The woods were lush and green, the grasses awash with flowers in a medley of colours. The bees were buzzing about their work, and the birds sang their songs from every branch. It was a truly perfect day, made all the better by how I spent it.
I rode atop Elphin, who casually navigated for me, leaving my hands free to strum my lute. I was in my bardic gear, serenading Percy and Maeve. They rode behind me, sitting demurely in side saddle in dresses fit for maidens of any court from Albion to the Thousand City Sea. They smiled merrily, and all was watched over by Gaz, who alone rode in full armour, even his face covered in steel.
This is what my cultivation was about. Not sitting in one place fussing about politics or considering dire prophecy. No, it was making music and exploring a most beautiful world, seeking inspiration as I delighted audiences across the lands. I sang a serenade to the two ladies, who smiled in appreciation. They alone appreciated the hidden depths I wove into the tune.
Oh lasses fair with cheeks aglow,
Like dawn on burnished blade and bow,
Thy laughter rings like silver chimes—
Yet echoes deep in darker times.
Your fingers trail on goblet’s rim,
So soft, so pale, so delicate—slim…
But I have seen, behind such grace,
The glint that sleeps in shadowed place.
Oh damsels fair of silken guise,
What secrets dwell behind those eyes?
What songs are sheathed 'neath silken lace?
What edges lie in thy embrace?
I woo with harp, with honeyed word,
But wind and branch speak truths unheard—
The hush of steel, the breath of war,
A sweetness baiting something more.
So let the suitor take his chance,
And dance the damsels’ dainty dance—
For those who touch the blossom’s cheek,
May find what hunts behind the meek.
And when the trap with beauty springs,
The rose shall show her hidden wings—
Not angels’ white, but silver-bright,
Knights in bloom, amid blood and might.
“They've taken the bait,” Gaz's voice whispered in my ear, the glamour carrying it silently over the strumming of my lute. My mood sank. It was getting depressing how effective this particular strategy was proving.
I continued playing but shifted myself subtly. While most bandits avoided shooting arrows first, afraid to wound our valuable steeds, there had been incidents before. I rarely got involved in the doling out of justice aspect of the work, but when one of the bastards had shot Elphin in panic, I had decided to involve myself directly.
We came to a dense copse of trees that would block our options for fleeing, and lo and behold, as I turned a corner, placed in the centre of the road was a tree trunk stuck with spikes to block our path. It was kind of pathetic. Every one of our horses could have jumped it with ease, and that was if we got to it before Maeve could whittle it down into mere wood chips.
Standing in the middle was a man dressed in mismatched armour. He grinned, levelling a blade.
“I’m Edgar tha Red. Surrenda now n’ we'll make this quick. Youse all surrounded. Beg for our mercy,” the man bellowed.
“Oh deary me,” Maeve said, her tone sharp and threatening. Her acting hadn't improved in the last few weeks. At least she had stopped shooting off the evil eye at random. She did not appreciate acting as bait.
“What scoundrels, such terrible luck!” Persephone fanned herself as if she were some wilting flower set to collapse. Her hand settled on her lips to cover the wicked smile she wore.
“He’s bronze, and there’s one other behind us. Thirteen in the woods, mostly mortal, four of them of wood,” Gaz's voice whispered in my ear, carried on a thread of sound glamour. “Stall for a minute so the others can catch up.”
“Knight, thars just ta one of you. We’se got five cultivators here. Youse dead if ya so much as twitch! Nah reason this has to get bloody, we’re not savages. We'll just take yar horse, armour n coin. Nah point in falling in a pointless battle.” The man was lying. I could smell the blood and worse on his body. Then there was the cruel way he eyed the two ‘damsels in distress’.
Gaz raised his hands carefully, trying to come across as non-threatening, a challenge for a man in full plate. His body language spoke of barely contained fury, as if this was the greatest indignity he'd ever been forced to suffer. It was an improvement over the time he'd burst out laughing.
“Mr Red, sir, please don't hurt my companions and me, we will comply if you guarantee our safe conduct,” I whimpered, dismounting Elphin. The horse was the worst actor of us all, watching Edgar with utter contempt. Once I was down he headed over to a patch of grass to graze, utterly unfazed.
“Given yar dressed like a fool, is good to see wisdom from ya. Behave ‘n’ this'll be sum sore memory.” The man lowered his blade a touch, and from out of the forest his men started to appear. They were all dressed in rough clothing, many had only simple daggers. This was the part where I felt a little guilty. It was like watching a flock of pigeons pick a fight with a ballista. Behind me I felt Maeve and Percy tense.