The halfwit halfling a b.., p.7
The Halfwit Halfling: A Bard's Tale, page 7
“Look around,” she said, waving at her empty dining room. “Does it look like I can afford a pair of extra hands, let alone give away free food? With the shaman out for your blood, I can understand your desperation to get out of town, but I can’t help you. Unless… Do you have any useful Masteries?”
“Mana Sense, Cooking, Sneaking, and Guitar.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I’d unlock something musical sooner or later. “It’s not a lot, I know.”
“What have you been doing with your life? I’d expect a jovian to have something related to farming, brewing or even merchant craft. Maybe something magical? What you did with the guitar made no sense. ”
Did I just give myself away? I needed to think of an answer, quick!
“I was training in the Bardic Arts.” I hoped that it was a real thing. “My master had me focus on the key skills.”
“Then why don’t you have any speech or lore relevant masteries? I’d expect a Bard to have something akin to Beast Taming at least.” She was onto me. Maybe sticking around was a bad idea. I prepared to turn tail and run. “You’re a thief, aren’t you?” she asked, leaning over the bar at me. “It’s fine. I know how you ‘cultured’ races feel about discussing your status and masteries.”
“It’s not that,” I replied, relieved with her assumptions. “After some trouble with a Champion, I’ve been trying to lie low. Keeping my cards close to my chest is for the best.”
Klinkle sighed. Placing her hands on her hips, she stared at me for a moment. “They didn’t release you from prison, did they? Glinga and her da don’t forgive or forget.”
“You got me.” I sighed. “They sentenced me a year of servitude, and this is my day off. I thought I’d try earning some coin for when I get out.
I could tell the ‘no’ was coming, but then her face softened. She looked between me and the door. Maybe expecting help from her was too much. I had duped her grandfather not too long ago.
“I can’t afford to pay you,” she said, with a smile which was probably beautiful by capper standards; I couldn’t tell. “But, tell you what, if you can play that guitar of yours and get some people in here, I’ll share my tips with you. If you’re any good, you might make a little for yourself.”
It was better than nothing. “You’ve got a deal.”
Klinkle raised an eyebrow when I offered her my hand as if she had never been offered one before. Oh no. Was this not the friendly gesture on Game World like it was on Earth? I was starting to hope it wasn’t an insult like thumbs-ups were in Greece—or so I’d heard, but then she firmly grasped my hand firmly and shook it.
I couldn’t tell whether she’d genuinely warmed up to me, or if Fact Begins With Fiction had come into play during our conversation. It didn’t matter. I counted this as a minor victory.
“Just remember, thief, if a single coin goes missing from my money box, I’m handing you over to the shaman. They’ll ensure you lose your lenient sentence.”
Chapter 11
Bar Room Maestro
After three hours of performing, I got the impression that I wasn’t the talented, semi-well-known musician I thought I was. I’d been playing songs written by me, and only a handful of cappers had wandered in. When they turned out to be regulars, my confidence found a new low. With a decade of guitar under my belt, I used to think I was pretty damned good. My new harsh reality and Musician Mastery refusing to budge past the ninth Novice rank shattered the illusion.
Klinkle had an apologetic look on her face. I understood it was out of her hands. It was likely that the business wasn’t hers. Not willing to sacrifice my pride, I didn’t plan on begging her either. Maybe, I’d have put Sneaking Mastery to good use and risk the elements.
As I continued to strum Diya’s strings, I detected two distinct energies. The first, we shared. Trying to read it with my Mana Sense, I got nothing. It was colourless, textureless, and neutral. There was nothing extraordinary or exciting about it. I couldn’t figure out whether it had any purpose besides existing. The other energy was the one that helped me keep warm. It reminded me of the lush green woodlands outside my parents’ house near London and the green fields where I’d walk the family dog, Maya.
Then it occurred to me. I’d never see Maya again. Mum would never push me to focus on my degree. Dad wouldn’t ever tell me to put my hobbies on hold until after graduation. Was I a mysterious disappearance that would someday feature on a Twilight Zone reboot? I suppose I’d never know. The thoughts weighed heavily on my chest.
To distract myself, I needed to lose myself to the music. And, it wasn’t going to happen while I played the songs I’d written. They always made me conscious of what the audience thought of my melodies and the lyrics. Maybe that was a part of why I never got the reaction I wanted.
“Screw it,” I grumbled to myself, abruptly ending the song I’d started only a minute prior. No one so much as looked at me. The only solution was playing a song I’d played a hundred times before. Though I hated myself for it, the first that came to mind was Wonderwall.
Sure, there were dozens of other songs I knew by heart, but I was running out of time. For Klinkle to hold up her end of the bargain, I would need to bring in enough footfall for her to make a profit; which meant, I needed people coming as soon as possible. It left me to wonder whether there was indeed something about the song that I was missing, or it was just the overhyped piece of shit I considered it to be.
So, I started with the riff first. It wasn’t a particularly long song, and I needed the room’s attention. Repeating the opening melody a few times did the job. Klinkle and more than half her patrons were now looking at me. Satisfied, I looped back to the beginning and started singing.
“Today is gonna be the day when you’ll throw your coins to me.” They didn’t know the real song. Maybe if I added suggestive lyrics, my trait would encourage them to tip more.
It was like letting go. I didn’t care whether my audience liked the song or not. It wasn’t mine. As a result, all self-consciousness went out of the window. There was only the music and me. I sensed a screen appear in front of my eyes, but I wasn’t interested in what it had to say. I felt it minimise itself, waiting for my command.
The circulation of Mana between the guitar and me picked up. It wasn’t just the colourless energy but the warm green one as well. As I moved on to the next song, the flow of the latter became overwhelming, and before long, it lulled me into a strange sense of calm.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the tavern anymore. I found myself standing in a thriving woodland and a tree bigger than London’s tallest skyscrapers towered over me. Context told me what it was: the World Tree. It didn’t take long for me to guess what the Green Mana was either. The energy belonged to whatever school of Mana governed over life. However, I got the sense that it wasn’t just a construct of Game World. Did magic exist on Earth as well?
I felt the Mana struggling to break free of the guitar. However, the wood had it trapped inside. Curious, I encouraged it to flow but couldn’t figure out how to aid its quest to freedom.
I was playing the final chords of ‘Hey Jude’ when I noticed the pin-drop silence in the tavern. Opening my eyes, I found the room at maximum capacity. Playing a dozen songs had done the job. Cappers, in all manners of clothing, filled the room. The majority wore clothes similar to Klinkle’s trousers, shirt, and coat; but I saw a fair few in overalls carrying ugly, scrappy gadgets. Among them, there were a few robed cappers too. Much to my relief, I didn’t see any rambans in the crowd.
“Why’d you stop, jovian?” one of the robed cappers called. “Another one! Play another.”
More of the crowd added to his encouragement. Scanning the many smiling faces, I felt happier than I had in a long time. For a moment, I was sure I saw a cat among the many faces, but when I did a double-take, it was gone.
“I need a drink first,” I said. “A water maybe?”
“To the Aelph Lord’s taint with water!” Klinkle yelled, grinning ear to ear. “For that, ye deserve a real drink, lad.”
Then, the room broke into scores of conversations at the same time, and the bar was swarmed with cappers trying to get their orders in. I hoped I’d done enough to earn my room and board.
Though they looked like goblins, capper society didn’t share many resemblances to the wild, violent creatures in Earth’s fantasy novels. I guessed their budding technology was pulling them out of the tribal dark ages the aelf woman thought they were still stuck in. If anything, they reminded me of Peter Jackson’s portrayal of dwarves. Come to think of it. Their Scottish accents did make sense. The brownies in Celtic legends did include goblins.
Did Game World include dwarves? Probably not a pressing concern, but what would they sound like? Vikings?
A slew of notifications popped up, obscuring my vision.
『
Better late than never.
Sometimes the best way to grow is to swallow your pride.
Musician Mastery (Guitar and Vocals) has progressed to the Apprentice: Rank 7!
Control + 1
Charisma + 1
Perception + 1
Musician Mastery (Guitar and Vocals) has progressed to Journeyman: Rank 3!
Control + 1
Charisma + 1
Perception + 1
Congratulations!
By advancing two tiers in a Musician Mastery with a single act, you have attracted divine attention.
Achievement unlocked!
Prodigy of the Strings
Charisma + 2
You have one unassigned stat point.
』
They should have made me happy, but the notifications stung. My songs weren’t good enough. I only progressed after playing music that wasn’t mine. There were more notifications, but I didn’t get the chance to study them. There were too many cappers trying to talk to me. I quickly added the extra point to Charisma before turning my attention to them.
It wasn’t just cappers in the tavern. There were humans and a few reptilian people as well. They barely stood taller than me, displayed brightly coloured scales, and had horns jutting out from the top of their head. I guessed they were the swamp-dwelling kobolds Klinkle mentioned. They toed the line between pretty and terrifying.
When thinking about kobolds, I imagined humanoid creatures with heads like dragons from Earth’s legends and pop culture. Instead, they had disproportionately large skulls in comparison to their body, and their snouts didn’t end at a point, but were more rounded. I guessed they needed their massive skulls to support their dense-looking horns.
“That was a marvellous show you put on,” said the least goblin-like capper in the room. She had two pint-sized mugs in her hands and offered me one. I accepted it graciously and helped myself to a big gulp. It reminded me of the fermented honey drink Elise’s father brewed in his shed. That’s right, mead. “That first ballad of yours, what was it called?”
“Wonderwall?” I answered.
If not for her greyish skin and long pointed ears which grew outwards from the sides of her head, I wouldn’t have known she was a capper at all. Her skin was smooth and didn’t feature warts or scaly textures like the others, and her features were more human than goblinoid. The long braid of red hair hung draped over her shoulder reminded me of the aelphs from race selection.
“Yes, that’s the one.” Taking my hand, she pulled me away from the hearth to the only empty table in a far corner. “Wonderwall. That’s a beautiful name. What’s its story?”
I drew a blank. The only bit of trivia I recalled regarding Wonderwall was that the band disliked the song as much as I did.
“I’m Lefa,” she said, running a hand up my arm. So, she wasn’t particularly interested in an answer. “I’m buying your drinks tonight.”
“That’s awfully generous of you,” I told her, assuring myself I’d stop at two drinks. Though Lefa didn’t look horrendous like the rest of the cappers, she was still one of them. My dry spell may have been in its third month, but I wasn’t going to end it by sleeping with a goblinoid. “You’re in luck then, I’m trying to cut back. Your local brews and I don’t mix well.”
“Oh, I heard what happened. As stupid as that was, we’re glad you did it. Glinga hasn’t left her tent since, and we’ve had some peace and quiet.”
I didn’t have to order food. The cook brought me a plate of hot stew and crusty bread with the first wave of orders. Afraid it might put me off the meal, I let the meat remain unidentified. Underseasoned and gristly, it wasn’t as good as my first meal in Game World, but I appreciated the warmth.
“It’s Perry by the way.” I introduced myself after the first mouthful. Lefa wasn’t as surprised as Klinkle had been when I shook her hand. Was it a matter of social status, or was she more used to the gesture due to her non goblin-like appearance? “Travelling bard and maker of bad decisions.”
“We don’t get a lot of bards on the Table, Perry,” she said. “It’s refreshing to have one of your kind here. I’ve been getting sick of the shaman’s hymns.”
“You don’t have a lot of capper bards?”
“Not quite. The shaman doesn’t allow outside music, afraid it might interfere with his spirit singing.”
Is this what Tolkien’s version of Footloose would have been like?
“We do get the occasional musician coming through,” Lefa continued. “But, I’ve never heard anything like Wonderwall before. The words and the melody touched me deep inside.”
“It has that effect on people,” I said, forcing my eyes not to wander lower. Lefa’s breasts were unusually large but still in proportion to her hour-glass frame. No. I could see in her eyes what she wanted, and I wasn’t going to give in to my sex-starved urges, especially when it was Wonderwall facilitating my carnal desires.
“So, is this what you do? Travel from city to city playing Wonderwall hoping to enchant the most beautiful girl in town?”
Okay. Lefa wasn’t beating around the bush. Was this Charisma at play or was Wonderwall a more powerful song than I gave it credit for. Bloody hell. We weren’t even the same species. I needed to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand.
“Not at all. So tell me about Glinga.” We needed to change the subject. I pushed my mug away. Temptation reared its ugly head when Lefa traced her fingers up my arm. I hoped squeezing my soft, flabby bicep would put her off me. It didn’t. “Why do you and Klinkle hate her so much?”
“She thinks her father’s power is hers,” Lefa replied, rolling her eyes. “The sad thing is, the shaman doesn’t hold as much power as she thinks she does. Not anymore, anyway.” Good. She wasn’t touching me anymore. So, I egged her on. “Well, since the hobgrems started sharing their knowledge with us and we got our own branch of the Tinker’s guild, there is no need for their outdated Covenant magic. We’ve been lobbying for a link to the Artificers and Mages associations for a while now. Once that’s approved, we as a people won’t have any need for shamans.”
“I imagine his faction are desperately trying to keep that from happening?”
She nodded in response to my question.
I had expected Game World to be a wild landscape of monsters and warring champions. Obviously, there was a lot more going on under the surface. If not for the forecasted visit by the Champions of Pestilence, I would have considered sticking around to see where my Charisma would get me.
“Another drink?” Lefa asked when I drained my mug. Given how delicious the beverage was, I couldn’t get myself to say no.
Chapter 12
You’ve Got a Friend in Me
In my dreams, I saw the Tree of Life again. Except, this time I wasn’t alone. At first, I could only sense the other two presences. I knew they were there, but my eyes couldn’t comprehend whatever form they had assumed.
Approaching its towering height, I pressed my palm against the mossy trunk. It didn’t feel like bark or moss should. Instead, it had the same feel as warm, soft skin. I touched my forehead to the bark, and the tree’s warm Mana washed over me. Then, the tree started pulling on the energy deep inside me. The pull was strong and threatening. I tried to get away, but the trunk’s drag wouldn’t let me go. I tried inhaling and exhaling deeply, but I failed to get my racing heart under control. Sure, I was in a dream so I tried waking myself up, but that didn’t work either.
When the Tree of Life released me, I staggered backwards and fell on my bottom.
“She’s sending you a message,” a husky male voice said, making me jump. When I turned around, a short, muscular aelf in baggy brown white trousers and a red vest was standing behind me. “The Tree of Life can take just as easily it gives. She may have granted you a fragment of her power, but it’s not something to be taken lightly.”
I didn’t need to scan him with my Mana Sense to know. He was divinity. The air around him rippled with every syllable that left his lips, and my eyes struggled to hold his gaze.
“What makes you think I’m taking it lightly?” I asked.
“Just conveying the message.” He stared at me for a moment. “I know you have questions on your mind. Why don’t you ask them?”
Maybe he was a Cosmic or something similar, and he was using this as an opportunity to flex his power. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, I held my tongue. When the man walked towards me, the ground under my feet vibrated, and the wind whistled. He placed a hand on my shoulder, making every bone in my body hum. Though his attempt at intimidation was successful, I didn’t flinch. Instead, I looked him in the eye and smiled.
“I told you, he’s an interesting one,” a second voice said. It was female and husky. It would have been enticing in a mellow way, like the scent of a freshly opened bottle of Belgian wheat beer, if I hadn’t recognized the speech pattern.
