. A few considerably shadier figures hung about the edges of the room, each doing their best not to watch him too intently. Marcus kept a close eye on them without letting slip that he'd noticed. He wouldn't have been surprised if at least one worked for the duke.
He tried to get a feel for what they wanted of course. But as the night wore on and the ale flowed freely, there was one more figure that caught his attention. A serving girl with sapphire eyes and just the right amount of curves.
It really was good to be back in a proper city.