Chapter 52: 3.14 – The Keep Over the Borderlands

The feel of the bass line thrummed lightly through Robin’s body as he performed on the stage of The Bell and Boar. He’d spent the past few nights practising and translating some lyrics into the local language. [Tongue of the Fallen Tower] did a lot of the heavy lifting. Those words rolled around Robin now, enhanced by his constant use of [Lesser Phantasm]. Honestly, a higher-level version of the spell could not come soon enough.

????We are the champions, my friends????

The whole tavern was singing along. That was one great thing about rock. It usually had a chorus people could grab on and sing to quick. And this was one of the greatest examples Robin could think of.

????And we’ll keep on fighting ‘til the end????

It fit the mood; it fit the circumstances. And can you every truly go wrong with an overwrought and operatic rock number? No. No, you can’t.

And it didn’t hurt that Robin had such a wealth of remembered material, time tested and beloved, and entirely fresh to this world, to draw on to complete his introductory bard quest.

????We are the champions????we are the champions????

Robin had been performing for nearly an hour. His throat was raw and his hands were in absolute agony from the constant spellcasting. He was determined to seize this chance, however. It wasn’t every day you got a free venue, a crowd as warm and cheerful as this lot were (thanks to their recent success against Basgar’s warehouses), and the added lubrication of several pints of The Bell and Boar’s best drink passed about. With the deck stacked in his favour like that, he’d be hard pressed to lose.

Unless someone else upstaged him.

Robin caught sight of Lena entering the tavern. Oh no. Not this time.

????We are the champions????of the world!????

The song reached its crescendo and Robin quickly discarded the next two songs he’d intended to play. He’d go straight for the finale, end everything on a high note before Lena had the chance to upstage him or undermine his grip on the audience.

He’d have to nail this final number. The original plan had two more to build to the climax. Sod it. He could do this!

‘Thank you! Thank you, Bell and Boar! I am Marq and I have one last song for you tonight! Are you ready?’

The crowd cheered.

‘I said are you ready!?’

The crowd cheered again, louder.

‘Alright! Let’s go! Hold on to your butts, because shiz is about to get epic!’

Robin sent a thrumm of sound through the room, shocking most people into silence. There.

Into that silent sea he poured the first few notes, multiple voices in tense harmony, like a bow across violin strings.

????Is this the real life?????Is this just fantasy?????

Robin conjured faint flickers of light behind him, hints of aurora matching the delicate piano notes flitting gently around the room like sparrows before the dawn.

This was not an easy transition. They had been riding high. Most of them were drunk. It took all of Robin’s attention to keep the complex music going, while also using ethereal patterns conjured by [Visual Phantasm] to keep everyone hooked.

He could feel his mind burning behind his eyes. Robin was certain that had he not chosen the Bard profession, he would have had not a snowball’s chance in Vesuvius of pulling this off. As it was, he just grabbed the wave of magic and rode it for all he was worth.

????Any way the wind blows????doesn’t really matter to me????to me????

Robin began conjuring up ghostly scenes in the space behind him, acting out snippets of scenes that resonated with the lyrics. Haunting visuals to match haunting memories and haunting words.

The crowd was shuffling. Uncertain. They didn’t really know what to make of this strange style of music. The upbeat stuff had been fun and easy, sure, but this? What even was this?

Robin punched the next line, one they could relate to, before he lost them.

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????Mama????Just killed a man????Put a blade against his head????Drove it home and now he’s dead????

The memory of Lunkhead flashed before his eyes and threatened to shatter his concentration. Robin shoved the spectre to the back of his mind, tied it to his intent, and focused on the words. If he was going to have inconvenient memories, they could damn well serve the performance!

The performance was all!

And if the man who died in the phantom scenes behind him wore Lunkhead’s face, well, who would even notice, except for Robin? He left it as a silent memorial. The stakes right now were too high to get distracted.

Robin grabbed his messy feelings and yanked out a single strand to focus on. The one that resonated most with the lyric he was about to sing.

????I don’t want to die????I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all????

There. He’d made it through. Robin shoved the memory of Lunkhead back into a dark corner of his mind and slammed a door on it. Time to kick things into a higher gear. To take that musical bridge and cross it to whole new levels of energy and, hopefully, acclaim!

Robin poured the last of his energy reserves into his final song. If he could have channelled his spell points into this performance, he would have. As it was, he was fully determined to have nothing left in the tank after he nailed that final note.

He amped up the tempo as the drums came rolling in around him. Yes! Feel that energy! It was coruscating throughout the room now. His audience was spellbound and Robin took their attention and tied it firmly to him with the next set of lyrics, ones they were sure to respond to.

????So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?????

The audience roared at that. People were drinking, moving to the music! Robin had them!

He tweaked the next lyric to reinforce that righteous fury against Basgar and Gis. He was building on what had happened and stoking the fires of what would come next. This resistance was only getting started!

????So you think you can rob me and leave me to die?????

‘No!’ the audience roared in response. He had them now! Time to hit that last high-energy peak!

The song was a cry of defiance. Robin conjured flickers of men who looked suspiciously like Basgar and Gis being driven before a righteous mob. The words to the song still worked, but the meaning was tweaked a little. It became a clarion cry of resistance, and a promise to drive the petty tyrants from within these walls.

????Can’t do this to me baby????Just gotta get out????Just gotta get right outta here!????

Robin relaxed, fractionally. That was it. That was the high energy peak. Now he had to navigate down to the haunting end and refrain. It wouldn’t be any less tricky, but he could let himself breathe, just a touch.

He called in the energies he had stoked so high. He channelled them into a refrain, forged them into a promise. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to. The song itself barely made any. It was a construct of raw emotion. That’s what he was playing as much as anything. That and the crowd. They were his instrument, and this was his true and proper debut performance.

It felt right.

????Any way the wind blows…????

Robin let that last note slowly die off into silence. The quiet held for a long moment, then the place erupted into applause and cheers!

‘Thank you, Bell and Boar! I have been Marq! Goodnight!’

If Robin had had a mic, he would’ve dropped it. As it was, he settled for a flash of coloured smoke via [Visual Phantasm] and a quick exit off the back of the stage and into the shadows.

He received the notification he had been waiting for moments later. 

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