Agreth’s took a slow controlled breath, steadying his nerves.

  He couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at them being so unsettled. He had spent years performing for the public eye. Of pushing through any anxiety or hesitation for the sake of laughter and celebration. He thought he had earned their temperance.

  But he was actually nervous.

  He looked up to read over the intricately carved tavern sign that hung above him, triple checking his location. The Copper Turtle.

  Pampered lithe fingers of an elven bard move to his broad brimmed hat, adjusting it as though the familiar sensation could bring him a sense of comfort. With practiced ease he slides into a broad charming grin.

  Prepared, straightened out, he continues his steps towards the door.

  The closer he drew to the tavern, the closer the cooling night air came alive with music and boisterous chatter. His violin and bow strapped to his back tapping with each step as if to provide encouragement. Tonight Agreth had come to the familiar bar not to trade songs for silver; but to trade words for truth.

  As soon as he shouldered into the bar, the barkeep glanced only a moment, and recognizing the familiar bard simply gives him a cordial wave, and a vague gesture towards where Agreth’s intended destination.

  With smooth grace, Agreth greeted the various patrons, offering small words of hello, or quick teasing quips for the more familiar faces, easing into the familiarity of theatrics.

  Agreth was striking. Purposefully so. Tall enough to hold a mystique, but not so tall as to intimidate. He donned intricate and flashy whites, silken blues and decorative filigree of silvers. Bordering on over the top, it was a tell tale sign of a bardic profession.

  His deep blue eyes were welcoming, his expression often filled with mischief and play. His mid length blue-black hair, falling about from his hat in chaos about his features.

  While he made his way through the crowd, the lingering anxiety caused him to subtly pull, pat and straighten out his clothes, making sure they were in presentable order for his meeting.

  It did not take much looking to spot the man he was set to meet.

  The days were getting closer to Highharvestide and the sense of indulgence and celebration was already in the minds of the citizen’s of Baldur’s Gate. The tavern was packed with people, each table packed with boisterous companions. That was all tables except one.

  There was a table near the back where a solitary man sat, and all other chairs around him stayed bare. It was not that the man had a bad reputation, or otherwise was unliked. In fact somewhat the opposite. He had a grandiose reputation, one that led to a sense of reverence and unapproachability.

  It struck Agreth as distinctly sad, echoing something in his own heart.

  As he closed the distance between them, Agreth’s eyes danced over the man’s features. Dark brown hair, brushed back but still falling about as though hardly tamed. He had distinct facial features, slightly softened with a well kept if slightly scruffy beard. It was balanced by a strong forehead and bold nose, giving an overall dignified and handsome effect.

  The human man wore basic, practical, comfortable if fine quality brown and white robes. This was similar to when he had first caught Agreth’s attention at the gala some weeks back. He had spoken to the famed Gale of Waterdeep then. It was a brief discussion, but Agreth was sure to arrange this interview on a more casual footing. Gale had agreed.

  As Agreth’s steps came close enough that their intent of direction became obvious, Gale’s stormy grey eyes drew up to meet him. Quick recognition registered in them, then pleased excitement. He stood gesturing to the seat across from him.

  “Ah, Agreth. A pleasure to re-make your acquaintance.”

  Agreth found himself surprised that he so readily remembered his name.

  “I’m pleased you remember who I am, I was worried I had gotten lost in the din of other pressing social obligations.” he offers in return graciously taking the seat as they both settle in.

  “Perish the thought” he interjects with a jovial tone.

  “I’m curious to learn what a bard of your standing in the city might be interested in conversing about. Are we to delve into the arcane, or perhaps, you seek to trade tales and songs of old?”

  A low chuckle escapes Agreth despite himself, Gale’s enthusiasm contagious.

  “Well, let’s get to the point then.” Agreth reassures with clear amusement. “I sought you out Gale of Waterdeep, as I have often heard rumour of your exploits, and figured if anyone in Baldur's Gate could provide me inspiration for a new song, it’d be you.”

  Gale leans forward in his seat giving an appreciative nod, clearly enjoying the flattery and opportunity to touch on his life.

  "Ah, inspiration is a curious thing.” he muses out loud, immediately getting lost in his own thoughts. “Akin to the weave itself. Elusive, yet omnipresent.”

  He refocuses on Agreth, as if recalling this were not a one sided conversation.

  “Better help me to inspire you then. Tell me, what story would captivate you? Love, perhaps, or the thrill of adventure?” His eyes move over the bard as though trying to read him “Or maybe something darker, a tale of betrayal and redemption?"

  His trailing eyes pause on Agreth’s broad hat, an amused smile touching his lips.

  “Though I feel it may have to be quite the tale to captivate someone who already exudes such an air of eccentric uniqueness.”

  Agreths brows raise at the unexpected compliment.

  "What flattery. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were the Bard with the silvery tongue" Agreth gives him a playful appreciative wink, but continues.

  "Give me something that ignites passion in you, yourself. The more passionate the source of my tales the more sweet the melody"

  "Passion,” Gale considers out loud. “my muse and my nemesis.” he says, still in an air of talking to himself.

  There’s a moment's pause, as though Gale were weighting the depth he was willing to share.

  “There is a tale that comes to mind, not often shared.” he begins with an air of caution “My encounter with Mystra’s weave itself. A moment that kindled an unquenchable flame within me. To harness such power, yet to bear the burden of its potential demise."

  Gale leans forward, his voice dropping to an intense whisper. "Picture it, Agreth: the very essence of magic, a tapestry so vast and intricate that its beauty could move even the stoic heart of a stone golem. Therein lies a symphony; magic’s might and its perilous dance with those who dare to wield it."

  Instinctually drawn in once more by Gale’s own effervescence, Agreth leans in in turn, a twinkle of anticipation touching his eyes.

  “I think I have heard whispers of it... but to hear it from the horse's mouth-" he pauses looking a bit abashed "to hear it from its source" he corrects.

  With a knowing smile, Gale nods, acknowledging the correction with a wave of his hand, dismissing any need for formality between them.

  "Indeed, to wield magic is to dance with destiny itself.”

  He leans back in his chair, as though getting comfortable for a long journey.

  “During my travels, I stumbled upon an ancient artifact, a Netherese Arcanist's bauble that was imbued with a spell of such immense power it could alter the very fabric of reality.”

  His tone gradually became more intense as he reflected.

  “The thrill of discovering such an artifact, the rush of arcane energy coursing through my veins…it was intoxicating."

  Gale pauses, his eyes growing momentarily distant, as though savoring reliving the emotions.

  "But with great power, as you might expect, comes great peril.” he continues his tone taking on an air of wistful loss.

  “The artifact, it... demanded a price. A piece of my very essence, my soul, to stave off a catastrophe of my own inadvertent making.” he concludes, his hand going to his chest reflexively.

  After another beat, Gale’s eyes refocus on Agreth, engaged with his interview companion once more.

  “The passion you seek for your song? It lies in the heartrending choice between power and the steep price one must pay to wield it responsibly. A melody of monumental might laced with the somber tones of sacrifice."

  Agreth sits back some in his chair, regarding Gale, taking in his features as though trying to read the consequences of his story upon his body.

  "I suspect me and you may have had very different relationships with the Weave" he adds perhaps a bit incongruently in his own reflections.

  Gale pauses a moment, almost seeming to be taken aback at the idea of Agreth having a relationship with the Weave at all, forgetting for a moment that more than just wizards could touch it at all.

  He recovers quickly, a new excitement at the prospect of being able to talk about magic in more minute details driving him anew.

  "Indeed, our paths through the Weave likely diverge as much as they intertwine. I've always seen it as a partner in a perilous dance. One misstep, and the consequences can ripple through the very essence of being. My relationship with it is fraught with both reverence and dread."

  Easing back in his seat Gale continues, pontificating a familiar passtime for him.

  "The Weave is a tapestry that offers boundless opportunities to those who can touch its threads without succumbing to their seduction. Each spell cast, a negotiation; each incantation, a promise.”

  He pauses, considering.

  “Tell me, Agreth, how does the Weave speak to you? As a bard, your magic flows through music and charm. Does it not demand its own kind of price?"

  His grey eyes hold Agreth’s, his curiosity piqued, eager to understand how another artist interprets the profound and often precarious connection with the arcane.

  "I’d be happy to tell you Gale." Agreth begins in response, but pauses giving him a cheeky smile.

  "Another time. This time is to hear of your story" Agreth gestures to him with an open palm indicating that the floor is his.

  "Tell me your story of seeking power and the sacrifice needed to gain it"

  A soft chuckle escapes Gale at Agreth’s deft redirection, and he nods in acknowledgement of the conversational baton that has been passed back to him.

  "Very well, let's delve deeper then. My tale is one of ambition that perhaps fell into folly through hubris.

  My fascination with magic began early in my days at Waterdeep, driven by a voracious appetite to understand the underlying mechanisms of the universe. This quest led me to the discovery of an artifact I mentioned, one that promised to elevate my capabilities beyond the ordinary constraints of mortal mages.

  I sought to harness this power, to bend it towards not just understanding but mastering the manipulation of reality. However, every spell cast from the artifact drew not from the ambient magical energies, but directly from my life force, my very soul."

  He pauses, a somber shadow crossing his features.

  "The sacrifice required became clear only too late. With each use, the weave demanded more, and I teetered ever closer to a precipice of oblivion. I was forced to make a choice: continue on this path and risk total annihilation, or withdraw and preserve the essence of who I am, albeit diminished."

  His gaze drifts off momentarily as if seeing through the walls of the tavern to some distant place or time.

  "I chose preservation, but the allure of what could have been haunts me still. I was forced to recognize that some prices are too high to pay, even for immeasurable power."

  Agreth pauses a moment, hesitating, taking in the depth of what the wizard had said and the lesson behind it. At length he carefully responds.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "I recognize you've been through something great, and have come out the other side with wisdom as your reward. What of the artifact though. What was it? Where is it now?" he asks, pressing just a little further.

  Gale’s expression turns pained and hesitant, but he continues graciously not denying the bard’s request.

  "After much deliberation I made the difficult decision to relinquish it, fearing its potential for devastation in the wrong hands,” He pauses “or even in my own.” he says with a bleakness.

  “I entrusted it to the safekeeping of the Order of the Blue Cloak.” He catches that the name did elicits no response from Agreth.

  “A group of wizards dedicated to the preservation and protection of magical artifacts deemed too dangerous for public exposure.” He clarifies and continues.

  “It now lies hidden, ensconced within a vault sealed by wards potent enough to deter even the most ambitious or foolhardy."

  Gale leans closer once more, a rampant yearning touching his voice.

  "The artifact is locked away, yet not forgotten. Part of me yearns to study its secrets further, to unlock the mysteries it holds.”

  He sighs, catching himself, his body easing.

  “But another part recognizes the wisdom in letting some doors remain closed."

  He sits back, his gaze fixed on Agreth, reflecting a mix of resignation and resolve.

  "And so, it remains a chapter of my past, closed yet indelibly written into the story of my life. A potent reminder of the razor's edge that we who dabble in the arcane walk upon."

  "And your soul?" Agreth prompts, the world around him falling away as he becomes enthralled by the tale. "It remains intact I assume?"

  The corners of Gale’s mouth twitch with a wry smile, acknowledging the personal nature of Agreth’s inquiry, but once more not denying him.

  "Largely, yes, my soul remains intact, though not without its scars. They serve as constant reminders. Magic, especially of such a potent and demanding nature, doesn't merely use the caster, it changes them."

  A firmness takes Gale’s tone for the first time.

  "But make no mistake, Agreth, while I have lost parts of myself along the way, what remains is fortified by experience and tempered by the hard-earned wisdom of survival.

  The weave and I, we have reached an understanding, one might say. It's a partnership forged through trial and sacrifice, one that I navigate with cautious respect."

  Agreth nods in response, considering his every word.

  "So you've lost something then. Not only the artifact but the part of yourself that it took? Is there no way to get it back?" Agreth asks, perhaps forgetting that some questions may be too personal.

  Agreth’s question is not met with discomfort, or annoyance, but draws a deeper, more reflective sigh from Gale.

  "Magic, especially of such an ancient and arcane nature, often deals in permanent exchanges. To attempt to reclaim that which has been taken might upset this delicate equilibrium, potentially unleashing consequences far greater than the initial sacrifice."

  His expression turns earnest once more. "However, not all is lost in the literal sense. While those parts of my soul may never be returned in their original form, I believe in the potential for growth and renewal. Just as a tree may lose a branch only to grow several more, so too can we find new strengths, perhaps different, but no less valuable.

  Gale offers a gentle smile, aimed at both comforting and conveying a sense of hope. "So, while I may not recover what was lost in the way one might hope, I grow in other ways, learning and adapting, which in many ways, is a form of recovery itself."

  "And yet I still see the sadness in your eyes " Agreth mutters out loud, not realizing the thought slipped out. The blue hues of his eyes locking onto Gale’s gray.

  The observation, though softly spoken, resonates deeply with Gale. For a moment, his usual composure falters, revealing a glimmer of the melancholy Agreth perceived.

  "You have a keen eye.” he acknowledges, his voice carrying a hint of rueful admiration.

  "The path of a mage is often solitary, fraught with decisions and sacrifices that weigh heavily upon the soul. Each choice, each loss, shapes us, molds us into beings of depth and complexity. The sadness you see is but one facet of a gem shaped by countless pressures and cuts."

  He offers a small, contemplative smile. "It is a melancholy not to be feared, but to be acknowledged as the cost of a life fully lived. And in that acknowledgement, there is a sort of bitter beauty, is there not?"

  Agreth could do nothing but nod, Gale’s story slowly forming a melody in the back of his mind "You echo my very thoughts.” he says with a dreamy air.

  “Pleasant melancholy... like that of beautiful rain."

  "Exactly!" Gale responds, his voice warming with the poetic truth of Agreth’s words.

  "A beautiful rain that nourishes even as it weeps. It's the kind of melancholy that enriches the soul, lending depth to the songs sung and the tales told."

  Gale’s smile broadens, feeling the creative spark igniting between them.

  "And from such rains, from such depths, the most profound arts are born. Agreth, your song will no doubt capture this essence, weaving the bittersweet with the beautiful, reflecting the complexity of life itself."

  Pausing, Gale glances around the dimly lit tavern, where stories and songs mingle with the clink of glasses and the low hum of conversation.

  "May your music find the ears of those who need it most, as a balm and a beacon. And may it remind them, as it does us, that even in sorrow, there is beauty to be found and shared."

  Agreth gets pulled back from his own pensive thoughts for a moment. His focus sharpened once more and a playful grin sliding broadly across his lips

  "Are you sure you're not really a Bard pretending to be a Wizard?"

  The corners of Gale’s mouth curl up in amusement at the playful accusation.

  "Perhaps there is a bardic spirit within me yet, lurking beneath the layers of arcane lore and spellcraft. It seems you've uncovered my secret penchant for the poetic, a companion to my magical pursuits."

  He chuckles lightly, the sound rich with genuine mirth.

  "But let us say that I am a wizard with a bard's heart, or perhaps a bard with a wizard's mind. Either way, it is a fortunate blend that allows me to appreciate the resonance of your words and artistry."

  He raises his hand slightly, gesturing to the air as if weaving a spell of words.

  "And so, in this shared space of magic and music, let us continue to inspire and be inspired. For in the end, whether through song or spell, we seek to touch the same truths."

  "Ever the optimist." Agreth responds with laughter in his voice.

  Agreth moves to stand and then pauses looking back at Gale catching his eyes once more

  "On the surface." he adds with an air of teasing mirth.

  Gale, catching his gaze with a gleam of amusement in his own eyes, rises to meet the challenge of Agreth’s words.

  "Ah, but of course. Beneath the surface? There might just be a well of untapped mysteries and enduring hope that even the deepest of losses cannot drain."

  Gale offers a respectful nod.

  "It's been a pleasure, indeed a privilege, to share this exchange with you. May your journeys be as rich with verse as they are with adventure, and may the tales you weave inspire as much as they entertain."

  Feeling the end of their interaction drawing near, Agreth lets out a startled "oh.. uh" and pauses taken aback at the sudden words of departure.

  He clears his throat, steadying his nerves once more.

  "I know a man of your caliber must be in high demand, or otherwise busy. But I wouldn't mind showing you something if you have but a moment?" he offers hopefully.

  "Certainly," Gale replies with genuine curiosity, his earlier farewell put on pause. "I am at your leisure. Your company and insights are most welcome."

  He gestures for Agreth to lead the way, his demeanor settling to one of attentive anticipation.

  In turn Agreth gives me a gentle nod of gratitude and indicates that they should leave the tavern. Twisting through the throngs of people laughing, shouting and in various states of self made merriment, they make their way outside.

  Stepping out the evening air, it is fresh and cool, quickly snatching the warmth from the surface of their skin. Agreth shivers a moment, rubbing his arms. While vibrant his garments do little to keep out the cold now that the sun has lowered more.

  He glances around quickly at what is available in this small outskirts of Baldur’s Gate community looking for a suitable spot.

  Noting Agreth’s search, Gale offers a slight gesture towards a quieter area just off the main path, where the light from nearby lanterns casts a soft glow.

  "Perhaps over there? It seems a fitting place for a private showing, away from the lively throng of the tavern."

  Once they reach the spot, Gale stands with an expectant and respectful attention, his interest clearly piqued.

  "Now then, what is this marvel you wish to share? I am all anticipation."

  His eyes gently encourage Agreth to reveal his intent, ready to appreciate the depth of what he’s about to present.

  Agreth in turn, shifts his weight from one foot to another, a subtle betrayal of nervousness, though his face remains pleasantly calculated. He reaches onto his back to produce his bow and violin. The tools of his craft.

  "I don't usually do this" he starts "Usually I work on a song for a few days, and by the time it's at perfection the original hero is long gone" he adds with an air of remorse.

  "But you've so clearly inspired me and touched something, I believe I could give you a preview now" he raises his bow to touch the strings poised in an elegant stance "If you'd like" he adds holding Gale’s gaze.

  Gale’s eyes light up with genuine delight at his proposal.

  "A live performance, directly inspired by our conversation? Truly, Agreth, there is no greater honor you could bestow upon me.” the appreciative tone adding a layer of warmth to his usually composed demeanor.

  “Please, proceed. I am all ears, and eagerly await the notes that you've woven from the threads of our dialogue."

  As Agreth positions his violin and draws the bow, Gale settles into an attentive stance, his whole being focused on the present moment, ready to absorb the essence of Agreth’s artistry. The setting, with its dim lights and the subtle chill of the night, lends itself perfectly to the intimacy and immediacy of the private performance about to be given.

  "Begin when you are ready, and know that regardless of the state of perfection, it is the emotion and truth in the music that capture the soul," Gale encourages, his voice soft yet earnest, eager to be immersed in the melody Agreth has crafted.

  And so Agreth starts.

  The music starts low and slow, the violin singing of sweet sadness, of lost lives, of forgotten dreams, of hopeful forbidden desires. It sings into the night, greeting the chill, and weaving into the ambient sounds of crickets, of the wind in trees, of distant jovial conversations.

  As Agreth plays, his eyes close, falling entirely into his craft, letting the violin use him as its conduit, their conversation and Gale acting as his muse.

  The music intensifies slightly, the sorrow weaving with beauty, with power, with bitterness. A cacophony of emotions, all twisted and feuding but somehow unified. It continues celebrating the nature of their hearts, minds and desires.

  Lastly it ends on the same low sorrowful note it began with, and with a flourish ends all too soon. The last note hanging in the air, the usual still silence of the night now deafening.

  As the last haunting note of his violin lingers in the cool air, and the profound silence envelops them. A silence filled with the echo of the emotions expertly drawn forth and woven into Agreth’s melody.

  Slowly, Gale also opens his eyes, which had drifted shut in his absorption of the music, reflecting on the depth of what they've just experienced.

  "That was... magnificent," Gale finally speaks, his voice low and filled with sincere appreciation.

  "Your music not only captures the essence of our shared narratives and personal revelations but elevates them into a universal expression of human emotion and experience."

  He steps slightly closer, his expression earnest, touched by the raw beauty of his performance.

  "You have a remarkable gift, not only to play but to translate the complexities of life and magic into sound. The sorrow, the beauty, the intertwined destinies… all palpable, all resonating deeply within me."

  Offering a respectful bow, a gesture from one artist to another.

  "Thank you for sharing such a personal piece of your art. It’s a profound reminder of how closely intertwined our spirits are with our crafts, and how through sharing them, we share parts of our very souls."

  The moment feels suspended in time, the connection between them strengthened through the medium of Agreth’s music, a bridge built not just of words, but of shared understanding and emotional resonance.

  A slight blush creeps across Agreth’s cheeks and he smiles in thanks and appreciation of the praise. A little at loss for words, surprised by the sense of vulnerability that even he was not expecting to feel. There was something more tender to the song than he had intended.

  This does not go unnoticed by Gale who regards it with a gentle, understanding smile.

  "It's the mark of true artistry. To feel as much as to inspire feelings."

  They let the quiet moment linger a bit.

  Finally Gale looks around at the quiet night around them, now seemingly even more silent after Agreth’s music.

  "Such moments are the jewels of life, are they not? Fleeting yet invaluable. Thank you for this gift, Agreth. It will linger long in my memory, a melody to recall with fondness in quieter, reflective times."

  Agreth clears his throat, gathering his composure once more, and trying to regain a sense of control over the situation, over his performance.

  "Well hopefully it can be the first step to a new branch in that pruned tree." he smiles wistfully.

  “Your music did indeed grace some of the quieter corners of my spirit, filling them with a warmth that is both unexpected and appreciated."

  Gale shakes his head slightly, still smiling, the playful challenge accepted and enjoyed.

  "It seems your bardic talents extend beyond music and into the realm of stirring the occasionally dumbstruck wizard. Well played, Agreth, well played."

  With a respectful bow of his head he adds, "Your music, like a gentle rain, nurtures the soil of the soul, encouraging new growth in even the most barren of branches. So, in a sense, you've not only entertained but healed a little of what was lost. For that, my thanks."

  "It was a pleasure to take in your tale and return some of what you lost in return" Agreth responds, offering a bow as well. "I suppose... this is goodbye then" he adds hesitantly, his bow and violin dropping to his sides still in hand.

  Gale nods solemnly, feeling the weight of parting after such an enriching exchange.

  "For now, perhaps, but not forever, I would hope. Paths that have crossed as ours have tend to intersect again, guided by the fates or by the Weave itself."

  Stepping forward, Gale extends his hand, an offer of camaraderie and a promise of future meetings.

  "Until we meet again, Agreth, may your journeys be safe, your audiences appreciative, and your music ever-evolving. You have a rare gift; share it generously, as you have tonight."

  With a final smile, he adds "Thank you for a truly memorable evening."

  Agreth shifts his bow from his hand to free it to take Gales extended one. It was warm and inviting, Agreth’s own cooled from being exposed to the night air.

  He gives it a firm squeeze and nods in response to his words

  "If we are to meet again, I will thank the fates, truly." He meets his eyes once more, hesitating to break the contact.

  Gale returns his gaze steadily.

  "May the winds of fortune and the whims of the Weave guide you well, Agreth. Carry the memory of this night as a beacon in your travels, and let it inspire your melodies as you have inspired me."

  With a nod and a respectful bow, Gale steps back, breaking the contact and allowing the space for their parting.

  "Farewell, and may your days be filled with music and joy." Gale turns slowly, ready to continue on his own journey.

  Agreth stands a little defeated as he watches Gale retreat back into the night, slowly getting lost in the evening crowds of the streets, his own shoulders slumping in slight disappointment.

  Late season fireflies stirred in the absence of their meeting. Blinking quietly into the growing darkness, as Agreth stares reflecting.

  It was a wonderful interview and a wonderful experience. So why did he feel so saddened?