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  Eran rubbed his sleepy eyes, waking up from his brief nap in the worn-out horse carriage. Looking around, he saw a crossroads stretching out in front of him.

  "We’re here, young man!" shouted the old man, focusing on the reins to steady his horse. The carriage came to a halt, though it could barely be called a carriage judging by its worn-out appearance.

  "Get down; this is as far as I can take you," said the old man.

  Eran stepped down from the dilapidated carriage, inhaling the chilly night air. He felt a bit stiff after sleeping in the cramped space, but his mind was now fully alert.

  Glancing around, he realized he was at a relatively quiet crossroads. In the distance, he could see a beautiful rural landscape, marked by green hills bathed in the morning sunlight.

  "So, we’ve reached the destination, huh?" Eran said to the carriage driver.

  The driver nodded, "Yes, this is the place you asked for. There's no road beyond here."

  Eran thanked the driver, then took out a few coins from his pocket to pay for the service. Though the carriage was old and shabby, he was grateful it had brought him safely to his destination.

  The driver refused the money Eran offered. "Keep it; I'm in a hurry, so consider yourself lucky."

  Without waiting any longer, the old carriage resumed its journey, leaving him alone.

  He began walking, and soon his eyes caught sight of a village not far from there. Eran put on his hood and black cloak. He carried little weight, only a small pouch strapped to his waist.

  He chose the side of the road to avoid puddles and muddy ground. The weather was unfriendly, and the night grew darker because of it; he despised the rain. As he entered the village, he saw a mossy, old sign that read "Alku." This was a well-known village, famed far and wide as one of the heavens for mercenaries seeking adventure—and coin.

  The village was lively, with people barely noticing the rain that was falling. Alku was the densest village in the Beryllan kingdom, thanks to its proximity to the border, making it a frequent stopover for travelers and a hub for merchants’ transactions.

  As Eran ventured deeper into the village, the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and the aroma of various foods filled his senses.

  Eran glanced at every wall adorned with yellow banners bearing a two-coin emblem, unmistakably marking Alku as part of the Kingdom of Beryllan, ruled by the Heirs of Golden. This clan was known for producing lethal hunters and archers, and they were also the largest financial supporters of the Empire, making their heirs the wealthiest on the continent of Anthares.

  Eran, seeking a brief reprieve from the weight of his mission, wandered through the bustling streets of Alku to a tavern nestled among the crowded shops. The air was thick with the scent of delicious food and the cheerful laughter of patrons.

  He found himself standing before an old building, slightly run-down, with the name "Freya Tavern" carved above its door, and he stepped inside.

  Settling at a corner table, Eran wanted to order a mug of ale and a slice of apple pie, craving the comfort they might bring.

  However, reality and his imagination didn’t quite align; the place was packed and noisy. Taking in his surroundings, he sighed in frustration; he hated being in such a crowd. Not long after, a waitress approached him.

  "What do you want to eat, hooded boy?" asked the older waitress in a weary tone.

  "Give me a slice of pie and a mug of ale."

  Then the waitress left. Eran’s gaze wandered, uninterested in the cheerful conversations and laughter filling the tavern. He was content in his solitude, his mind completely void of any desire to engage with strangers.

  Yet amid the revelry, a Bard caught Eran’s attention. He was playing a lute in his hands, singing and dancing joyfully atop a long table. People gathered around him, drawn into the performance. His voice wove a melody that filled the entire tavern, spinning tales of bravery and lost love with an emotional tone that captivated the crowd.

  "Pie and ale," said the old waitress as she placed them in front of Eran before leaving again after receiving payment. Eran preferred to sip the ale; this strong drink was perfect for the cold weather.

  "Nothing beats pie after a swig of ale."

  The sweet, tender apple filling blended with the crispy, savory crust in his mouth. He enjoyed the dish with a sense of satisfaction, as if all the worries haunting him had instantly vanished.

  The tavern grew busier, and Eran felt more comfortable sitting in his corner table, which provided a bit of privacy.

  As the last note echoed through the tavern, the Bard who had been the center of attention walked toward Eran’s table, intentionally seeking him out. Eran's cold gaze met the Bard’s warm smile—a momentary clash of contrasts.

  "Rumor has it the ale in this village is the best; they make it by fermenting ripe berries with a dash of salt. The alcohol content is high, but it goes down smooth."

  Eran looked at the source of the voice in front of him; the Bard who had been singing earlier was now seated at his table. Eran chose to stay silent, focusing on his pie.

  The Bard's usual ramblings would usually succeed with regular folks, but this time, he failed to capture Eran's attention. Eran’s cold demeanor remained unchanged, unaffected by the Bard's attempts to engage him in conversation.

  The Bard continued.

  "And that pie is made from overripe red apples; instead of discarding them, they prefer to process and sell them."

  "What do you want, Bard? I have little patience for stories and idle chatter," Eran cut in, annoyed.

  "Halbarad," the Bard introduced himself bluntly, then continued, "This is the first time I’ve seen you here, mysterious hooded one. Where are you headed?"

  "If you look at my appearance, you should be able to guess; even a child would know my purpose."

  "Ah, I thought so. News travels fast—faster than I expected. Even the Band of the Sun arrived in this village three days ago," Eran was surprised by Halbarad’s revelation.

  "No wonder they’re at the top," Eran replied, trying to remain calm.

  The Band of the Sun was a group of mercenaries at the pinnacle of their trade; any mission they took on was completed flawlessly. No one doubted their strength.

  "So, where are your companions?" Halbarad asked, sipping his ale.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "I stand alone, not part of any group," Eran paused for a moment before continuing, "Standing alone isn’t bad. I’m more comfortable with silence and solitude. I don’t need many people around to feel at ease."

  "Don’t you want a travel companion?" teased the Bard.

  "That's easier said than done. I'm not particularly interested in socializing with strangers who ultimately come and go," Eran explained.

  "Lone wolf—quite fitting for your appearance," Halbarad remarked with a warm, confident smile.

  All this time, Halbarad's conversation with Eran had seemed like empty chatter. It became clear that Halbarad had deliberately sought out Eran.

  Halbarad tried to find a more suitable topic of conversation. "Alright, I apologize if I was being too pushy. How about your adventures so far? Is there an interesting story you'd like to share?"

  Eran raised an eyebrow. "Adventure is a part of my life. I've visited many places and met various people. But it's not something I wish to show off or talk about."

  "You're right; adventure is a very personal experience," Halbarad said understandingly. Unfazed, the bard continued trying to find a topic.

  "So, why are you so interested in pie and ale?" Halbarad asked again.

  Eran narrowed his eyes. "Pie and ale are simple pleasures in life. They bring a kind of joy and sweet memories."

  "A wise answer. I'll use that for the lyrics of my next song. Want to hear it? You'll be the first."

  Eran was beginning to grow irritated with the bard in front of him.

  "Alright, Halbarad the Bard, I think I'll be leaving soon. Thanks for the brief chat. I hope we don’t meet again," Eran said, lifting himself from his seat.

  "How did you survive that massacre?"

  Eran froze at Halbarad's question. He looked sharply at the bard's face, a very intense stare.

  Understanding the look, Halbarad gestured for Eran to follow him. There was something in Halbarad's eyes that resonated with Eran's pain.

  "Follow me. You can trust me—even if I tried to attack you, I’d be killed before I could move."

  Then Halbarad stepped forward. Eran remained still, slightly wary of the bard.

  "Hurry up!" Halbarad shouted, snapping Eran out of his thoughts. Reluctantly, Eran moved from his spot, compelled to hear more, and followed him.

  Eran followed Halbarad out of the tavern. They walked through the bustling crowds on the street, with Halbarad leading them down winding paths in Alku Village.

  Many questions suddenly filled his mind. The path grew narrower, and he noticed a few people eyeing them sharply. Soon, Halbarad stopped at a building at the end of an alley. They entered, and Eran glanced at the sign reading "Herald Inn" outside.

  An inn in a narrow alley like a place for outcasts, hidden even from the world’s eyes. At a glance, the building looked on the verge of collapse, with many cracked walls and floors. Eran had to step carefully on the stairs as the wood felt fragile.

  They stopped in front of a room on the second floor.

  "Come in," invited Halbarad. Once inside, Halbarad locked the door and hung his lute on a hook near the window.

  "Still suspicious of me?" Halbarad asked as he saw Eran still standing by the door.

  "It's natural for me to be cautious of strangers."

  "Then why did you follow me all the way here?"

  "You looked weak," Eran replied mockingly.

  "Damn it, whatever. Anyway, isn’t a man supposed to be a bit messy?" said Halbarad. Eran chose to sit by the window.

  In that simple room, Eran watched the man's every move closely as he tidied up the space. He still didn’t fully trust this bard named Halbarad.

  Noticing Eran's suspicion, Halbarad paused and said, "You know, sometimes life brings unexpected changes. I came to Alku out of curiosity, to explore, and to escape the chains of the past."

  "Escape from what?" asked Eran.

  Halbarad fell silent for a moment, as if searching for the right answer. "Demons of the past, regrets, and bitter memories. But, you know, Alku has become a sanctuary for me."

  "Alright, bard, you’d better stop wasting my time. I’ll ask just one more time. Who are you?" Eran asked directly, with a hint of threat.

  "Alright, alright, I'm Halbarad from the south, as you know, I'm a bard."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Oh, come on, that massacre is practically common knowledge, isn’t it? It's been told in countless books and poems."

  "That's not what I meant. How do you know I’m a Sinner?" Eran asked, his tone menacing.

  "Must I really explain?" Halbarad asked, exasperated, while Eran stared at him with a sharp gaze.

  Halbarad sighed, kneeling before Eran. "Halbarad de Sinners salutes the direct descendant of Olaf de Sinners," he said.

  Eran was taken aback by the bard’s statement. In the dim room, Halbarad's voice was serious as he revealed his true identity.

  "You're a Sinner?" Eran asked in disbelief.

  "Indeed," Halbarad replied, extending his hand with a silver pendant necklace—a mark of the Sinners.

  "A silver pendant," Eran murmured, comparing it to his own. It was identical, stirring complex emotions within him.

  Eran fell silent, processing the revelation. His heart raced, his mind in turmoil as mixed emotions and questions flooded his thoughts. The truth Halbarad had just unveiled left him shaken.

  "Do you still doubt me?" Halbarad asked.

  "I don’t doubt you…but…” Eran paused, making Halbarad tense.

  He wondered if Halbarad might be a skilled conman who had stolen or randomly found the necklace. But if that were the case, he shouldn’t know its details.

  After reasoning with himself, Eran continued his unfinished sentence.

  "I just don’t like how you talk so much."

  "That's the way a Sinner should speak—rough and uncivilized."

  Eran smiled at Halbarad’s words. A small part of him was glad that fate had left another rogue Sinner alive. He felt a bit less alone.

  "Our meeting is certainly strange," Eran remarked.

  "Forget that. Give me a hug, friend."

  They embraced.

  "I’ve been waiting for you a long time. I rented this inn just to wait for you, my friend," said Halbarad.

  "So you knew I’d come."

  "Of course."

  "What else do you know about me?"

  "Hmm…not much, just your work as a mercenary and, of course, your famous underground alias, Black Shadow," Halbarad explained.

  "So, are you a royal spy?" Eran asked, suspicious. Halbarad laughed at the question.

  "Of course not! I’m just a bard, my friend. And you know the southern lands are known as the haven for spies and free spirits. Many artists gather there, and I ended up there during my escape. Coincidentally, I aspired to be a poet, and I was trained there."

  Eran narrowed his eyes at Halbarad’s answer as the man sighed and continued his explanation.

  "What you need to know is that we bards are scattered across the continent of Anthares. We’ve formed the Canary Whistle, an extensive information network—a kind of alliance among us informants. I’m sure you understand now."

  "So, you’re no ordinary bard," Eran praised, slightly impressed.

  Halbarad looked annoyed by Eran’s praise. "Stop insulting me."

  "Didn’t you hear me? I was complimenting you."

  "Look in the mirror, see how irritating your face is," Eran laughed at Halbarad’s retort.

  As the night grew darker, Eran found himself sharing pieces of his tragic story with Halbarad, trusting the bard’s ability to understand the depths of his pain. Halbarad listened intently, his eyes reflecting sadness.

  But as the night wore on, Eran’s uncertainty returned. He still didn’t know if he could fully trust this bard. He wasn’t sure what lay behind Halbarad’s smile, what he was hiding, or whether their meeting was fate or mere coincidence.

  Eran decided to trust his instincts. Perhaps fate had indeed brought them together in Alku village, and if so, he intended to follow wherever it might lead.

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