CHAPTER 16 Am I Your Favorite Bard?

CHAPTER 16

Am I Your Favorite Bard?

Brownie

“You take joy in my defeat! I knew it!”

Brownie felt the rush of vicarious victory fade as General Knolith accused Rufus. The naga watching from the viewing windows also quieted, and many began to whisper among themselves.

“No! I, um …” Rufus grabbed his exuberant tail. “I simply enjoyed the fight?”

“If it helps, I think we all enjoyed the fight,” Brownie interrupted. No sense watching a rivalry story turn wrong when she could join in and steer everyone in the right direction. “It was a short bout, but your ice sword blast was as beautiful as your footwork! And you both managed to land a hit. Doesn’t that make you happy?”

“What? Happy?” Knolith had dragged his fierce eyes away from Rufus and stared, confused, at her.

“You literally froze the clothes off of Rufus.” Brownie pointed to the fluffy bare chest of the beastman, his sleek muscles covered only by his neutral golden coat.

“She’s right.” Rufus nodded. “It was a close call. And I might not be so lucky next time.”

The tunic he’d sported earlier was a frozen, rumpled sheet lying on the other side of the ring.

Knolith looked between it and the beastman.

“I told myself that I would defeat you, and I will. No matter how long it takesss,” the lizardkin declared. His robes gently swayed without any discernible breeze. Brownie wondered if there was a perk for that. “This was just the beginning. Be prepared for the winter sssolstice. I will inherit my rightful place as commander general! ”

“I thought the Dark Enchanted Forest was a meritocracy?” Brownie interrupted. Both men faced her again, and she shrugged. “Was I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, Bard,” Knolith said. “But I am destined to be the commander general!”

“Did Madame Potts say so?” Brownie asked, still confused where the certainty came from. “Was there a prophecy?”

Rufus was the one who actually answered. “It’s not like that, so far as I’m aware. He just wants the job.”

“ Wantsss the job? ” Knolith repeated, incredulous. “My father was the commander general, as was his mother before him. Our family has been the right hand of the ruling house of Nilheim for thirteen generationsss !”

“The point of a meritocracy is to let everyone have the opportunity to compete. It prevents more deaths in the long run,” Rufus said gently.

“My father died of shame that I did not inherit his title, and I ssswore on his deathbed that I would defeat you. You know this!”

“Your father died of shame?” Brownie interrupted again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rufus frowned. “His father died of a heart attack—and he’s not dead now . Old Dame Julith got to him in time with a Revival potion. I saw him at the St. Veralyn’s Day Tourney last month.”

St. Veralyn’s Day was a holiday celebrating Dragon Veralyn the Green, who’d defeated an evil knight named Sir George of Lindale. Brownie knew many songs featuring the knight’s evil deeds—primarily his well-known dislike for dogs and horses. And the one time he’d kidnapped a dragon’s princess and tried to marry her. Luckily, Veralyn went after the poor girl. Imagine the audacity!

Arranged marriages were stressful enough. Look at Henrietta’s. Her parents had tried to marry her off to an idiot marquess who couldn’t tell the difference between a lyre and a lute! At least the System controlled title contracts for things like marriage or having children. Such things required both parties to select [Yes].

Knolith raised his hand dramatically then made a cutting motion between them, his martial sleeves elegantly flowing with the movement. “I will reclaim my rightful place. And I will defeat you at this Winter Solstice Tourney.”

“I’ll accept your challenge then .” Rufus waved a hand dismissively and went to retrieve his frozen tunic. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a new shirt.” The commander general walked over to Brownie. He slipped on his vest and offered her his free arm. “Shall we?”

She waved goodbye to the lizardkin as she followed Rufus off the plateau and into a cavern stairwell.

“Where’re we going?”

“Have you had a chance to see the city yet? There’s a restaurant with live music overlooking the Carn Waterfall,” Rufus offered. “My treat after getting attacked by one of my generals? ”

Ambient sunset light from the many small window holes carved into the stone blended with the magical lanterns overhead, casting shadows on the stairs.

“That sounds nice … but …” Brownie felt the soft golden fur beneath her hands.

“But?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Shouldn’t we get you a new shirt?”

He chuckled. “Probably.”

“I mean”—she gave him an obvious appraising look—“you look nice without a shirt, but the restaurant might insist?”

Or not. This was the Dark Enchanted Forest. Brownie couldn’t see there being a “No shirt, no pants, no service” rule when half-snake or half-spider or half-horse people commonly wandered about. It would be insulting.

“Then I should definitely put on a shirt,” Rufus joked. “I don’t know how many compliments I can take from my favorite bard.”

“Am I your favorite bard?” The way he said it, so matter of fact like that, didn’t sound like a simple platitude. Brownie took a step forward, now looking up at him from the lower staircase. She was beaming.

Rufus must not have meant to say it that way, by the nervous look on his face, but then, a genuine smile that showed off his canines took over. “Yes. I love your music. You’re incredibly talented, and I can honestly say you’re my favorite performer on the entire continent—and I’ve been to a lot of shows.”

“Thank you.” The admission was more than she expected from the leader of the Dark Lord’s armies. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t mind. “Then I’m happy to go to dinner, your treat.”