The Ballad of Sprikit The Bard And Company

by Sean O'Boyle

“The life of a Bard is living performance to performance. Money is always on the mind.”

It was interesting how fast someone’s tune changed once you won them a little something.

“A good story is a good story. Maybe none of it was true.

Every song remembered, through each instrument played.

This was why you didn’t befriend those you caught up in your schemes. The inevitable annoyance of guilt eventually comes to play.

“Well when you’re so much in the world, the pressures of it start to get to you. We were flamin’ exhausted with it all. Travelling to one place, then to the next. Not knowin’ if a new town would bring fortune or poverty. We got too old for it in the end.

“That is the greatest curse of all, porcito! All that responsibility and power – but no freedom! We can be in this town one night, and then halfway to Varrak another. A king is trapped in a palace, a prisoner of his own birth. Our talent lets us travel the world, living with little worry or care. We don’t have to toil in fields or pick up a sword. We earn our keep playing music. It is a lucky existence to be gifted! “So we owe a debt, no? To the kings. To the soldiers. The bakers, the weavers, the farmers, the stablehands. To everyone else who runs the world. We owe it to them to give them what reprieve we can with our songs. That is our purpose in the world. A Bard must do what he owes with his gift to exist! If we have that talent; that ear for song and merriment, we should not waste it. To turn our backs on our purpose is to turn our backs on the world. What would this world be without a song to listen to?”

Rest, my friend. Your journey’s over. Rest, my friend. It’s at its end Take my hand, oh weary traveller Take my hand, and rest my friend.

He’d been learning with Sazari that being a Bard wasn’t just about playing a tune and calling it a day. You had to draw your audience in. You couldn’t waste a moment in getting them on your side. Some Bards would tell a story, others jokes. The best of Bards could command a room with a single raise of an eyebrow.

“You nobles are all the same! You use us like pawns and then act surprised when we ask for a piece ourselves!

“Performances are fun. Sure, you can sit and practice here all day, but if you try too hard you take all the fun out of it.

“A Bard’s instrument is his own, until he is no more. Then it goes to Medin to be passed to another. That is how we Bards do things.”

Yes hello, nice to meet you folks. Oh, don’t mind the damage to your ancient-looking door, we just couldn’t find the key under the bloody mat! Oh, by the way, I’m wanted for theft and mur–

“Been too long since I had a fight. A real fight, without bloody lute magic.” “It’s not magic. Don’t be superstitious!” “Well what else would you call it?” “Music, Tallew! Music can move people in more ways than one.”

“Now, now soldier fellas,” she began, cracking her neck from side to side. “Didn’t your ma ever teach you it was rude to bring swords to a fist fight?”

“You are addressing a lord of Galzar, Bard!” he yelled, not entirely clearly. “Show some respect!” “Yes well, we don’t appear to be in Galzar, do we? This is Medin, sir. This is the Free Lands. Our rules are our own and are to be abided by all who visit. The first rule of Medin is to speak from the heart. My heart tells me that you are a skinny fop who rarely hears the word ‘no’. Now, keep quiet and let me make sense of all this!”

When one becomes a Bard, they owe a debt, came Sazari’s voice. So we owe a debt, no? To everyone else who runs the world. A Bard must do what he owes with his gift to exist! To turn our backs on our purpose is to turn our backs on the world. What would this world be without a song to listen to?