The more San talked, the more Arthur was finding the sound of his voice pleasant. So much so, that he stayed quiet to let Galahad ask all the interesting questions.

  They learned that San was a traveling bard who had hoped to play at the Grand Tournament Bard Showdown but was immediately eliminated before he could even see the stage because some knight/prince had jousted him, and he had taken too long to recover, missing the registrations.

  "It's okay. I wouldn't have met you guys otherwise." San cheerfully added on, which had Galahad beaming with a smile.

  The man was so pure, it was refreshing.

  All was pleasant until they took a turn into a darker and dank lane. It gave Galahad the shivers the more they walked past commoners in rags and with muddy faces. The streets were more like plowed mud pits that had the odd shack or two. Most were held together with a handful of rope. The stench of human waste, amongst rot and god-knows-what, was making Galahad slightly queasy.

  Arthur frowned. It was the first time seeing this pitiful state of living so close to his home. Why hadn't he seen it before? He was sure he had explored every part of the palace town. Then again, that was only in the upper town. He was never allowed to venture into Chancealot's outskirts until now.

  "Here's where my friend lives." San cordially advised and with an energy that contradicted the mood of the area.

  Arthur glanced up to see a crudely painted sign on wood. "Bastard Child's Theater."

  He shook his head and followed the others in.

  "Right, you sad sacks! I want this floor polished that it's shining in my face!" A butch man on a stage yelled at a pair of scrawny boys in tunics, who nodded and hurriedly dropped to their hands and knees and went about mopping a stage floor around him with rags.

  Arthur frowned at the sudden switch of attitude the man gave San when he jumped off the stage to greet him. The man's large, too friendly, hands were generous with pats and touches he gave to the San's slung arm and waist. He didn't know why, but he didn't like seeing San going through this kind of exchange. He held back his thoughts. San wanted to help them, so he wasn't inclined to be boorish about it.

  "San, my shining star! I was about to get the boys and hunt down the prick who hurt you."

  San reassured the man that he was fine and introduced him to Arthur and Galahad. Arthur prayed that he wouldn't let the cat out of the bag and tell the guy how they had met.

  Meaty Mike glared down on the two lords before him. Pretty boys that probably didn't know how to wipe their own asses. Unlike San, who was the only effeminate man he respected. He hoped San hadn't tricked himself into becoming their plaything.

  Well, that was just fine, because the lords looked to be easy pickings for sure. It was all the sweeter if he got revenge for San at the same time.

  Arthur stared in Meaty Mike's beefy frame in a decent enough dark tunic, pants, and boots. His scruffy dark, short hair, and light beard made him appear both formidable and, he supposed, he was approachable to the common rabble.

  "Stop eye-balling me, lad, unless you want to see my fists." Meaty Mike threatened Arthur.

  "I'm sure your fists are too slow to reach my line of sight," Arthur coolly answered back with a glare to match the one coming out of Mike's steely gray eyes.

  San saw the rising tension and stepped in between them. "We're all friends here, right?"

  Both Meaty Mike and Arthur answered with a firm no. San brushed that aside and got straight to the point.

  Meaty Mike laughed. "So the noble lords can't get a horse."

  Arthur and Galahad flashed each other odd looks.

  "Pfft. I can get a horse, it's just San was being nice to offer and I don't want to be impolite to the man," Arthur answered back.

  Meaty Mike's laughter transitioned into a scheming grin. "Seeing how you're being sweet on my good friend. How about we make a bet?"

  Galahad groaned and slapped his forehead. Things weren't starting well with their quest.

  "Oh?" Arthur folded his arms.

  "If you can hold a tune as good as San, I'll give you a horse." Meaty Mike placed his hands on his hips.

  "And if I can't?"

  "You give me all your gold."

  Arthur thought that was a fair deal since money wasn't an issue. "Fine."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  San didn't think anything untoward of the bet, as he was happy to have the chance to show his skills to his new friends.

  The men watched San walk up on stage, test his vocals with a few sounds, then start to sing.

  Arthur was amazed at San's smooth notes and tones. His and Galahad's eyes widen with awe as they felt their minds being caught within a whirlwind of sound.

  San's vocals were moving Arthur's senses through a myriad of emotions he had never experienced before; he felt his heart yearning and body wanting to be part of the man's song. So much so, that he didn't even realize the man had stopped singing and lamented on the fact that he had. The weird feeling in his heart flared up again and had to be squashed with some fist thumps to his chest.

  "Here's your gold." Arthur huffed as he handed over two heavy coin pouches to Meaty Mike, who checked the goods and bellowed with laughter at such an easy win.

  "But if you're thinking of sending in your boys from next door, two doors down and over there to fight us." Arthur coolly pointed to the door near the far end, where a man was waiting in the shadows. "Then let's bet again on my fight with your men. I guarantee you will lose everything you bet."

  Meaty Mike guffawed and shook his head. The lords weren't pansies after all. "Nah. Let me get you the horse. Seeing that you paid twenty times what she's worth."

  Galahad sighed as he followed the others out of the theater through a back way, and down another mud pit of a street to the lower town stables at the end.

  The nag was on the skinny side and with gap teeth, which had sharp edges. Galahad saw why when she snapped for his head as soon as they got close. Meaty Mike laughed and casually mentioned that she was partially senile and always cranky.

  "Twenty times?" Galahad hissed at Arthur.

  The old gray nag had a worse temperament than Chifton.

  As they were about to be more acquainted with the horse, a group of armed bandits leaped off rooftops to surround them. Meaty Mike assured them that they didn't belong to his gang.

  The bandits were dressed in soft and hard leather armor with scarfs, masks, and hoods to cover their faces. They wore the same colors of dark red and bottle-green. It was a fact that made Arthur frown. This group was too well-dressed and fashioned to be piece-together misfit criminals.

  "I got a whiff of the easy pickings. Thanks, Mike, for letting me steal your marks again." One of the bandits sniggered, as he drew his sword.

  Meaty Mike drew his sword. Galahad slipped into the hidden parts of the stables and drew his bow.

  "San. Go over there and keep your head down." Arthur pointed to a gap between a stack of hay bales. It had good cover for the man to stay safe in the fight.

  San was about to protest but could tell it meant a lot to Arthur to stay out of the way, so he did as instructed. Besides, he could still only use one arm, and he really was curious to see if Arthur was the dreamy, skillful, fighter that all the women at the castle had romanticized him to be.

  The bandits charged for the attack and surrounded Arthur and Meaty Mike as they brandished their swords with killing blows and optimal strikes.

  Arthur was showing no signs of slowing down or being suppressed. Rather, the more men fought him, the faster and deadlier he became.

  San's eyes shone with sparkles, as he watched Arthur move his sword with the skill to sweep two men backward. If one of the bandits attempted to attack from his blindside, Galahad fired an arrow to knock him out with the one shot.

  Arthur, Meaty Mike, and Galahad fought and moved with such swift grace or heavy blows that the bandits didn't stand a chance. Those remaining had quickly and shamelessly retreated.

  Arthur made a wolf whistle. A short while later, a raven landed on his shoulder. He pulled out a small piece of rolled paper from his pocket and sent the bird on its way.

  "The city guards will deal with the rest," he carefully whispered to Galahad when the man came up next to him.

  Meaty Mike eyed the two nobles carefully, but relaxed his scrutiny when San had re-emerged to join them.

  "Good. You're safe."

  "Well, we'll take our leave now," Arthur said, and tentatively grabbed the nag's reins. Careful to avoid its snaps for his hand.

  Meaty Mike nodded and patted San's shoulder in passing. "He's not half bad for a stuck-up."

  San, Arthur, and Galahad calmly walked out of the lower town and the main town gates.