I Refused To Be Reincarnated

Before Adam knew it, he was following Yann and the musician down the corridor above the bar.

A thick silence hung in the air, their steps echoing against the closed doors flanking them. He could even catch snippets of what happened behind a few. A man throwing up after yesterday’s hangover and cursing his bad luck with the cards. The creak of a bed, soft moans, and honeyed whispers. From another, hushed voices filtered through—low, urgent, and laced with danger.. Whatever they were saying was clearly not for him or anyone to hear.

Unsatisfied with being kept in the dark, he leaned toward Yann’s ear, his voice barely audible. "Who’s that man, and why the multicolored cape?"

Yann’s eyes darted between Adam and the man for a second. Then, he covered his mouth, whispering. "Not people you want to offend, lad."

He pointed at the flutist’s cape as it fluttered with a cascade of shifting hues. "He’s a member of the minstrels, a group of sweet-tongued storytellers, silver-fingered musicians, and performers as swift and fluid as sylphs weaving between tree branches..." His voice dropped lower as if he was scared of being heard. "Officially. In reality, they’re members of one of the oldest orders in the archipelago. They hold more deadly secrets than even the most corrupt noble household..."

Before he could continue, the musician halted cold in his tracks. He snapped his head at Yann, his hand finding the cold key to the room facing him. With a soft click, he unlocked it, then beckoned with a curt, demanding gesture. "You don’t seem to realise the scale of what we know. A noble household?"

He sneered, shifting the subject by sizing up Yann’s battered coat. A single glance confirmed what he had already suspected. A noble coat battered and torn by years of abuse. The hauberk hidden beneath, broken in several parts, left to dangle against skin. Sharp marks of sword slashes on the leather pauldron whispered of a dangerous life for a mage, one of adventuring outside the archipelago and battling cultivators.

"Interesting," he said, gesturing inside the modest room. "I’m sure you have much to recount, and it so happens I just freed a few minutes from my schedule."

Yann stepped inside, sitting directly around the table. The sound of the music from the bar below and the smell of old wood filled the air as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And you seem to underestimate my knowledge of your order." He glanced at Adam as if to remind him not to answer any of the minstrel’s questions. "My story is of no interest to the archipelago’s broadest spy network. Why don’t we focus on our business instead?"

Realising who they were dealing with, Adam sat beside Yann. A frown creased his brows as he locked his gaze on the multicolored cape, its meaning now entirely different.