31. Kal: How to Deal with Blackmail

  After Kal finished school for the day, he made his way straight to the meadow just past their fields – the same one where he and Azmira spent time at all those years ago.

  The lone tree in its center stood tall.

  Kal sat beneath it, back pressed against the bark, and set his lyroca across his knees. His fingers lingered on the strings.

  His skill with the voutar had become impressive – already at a level where he could teach others. But the lyroca was always different. Though both were string instruments, they demanded separate instincts and attention. Different posture, different hand discipline, different everything. If he neglected one too long, the other would make sure he lost his edge.

  Like all things in life, skill must be constantly nurtured or else it will fade.

  He tuned the lyroca carefully by ear, adjusting the pegs one at a time until their sound rang true. Then he began to play – short melodies at first. Simple, familiar ones. Then longer, faster sequences. Songs he knew by heart and then those he hadn’t touched in months.

  When his fingers didn’t stumble, Kal exhaled with relief. He hadn’t lost it. Not yet.

  His gaze drifted toward the Evermire Swamp, shrouded in fog as always. It loomed in the distance like a dream he desperately wanted to forget but couldn’t.

  In the first years since his first visit, he’d often thought about going back. About speaking to Ukreus again. At first, it was fear that held him back – he never crossed beyond this very meadow.

  But six months ago, he’d finally found the courage. He had grown stronger. Braver. Confident in his Threads – in his control over magic. He crossed the threshold.

  And found nothing.

  The souls were still there, whispering endlessly. But Ukreus did not appear. No matter what Kal said. No matter how long he stayed. The ancient tree-creature had refused to show himself.

  Kal sighed and was about to stand up and return home. He wanted to get a little more magic practice in before dinner.

  But then a voice – unmistakable and too loud to be anyone else – broke the quiet.

  “This has to be fate!”

  Kal turned sharply.

  Coming over the rise of the hill, his colorful coat fluttering in the wind, was Cerci. The wind knocked his hat from his hat, and he had to rush back and grab it, ruining his entrance.

  He stopped a few paces away from Kal and gave a theatrical bow. “I took a walk. Composed a song about the inn’s breakfast. Spoke to some cows. And then stumbled upon you – the String-Kissed! If this isn’t destiny, then what is?!”

  Kal rolled his eyes. Somehow, he struggled to believe this was an accidental meeting. Cerci had definitely followed him here – perhaps even straight after he left the school building.

  It was weird. He was weird.

  Still…Kal was curious. Curious to learn about the outside world from someone who’d actually seen it. He didn’t often get the chance to talk to travelers who passed through Terenhill – let alone one this talkative and colorful.

  “Hello, Mr. Cerci,” Kal greeted him. “How are you finding Terenhill so far?”

  Cerci grinned. “A lot warmer than the cold I’m used to in the north. It’s refreshing!”

  “Say, Mr. Cerci,” Kal asked, changing the subject immediately, brushing a thumb on the lyroca’s strings, “how does playing for nobles usually work? Are you just invited for a one-time show or do you, like…work for them?”

  The bard’s eyes sparkled instantly. “Ahh, now that’s a proper question!” He dropped onto the grass with a grin, pulling his own lyroca off his back and setting it beside him. “Truth is – both happen.”

  He held up a finger. “First, you might be invited. A noble hears your name – maybe from another bard, or a merchant, or a traveling lord – and they send for you. You show up, perform, eat expensive food, and leave with an impressive pouch of gold and a memory for a lifetime.”

  Then he held up a second finger. “Or – you can be kept. A noble might offer you what is called a Personal Banner Contract. That’s when a bard becomes affiliated with a noble house. You carry their colors – literally wear their crest while performing – and not just when performing. You speak their praises in your songs as they are now your patrons. You get paid regularly – including housing and meals in their fancy mansions. You become part of their court – showing up for special events when needed. A noble with a beloved bard at their side? That’s social currency. That’s prestige!”

  “You basically become their ambassador,” Cerci continued. “Meaning, you’re under their full protection as well. If someone wrongs you, it’s the same as insulting the baron or lady who sponsors you. Few are foolish enough to try.”

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  “I see…” Kal rubbed his chin thoughtfully, weighing the possibilities. Having a noble patron would mean he could travel around the world and have all of his expenses covered by them. In exchange, he would just have to return to their estate once in a while to play for holidays, birthdays, or weddings. That sounded incredibly convenient for Kal’s plans.

  “And how…how do you get a noble patron, Mr. Cerci?” Kal asked. “Do you have a noble patron?”

  Cerci smiled, his grin way too proud. “So you’ve decided to become a full-time bard?”

  “I haven’t decided anything yet.” Kal replied, pressing his question. “The process?”

  Cerci ran a hand through his hair with a flourish before putting his hat back on and replying.

  “Well, the process of getting a noble patron is simple enough.” He said, rubbing his chin. “It starts with reputation. Your songs and skills have to precede you. Word-of-mouth is everything. A noble needs to hear about you before they hear from you. Once your name had been planted in their mind, an invitation usually follows.”

  Cerci cleared his throat before continuing. “If the performance goes well, and they’re impressed, they offer you a contract. And the rest is pretty self-explanatory.”

  Kal nodded, circling back. “So…do you have one?”

  Cerci paused for a moment too long, then coughed lightly. “Well, I’m currently weighing my options, of course.”

  Kal squinted. “That sounds like a no.”

  Cerci gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve had offers, okay?! I’m just far too brilliant to accept the first hand extended my way. You must treat your art with dignity because no one else would, you understand? Nobles are a possessive bunch. You agree to be their bard, and suddenly they feel like they own you. It’s unwise to settle on the first one offering you a deal.”

  Kal sighed. “So…definitely a no.”

  Cerci threw his hands in the air, sounding genuinely offended. “I am in negotiations, thank you very much!”

  He leaned toward Kal, his tone growing earnest. “But you, String-Kissed? You won’t need to look for a patron for long – I’m sure of it. With your level of skill and growing fame, the offers will come raining down any minute now.”

  Kal became thoughtful. ‘This path could actually be something to strive for…’

  Thankful for the information, but mindful that he still had to make good use of the time left today to practice magic, Kal stood up and addressed Cerci. “Thank you, Mr. Cerci. That was really helpful! See you around.”

  He turned to leave.

  But Cerci jumped to his feet and stepped in his way with an eager smile. “Wait, wait – how about you stay a little longer? Teach me one of your original songs. Just one! I’ve been dying to figure out how you came up with ‘Flowers of Eden’. That rhythm structure? Genius!”

  Kal shrugged. “You can always just mimic it by ear like all the other bards do.”

  “I could, but that won’t be the same.” Cerci countered. “Here I have the genius who created it. How could I settle for a cheap imitation?!”

  Somewhere in the past, Kal would’ve been glad to discuss music with a fellow artist, but these days he just had too many things going on.

  He offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I really have to get going. I’ve still got homework to finish.”

  Cerci waved that off like it was the most trivial thing in the world. “Homework? Pfft. You’re probably a prodigy at school too, aren’t you? Bet you could finish that in ten minutes flat. But music? This is the real important stuff, String-Kissed. You have the talent to shape the future of sound itself!”

  Kal chuckled, but remained firm. “My parents don’t really see it that way. Studies first, always. I can’t afford to slack.”

  Cerci’s expression tightened ever so slightly before shifting into a strained grin. “Come on now…After I answered all your questions? Gave you all those pointers about noble patrons? It’s only fair you give me something back, don’t you think?”

  Kal’s smile faded, feeling annoyed. “Helping someone shouldn’t come with a price tag, Mr. Cerci.”

  He turned again, meaning to walk away for real this time.

  But Cerci’s voice followed him, softer, sharper.

  “I saw you doing magic, you know.”

  Kal froze in place. “So?” He asked casually, trying to play it off.

  Cerci continued. “I also heard your father telling you that you’re not allowed to use it outside, so…I assume the rest of the village are clueless, and you want to keep it that way, right?”

  Kal turned slowly, one eyebrow rising. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Mr. Cerci, or are my ears deceiving me?”

  He’d seen his twin use tactics like that on Earth countless times during their many collection runs for loan sharks. Kal always hated it – but there was nothing he could do about it back then.

  Now, in this new life of his, he wasn’t about to stand for it.

  Especially not when the blackmail was aimed at him.

  “Oh, c’mon, String-Kissed,” Cerci said with a chuckle, waving it off. “Don’t make it sound like I’m some nasty criminal. I just want you to teach me a song. I don’t intend to use this information against you…if you cooperate.”

  “First of all, It’s Kalvin for you.” Kal corrected him, voice cool. “And secondly, you’re underestimating me.”

  “Oh, I’m not scared.” Cerci chuckled, revealing a metallic bracelet which Kal easily recognized as taelium. “We bards have to carry stuff like this to stay safe from possible mage bandits on the road.”

  Kal chuckled back, his eyes falling on the instrument next to the bard. “I don’t have to use it on you, Mr. Cerci.”

  Then, Kal raised a hand, activating his Gravity Magic Cognition Thread. The bard’s lyroca jolted upward from the ground in one sharp yank. Gravity magic’s first level was one of the easiest for Kal to control, though it only worked on relatively small objects...Like a lyroca.

  “Hey!” Cerci yelped, jumping up after it.

  Kal laughed, switching Threads mid-motion. With a pulse of his Air Magic Cognition Thread, he made the lyroca hover just out Cerci’s reach. Air was everywhere – so this magic’s first level was as easy as much as it was effective.

  Cerci jumped again, arms flailing as his feathered hat flew off his head.

  “Maybe I should crush it against the tree, Mr. Cerci?” Kal said, grinning playfully.

  “Don’t you dare! That was a gift from Lord Reginald of the northern Valcrest Ranges!”

  Seeing that groveling wasn’t working, Cerci switched tactics. He charged at Kal instead.

  “I’m dropping it.” Kal said simply.

  Cerci skidded to a halt and spun toward the falling lyroca, diving to catch it – only for Kal to lift it again with a flick of his fingers.

  Laughing, Kal carefully guided the instrument to the tree’s tall branch, hanging it by its strap.

  Cerci scrambled toward the tree and began trying to climb it with a desperation that bordered on tragic.

  Kal almost felt bad watching him struggle like that. Almost.

  Kal, arms crossed and fully amused, spoke. “I don’t like people threatening me, Mr. Cerci.” He shook his head. “But if you think telling anyone in the village I’m a mage will get you what you want, I encourage you to try it.”

  His eyes narrowed on the bard, smile fading.

  “I have a feeling you’ll end up even more disappointed than you are now.”