Chapter 14: Part 14: The Curl of Smoke Rising from the Pyres

Almost like the mysterious bard had heard them talking about his work all the way from Eldfäst that previous winter, come that autumn there arrived a second song. And this one was even more outlandish than the first.

Something about a princess in a tower, she and the whole countryside around her cursed by some dark spell. Enter, of course, the brave Paladin; riding up to outwit the witch behind it and save them one and all.

Villagers had actually sat down at Sebastian's table after that bullshit. Walked right up, bold as you please to interrupt his hard-earned meal. Only to then start arguing to his face the finer points of monster hunting with him. As if they had even the faintest fucking clue the difference between a dragoneel and a draugr.

The shock on their faces too, when Sebastian told them to either buy him a drink first or fuck off and let him eat his meal in peace. Like it was their right or something to invade his personal space and waste his time spewing whatever nonsense they pleased.

To his surprise though, more than a few of them had at least been decent enough to stand him a pint or two of the local rotgut.

There had even been one especially memorable night with a barmaid, looking for a glimpse of the greater world. Seeking a bit of excitement to liven up her life in a small backwater village perhaps. Excitement Sebastian was more than happy to provide. Frankly, he hadn't been able to believe his luck when she had softly touched his shoulder, whispering into Sebastian's ear an invitation to her bed that night.

That certainly hadn't been anything like a hardship. He didn't mind letting those kinds of folk sit down at his table and pepper him with questions. Sebastian would spin them a few stories about some of his more interesting jobs, glancing meaningfully at his mug whenever it got too low.

But most didn't even bother with so much as that little consideration for his time. And those he felt no qualms just up and leaving — sometimes mid-long-winded sentence — just as soon as he had finished his meal.

And when the local musician started playing the damn things? He'd learned he had better be up and out like a shot or else they would try to pull him into the performance, much to the amusement of the crowd.

 

But the worst part was, sometimes…sometimes the songs worked.

The things were fucking catchy. And somehow their popularity showed no sign of slowing down even after a few years, either. In fact, Oskarl reported coming across one bard already introducing them as "classic folktales" before launching into her own rendition, much to Sebastian and his fellow Relict's consternation on hearing such news.

The song had managed to make fighting against common-as-muck greblings and draugr into something that…well, it sounded like some kind of heroic ballad. Which it technically was now. Which was a weird thing to think about maybe, when you got right down to it, really.

It was a topic of frequent conversation within Eldfäst's walls each Mistide. Dozens of stories about minor improvement for nearly all the Relics returned from the Path.

Things seemed like they were getting better. Marginally.

When Sebastian came knocking on their door for a monster job, there wasn't quite that same spiteful gleam in the aldermen's eye he'd grown used to seeing. The one that he had long ago learned always meant "I'll be aiming to pay you in clipped coins and toenails by the time I'm finished haggling."

Sometimes they would even through in a bonus if the job turned out to be larger than expected. At least, according to Destan when he had talked about the night wraith he had been contracted to clear out. That job had turned out to be a whole nest of shadea, and he'd said that the alderman had actually paid him double for the additional work.

Fucking miracle.

Even Emrick came back that Mistide reporting how few fights he had gotten into over the season, too. Though whether he was complaining or bragging, changed by the day.

But now, each time Sebastian followed up on rumors of a monster, he found himself having to do some little song and dance. Grit his teeth and make the townsfolk feel important. Make them feel like they too had a problem worthy of a song. When in reality, it was barely the fifth nest of greblings Sebastian had cleared out already only that month.

Hard to make getting covered in slime and muck and drool sound like a heroic adventure.

Ever since that damn bard had started singing about them, Sebastian had to put in an awful lot of extra effort just so he could do his damn job.

Take the job last summer; when Sebastian had been hired by another small village to investigate a possible werewolf attack. He'd been questioning some of the locals for potential leads, right? Standard stuff. But then the village alderman who was overseeing the contract began to hum one of the wretched tunes under his breath.

Sebastian had been so surprised, that he'd nearly just walked away.

Soon as he had recognized the tune, he had mentally written the job off. Had gone so far as to stand up from the rickety little wooden table they had been sat at, already gone to grabbing for his gear. But…the rushes strewn across the tavern's floor could be felt through the thinning soles of his boots as he'd stood. And he had seen the little holes starting to appear in his nearly worn-out runegloves when he had stooped down to reach for his bags.

The woodsman they had been talking to had smiled to hear the tune, taking up the song as well. Soon enough, the whole damned tavern had joined in, like some fucking singalong.

And Sebastian — well, he'd had to stand there like a chump, hadn't he? Clenching his jaw tight against the words that threatened to spill out. Wait as the crowd made their enthusiastic way through all five damn verses of the fucking thing. Instead of just telling them to go piss into the wind like he wanted to so badly.

Even weirder? It wasn't even an isolated incident, either.

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Fucking annoying.

 

But despite all that, the anonymous — and no doubt highly fictionalized — bard of the song…

She — or…he, Sebastian supposed, though from the lyrics he had just assumed…

Whoever the bard was; they didn't seem to be scared of or disgusted by the Paladin they followed, the way most humans tended to be of Relicts. At least, not enough to stop traveling together, according to the songs.

Course, they were following around a Paladin. Them as thought they were so great and mighty, so very much better than your average Relict. Wasn't as difficult maybe, to find one human out there that actually seemed to appreciate the job they did. That seemed to care enough about whether a Relict lived or died.

Not that Sebastian was jealous or anything.

It’s just that…Sebastian knew he wasn’t exactly what you would call the most sociable guy to begin with. His sarcasm and temper had won him more enemies than friends over the years; gotten him into far more than his fair share of fights, ever since he had been a scrawny trainee that couldn't tell his parry from his riposte.

And sure, he had his friends back at Eldfäst but —

If it weren't for Destan and Oskarl and Emrick sticking up for him back when the bigger kids had gotten it into their heads to teach Sebastian a lesson; when he'd annoyed the Path-walking Relicts past the limits of their patience; when he had pissed off every last one of his instructors; when he had asked too many questions of the mages, been too impertinent, too disrespectful of their oh-so-august personages…

Well.

Was it any wonder he had imprinted on the older Relicts like a little duckling; following them all over Eldfäst, wherever they would let him?

Even after all these decades, it was still just those three that tolerated Sebastian among all the other Relicts that filled Eldfäst at the end of each year.

Not exactly like he could rely on his Levymates, now was it?

But even then…

Relicts walked their Paths alone; Old Thamas had beaten that rule into their heads as trainees often enough. Sebastian wouldn't see his friends but a handful of months a year, and spring through autumn was a long damn time to spend alone inside your own fucking head.

So it just — It just sounded kinda nice sometimes, alright?

Having someone to watch your back, to chat about your contracts with. Talk about the places you'd traveled and things you'd see. Maybe…maybe even someone to share a bedroll with, if Sebastian's going to go about making up his own telltales.

Silly flights of fancy, that was for fucking sure.

But…If in the wee hours of the morning when Sebastian finally lay down after a long day and night hunting too many monsters for too little coin; if he entertained the idea of someone actually wanting to travel along with him...

It’s not like anyone else was going to know about it besides his horse and the stars, right?

 

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Author's Notes:

Hey, I need your help!

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