— My family has always been Protestant. I still remember when we used to wake up really early on Sundays. It was funny how I actually looked forward to that moment — the music, the voices… everything felt magical.
— Is that why you wanted to become a singer, Dad?
— I think so. Maybe that made me like music more than other people. I mean, I always thought your grandfather was kind of tacky.
— Grandpa totally was!
— He was… eccentric. One day, for example, he came home with a new record and put it on the record player that your grandmother almost killed him for buying. We were in the middle of dinner, and he didn't care. That was typical of him. And the music was… beautiful.
— But who was it? Elvis? Jimi? Bob? You like all of them, right, Dad?
— I do, yes. But they didn't exist in your grandfather's youth — or at least, they weren't writing their own songs yet. In fact, he thought they were all just marketing products, created to brainwash the youth of that time. Haha!
— I didn't understand any of that.
— And I thank God for that… It was a lesser-known artist: Rosetta Tharpe.
— Never heard of her. Is she cool?
— She lived in a tough time, sweetheart. But she shone like a star should. It was listening to her songs that made me fall in love with art.
— Can you sing one of hers for me?
.
.
.
— Boy… BOY!?
— Mr. Bernald! Sorry, I was thinking out loud.
— You gonna stand there watching me work all day? Because honestly, I'd rather do this alone.
— Sorry, it's just that I don't really have anywhere else to go… and I got curious about your work.
— Kid, if you want to see my work, become my apprentice. Otherwise, get out and come back later — your order will be ready.
— Sorry, Mr. Bernald. I'm leaving now…
Damn. And I really thought I'd be able to figure out what he was doing. I don't even know how to hold a hammer properly… I'm gonna have to trust that dwarf.
Since I had already seen the city the day before, I decided to wait at the Tavern, but as soon as I got there, Malaca approached me.
— Kid, you're back already? I thought you'd wait outside for Bernald to finish. Let me guess: he kicked you out?
— Yes, Miss Malaca. He said he'd only teach me if I agreed to be his apprentice.
— Okay, folks, pay up! I was right. Where do you think you're going, Robero? Hand over that money, you skinny son of a gun!
The bar, even though it was daytime, was still full. Apparently, they had bet that I'd be kicked out of the forge… and, apparently, the one who started the bet was Malaca herself.
— Don't give me that look. Things move slowly around here. Sometimes you gotta chase the money.
— I get it. Either way, I'll go up to the room and wait for my order to be ready.
— Oof, kid, hate to spoil your fun, but your contractors are at that table over there. I suggest you go talk to them. They don't seem too thrilled about you not knowing what kind of buff they're gonna get…
At the table, my first impression wasn't great. Long hair, stuck-up nose — the closest thing to an egocentric I've ever met. But, according to Malaca, that was typical of any self-respecting aristocrat.
— Ladies… sir… I believe you were waiting for me. How can I help you?
— Wow, you're so young! I thought you'd be older. When did you become an adventurer?
— Silvia, could you stop with so many questions? First of all, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fly. I believe you're already aware of our request, but I wanted to meet you in person, introduce my companions, and clear up a few doubts. I believe you've already met our archer, Silvia.
— Hello!
— But I'd also like to introduce you to our vanguard, Clarisse.
Clarisse was probably of the same race as Bernald. She stood no taller than 1.2 meters, but her arms were as thick as a bodybuilder's in a final competition.
— What's up, weakling? — said the short dwarf woman with a teasing smile.
— This is our healer, Marlon. And I'm Cíntia, the fighter. We came from far away on a mission, but as you probably know, we've been running into some difficulties.
I already knew what their real difficulty was: reaching level 2 of the dungeon. The fights were always part of it, but what kills the most adventurers isn't the dungeon itself — it's the constant battles on the way there and back. And that's where I come in.
— I need to know if you can really give us a useful buff. I know it might be impolite to question your ability, but I'd like to know: what are the chances of something going wrong?
— Well… if you're asking whether there's a chance I might cast a useless buff… yes, that possibility exists.
You could say the whole table got uncomfortable with that answer. But I preferred to be honest from the start. Better to deal with small problems now than face a disaster later.
— Even so, I want to help you. And, if possible, ask for your help as well.
— Interesting… What are you proposing, Mr. Fly?
— Just call me Fly. I'd like to include a bonus in our deal…
Before I could finish, Marlon cut me off, raising his voice:
— This is outrageous! You're telling us you can't guarantee a decent buff and you still want to charge extra? Do you realize how that sounds?
— Marlon… please, calm down. I want to hear what he has to say.
— Cíntia, I know you've got the money, but I think the three of us can handle this. If he ends up casting a debuff on us, we could lose the mission!
— I understand, but I'm the one paying for everything here. And right now, I want to listen. So, kindly… shut up. Fly, I apologize for my companion. But I must admit, I agree with some of his points. We already have a deal. What exactly would we gain by adding this extra bonus for you?
— If I give you… something extraordinary.
They looked at me with pure confusion — exactly what I expected.
— Could you explain better what that means?
— I want to include a clause: if I fail to give the group something truly extraordinary, I don't get paid at all.
The surprise on their faces was clear — and exactly what I was going for. The truth is, I had planned to suggest this only the next day, but since they came to me… it was the perfect opportunity. I was betting that it had been Malaca who closed the initial deal, and I figured they expected a generic bard buff. But if my class was called "Supreme," I believed that had to mean something well beyond the ordinary. Yes, it was risky, but it was also my chance to earn a hefty mountain of coins.
— What do you think?
Their confusion gave way to thoughtful expressions. They started discussing among themselves, but soon Cíntia interrupted:
— Fly, let's talk this through calmly now. Once we've decided, I'll inform Malaca. Until then, I want you to understand that by accepting this clause, you're also agreeing that, if you don't deliver something out of the ordinary… we won't pay you anything.
— I understand perfectly. I'll be waiting for your answer. Either way… see you tomorrow.
— Of course. See you tomorrow.
My first impression was that, despite being young — younger than me, counting both of my lives — Cíntia came across as surprisingly professional. She didn't let me be part of their discussion, but still tried to maintain group harmony, balancing authority with attentive listening. She seemed like a natural leader.
That same afternoon, I went to pick up what Bernald had finished.
— Kid! I don't know what the hell you plan to do with this, but it's ready.
— Thank you very much, Bernald.
— Don't stroke my ego... just fill my pockets.
— No problem. Here are the 8 silver coins, as we agreed. I really appreciate it.
The sun was already setting by the time I managed to gather everything I needed to assemble my instrument. It was time to head to the place where I'd put it all together. But before anything else, I needed to let Helena know I'd be out for the rest of the night while I assembled my new musical instrument. It was essential to have it finished in time for the job the next day.
— Well… now to put it all together… and pray it works.
It took me much longer than I expected. When I finally finished my creation, the sun was already rising, and I had no idea whether Cíntia had accepted my bonus proposal. Either way, I'd find out when I saw her.
— Holy shit, kid! I thought you chickened out… And what the hell is up with those dark circles?
— Sorry for the delay, Miss Malaca. I had to finish my instrument.
— Huh, I thought the one you used last time was your instrument.
— You could say that was the beta version. This one... is the 2.0.
In my hands, I finally had something that felt worthy — more solid, more complete. My first real guitar.
— Looks the same to me… But anyway, let's go. They should be waiting at the dungeon entrance.
— Yes. Helena should still be asleep, and I want to get this done before she wakes up.
The trip to the dungeon was simple. Every road led to the same place: its dark heart — the dungeon. But the closer we got, the more people there were — until the stalls, the shouting, and the smells all blended into a living chaos.
— HAHAHA! Kid, I guess you've never been near a dungeon before, huh? Get used to it. A lot of people are trying to make a living out here. Not all of them are adventurers. You've got herbalists, alchemists, tamers, blacksmiths… you name it. At least you can always find what you need around here. Sure, for double the price — but who's counting, right? Hahahaha!
It was chaos... but a strangely organized one. The spaces were divided, each stall with its trade, its audience. The problem was the crowd. Finding someone there was like looking for a coin in the middle of a battlefield. Still, spotting Cíntia was easy: with that flashy armor, she stood out in the crowd.
— Nobles are all showy like that, huh? Now I get why you wanted that extra bonus. Oh! Almost forgot — about the deal… They accepted.
Before I could even feel happy about the news, Marlon shouted as soon as he saw us.
— So? How long were you planning to keep us waiting out here?
— Marlon, calm down. He's here, isn't he? Fly, thank you for coming, but I need to get moving. Can you do it now? We're in a hurry.
It made sense. Even though this wasn't the biggest dungeon in the world, it still had a circumference of nearly 30 kilometers. The portal to the second level was at the center — well hidden among false entrances and labyrinthine corridors. Even with a map (and I was sure Cíntia had one), it would take hours to get through and back.
— Sorry for the delay. I'll begin now, is that okay?
— Hold on, kid. The deal was to buff only them. I'll help you with that.
At first, I didn't understand how Malaca planned to limit my buff, until I saw her quick arm gestures and, within seconds, a magical dome formed around us and expanded to a radius of three meters. It was like an invisible force field, pushing any curious onlookers to the outskirts. Outside, people protested, but I couldn't hear anything.
— This is… a sound barrier?
— At least you're quick. Exactly. I don't know much about bards, but I know that if people can't hear it, they don't get the buff. That's my cue. You've got four minutes before the barrier fades. I'll be outside explaining the situation. Who knows, maybe I'll even get you some clients? Hahaha! Good luck.
— Thank you very much, Miss Malaca.
— No problem. Just doing my part. Miss Cíntia, I hope you do yours too. Bye!
She turned around without waiting for an answer, but before she disappeared, she gave me a cheeky wink and vanished with a pop — reappearing outside the dome. People looked even more curious, but my attention returned to Cíntia, who called out firmly:
— Very well, mister bard. We're ready. What are you going to play for us?
As she spoke, I carefully unwrapped my instrument, swaddled in a leather cloth I had sewn myself the night before.
— Yes, of course. I'm going to play something my father loved...
⚠️ WARNING: For the full experience of this scene, please follow the instructions.
(Please listen to the first track of the playlist "The Bard" on Spotify. If you can't find my playlist, please listen to Up Above My Head by Sister Rosetta Tharpe.)
Do not continue reading until the song is over. 🎵