I woke up startled by insistent knocks on the door. They weren't strong enough to break it down, but carried an urgency that made me think that might have been exactly the point.
— Boy, wake up! Your contractors want to speak with you — said Malaca from the other side.
I got out of bed and dressed quickly, only to find Malaca outside, clearly irritated, her disheveled hair reflecting her frustration.
— If the payment weren't so high, I would've smashed at least two of their faces myself. Find out what they want and deal with it quickly. With any luck, I won't have to see them ever again.
— No problem. I'll talk to them and let you know.
Only then did I realize how tired I was. It was already past lunchtime — and coming from someone like Malaca, who also slept in since she was more active at night, being woken up at that hour meant something serious was going on.
— Sorry for the delay, I ended up falling asleep. How can I help you?
— First of all, we'd like to thank you for the buff. It was extremely helpful — said a polite woman.
— I heard from Malaca. She mentioned you made some profit from it.
— I apologize for not letting you know sooner. It happened rather suddenly. But if you'd like, I can offer you some extra compensation.
— Miss Cíntia, I think he's already earned enough — Marlon interrupted, his tone curt.
— Marlon, could you stay quiet for a moment? We have enough problems already — she replied, visibly annoyed.
— Don't worry, Miss Cíntia. Marlon is right. As I said before, I didn't know the buff would have such an effect, and I was paid for what I agreed to do. I'm just glad it was useful to the group.
If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that being polite with nobles usually keeps your head attached to your neck — and I had no interest whatsoever in drawing unwanted attention, especially now that I was finally starting to find a bit of stability.
— About that — Cíntia said —, I'd like to know if you're available for hire. I'm willing to pay well. As you may have noticed, even though our group is well balanced, we don't have anyone specialized in buffs or debuffs.
I had already talked with Malaca about the ideal party composition for dungeon exploration. The standard formation included a warrior, the berserker role which was filled by Clarisse, a healer or life support — Marlon —, a ranged DPS, usually an archer, gunsmith, or even a shaman, a role filled by Silvia, and a melee DPS, played by Cíntia herself, heiress of a traditional family of fighters.
For the first time, I noticed her physique. Her clothes were a bit looser and revealed defined muscles, worthy of a bodybuilder. Malaca had already told me that wealthier groups usually had members with varied abilities, but the rarest were those whose powers benefited the entire group. Such classes — like bards, paladins, warlocks, and some high-level clerics — were hard to come by.
— I really appreciate the offer, but unfortunately, I have an exclusivity contract with Miss Malaca. That prevents me from leaving the city or joining other groups. Still, I'll always be around if you need occasional help.
I had absolutely no desire to join them. But saying that outright would have been rude. I preferred to rely on a half-truth: although the contract with Malaca didn't actually exist, I wished it did. At most, Cíntia might try to confirm it with her, and maybe that would even help make the agreement real.
— I understand, Mr. Bard. But before we go, I'd like to give you a share of my earnings, and also thank you in person. Your help shortened our journey by weeks. I'm part of the Imperial School of Magic and Combat, and if we ever need something like what you offered again, I'll mention your name.
— I appreciate your kindness, but you can keep your share. Having my name recommended by someone like you is already the greatest opportunity a simple bard like me could hope for.
I knew that if I accepted that money, I'd end up indebted to a noble. I took the chance to reinforce my distance and avoid any ties. From Cíntia's expression, I could tell I had ruined some plan she might have been working on. The others in the group also seemed confused by my refusal of easy money. But if there's one lesson life has taught me, it's that nothing comes for free. And if you can't tell what you're paying for, it's probably because you're the product.
— Very well, if that's how you prefer it, fine. In any case, thank you — said Cíntia in a neutral tone. — I'm off. I wish you the best, Bard Fly.
— Thank you very much, everyone. Perhaps we'll meet again.
The farewell was simpler than I expected. And the money, curiously enough, arrived faster than I imagined. I later found out that Cíntia had negotiated a bonus with Malaca — without even consulting me. But since it was something settled between them, I didn't worry about it. Malaca was glowing with the result, and the whole town seemed to breathe an air of optimism, each in their own way.
It didn't take long for the rumors to spread: there was a real Bard in Strugar. In less than a week, I was being approached by all sorts of people looking to make mutual-aid deals. Thankfully, I let Malaca handle all of it for me. Her greed, for once, gave me a bit of peace — at least until the following week.
— Boy, we've been blessed with a rare opportunity. Some merchants from the capital are coming to town, and among them is a young aspiring warrior. You know what that means — said Malaca, her eyes gleaming with the anticipation of profit.
She might have a good heart, but when it came to money, she turned almost predatory. According to her information, a wealthy bourgeois was passing through the city, bringing his son — a beginner looking to level up. Malaca knew he would need help, and since his father had a "bottomless bag" of coins, she saw a golden opportunity. Unfortunately, all the local guilds had already offered some kind of support, but there was still a gap: none of them had a buffer. And that's where I came in.
— What do you think? The payment will be great. Any average buff will do — she said. — He just needs to feel stronger. That way, we both profit.
— Fly, I think it's a good idea — Helena said, approaching. — You're not exactly busy this week...
She was right. I was feeling useless, just eating, sleeping, and occasionally strolling through the city. I tried to use the time to build closer ties with the townsfolk — which was easy, since everyone knew about my power. Still, without a goal, everything felt dull. Every day I felt like playing something new, but the fear of wasting the buff held me back. It was like having a golden ticket that could only be used once. Songs that had already produced buffs no longer had any effect when played again.
— Alright, Miss Malaca. I'll leave the contract and service details in your hands. But please, could you explain to the client about the randomness of the buffs? I don't want a repeat of last time's misunderstanding.
The week went by faster than I expected, and my excitement grew each day. I would finally have the chance to play a new song and, who knows, expand my repertoire for the guild's evening gatherings. But something was bothering me.
— Which song should I choose? — I murmured.
— Why not play any one of them? Didn't you say the buff is random? — Helena replied with a shrug.
— Yes, but... I feel like the randomness follows a pattern. I just haven't figured it out yet.
My mind kept spinning, trying to understand how to choose the next song. I knew the summoning buff was extremely rare — usually practiced by warlocks. The stat-boosting buff was the most common among bards. That led me to believe my power didn't follow a fixed path. Even Malaca was starting to doubt whether it would ever be possible to predict what buff would appear. My most promising theory was that the lyrics of the song influenced the type of power, but it was hard to test without real practice.
— Fly, the merchants have arrived! One of them sells clothes. Let's go see what they brought? — suggested Helena, excited.
The city of Strugar, like so many others surrounded by dungeons, had an economy based on mana and life stones. That meant relying on bigger cities to restock. Because of that, it was common for adventurous merchants to travel great distances and face many dangers to sell their goods here.
There were escort missions at the guild, but that kind of job never appealed to me. I didn't want to become a wanderer, jumping from town to town. Still, the arrival of the merchants brought a wave of novelty — and Helena seemed especially thrilled.
— Let's go, Helena. From what I understand, Malaca scheduled the meeting with the bourgeois to discuss the price later tonight.
— UHUUUUU!
I was fascinated by the way Helena was enchanted by everything around her — as if the world was still brand new to her. Every color, texture, or smell seemed like a fresh experience. As for me... well, my view of the world was a bit more gray. I grew up in a time when everything was more integrated, more accessible.
Sometimes, I found myself missing the simplest things — like a good ice cream. Something that simply didn't exist in Strugar. And probably didn't exist anywhere around here, not with this outdated technology.
— I see you made the most of the merchants — commented Bromeia, meeting us at the entrance of the guild. — But if you don't have someone to negotiate for you, you'll end up with nothing in your pockets.
She had a point. It was already nearly nightfall by the time we got back, and despite spending hours among stalls and tents, we had bought very little. That was because Helena was anything but a spendthrift. We spent over two hours haggling over the price of a simple snack called "Capavel" — a sweet bread made from something that resembled honey. It was delicious, no doubt. But the price was unreasonable for me. If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have even tasted it.
But Helena insisted. And with her charming stubbornness, she kept chatting with the merchant until she got a discount. I'm almost certain he gave in just to get rid of her. Even so, she walked away smiling like she'd won a battle. And maybe she had.
As soon as we entered the guild, Malaca's voice intercepted us in the hallway:
— You're finally here, boy. Let's head to the room quickly — she said, already walking ahead. — The guest has arrived. Miss Helena.
— Miss Malaca — Helena replied respectfully.
— I'm borrowing your boy for a while. Shall we?
— I'll be back soon, Helena. Let's go, Miss Malaca.
We walked side by side through the guild's corridors toward the room reserved for important negotiations. The air in there always felt heavier — maybe because of the scent of polished wood, maybe because of the kind of talks held within.
And for the first time in days, I felt my heart race with a touch of anxiety.
The song I would choose that night might define my future.