Page 12 of The Ballad of a Bard

After an easy press of a cold, metal coin into his hand, theylearned that his name was Zion. A bribe, plain as day, but one that worked. West knew who owned this place, and knew the man did as well. Bribery might as well have been the only way to draw information out of Zion.

“And that would be located where, dear fellow?” Altivar swiped his thumb under his pointer finger as he pretended to find more interest in it than the man who stood in front of them.

Arrogant asshole.

“I- I don’t know. The competitors come from all three levels, so he could be anywhere in the city.”

“Leave him alone, Altivar. If he doesn’t know, menacing behaviour isn’t going to miraculously make his memory snap to something that isn’t there in the first place.” West jerked the Prince’s scarf, pulling him out of the foul mood. “We can dig up more information later. But for now, it’s late and I have things to do at the Compass.”

“Very well.” The Prince almost scowled, but seemed to rethink it a moment later as he turned it into a feline smile that most men would have run from. Zion almost did as a perceptible shudder went through him. “If you happen todig upmore information regarding Red Lyric, then please, by all means, come seek me out.”

The male bobbed his head hastily before racing down the opened gate and disappearing into shadows.

“He knows more than he’s letting on, West.” Altivar shoved off the barrier and began walking out of the arena. The sand had been brushed over with a wooden comb, apparent by the fine lines that appeared in the gritty texture. There was no sign of blood along the grains, nor white pieces of bones that stuck up.

“That may be the case, butfrighteninghim isn’t going to get the correct information out. Men tend to blurt out whatever random thing they think will help in the moment. Especially ifit means sparing them from any sort of agonising infliction or tormented pain.”

“You have another idea, then I take it?”

West shrugged. “Money always seems to loosen tongues faster than threats. I heard that Red Lyric fights again in two days. Why not come down to the pits and see hi-heronce more, and try to offer the man a hefty sum to see if he knows more than he’s letting on?”

Altivar hummed softly, “Not a terrible thought. I suppose it’s worth a try. Can I assume correctly that you’ll be by my side once again, Captain?”

He let out a long, suffering sigh, “Wouldn’t miss it for all the world.”

After accompanying the lesser Saint back to the palace and checking in on the Empress aftwards, who was found with her tapered nose glued to a book, West finally followed the cobblestone road to the Spinning Compass. He passed through the Gold Gate, noticing the street lights were already low. He wandered through the Silver Gate, watching the few vagabonds as they scurried home for the night. After an hour of nothing but walking, he at last found himself through the Bronze Gate.

It was late, later than most of his tenants would be up past, so he didn’t expect to run into anyone as he unlocked the back door of the building and slipped inside. The hazy candlelight in the glass sconces was low, but hadn’t gone out quite yet indicating that someone must have relit them. He knew that it was one of the folk who lived here, and tended after it for him in his absence.

It was one of the reasons the cost of living here was cheaperthan most, even in the lowest slums of the city. He wasn’t around as often, leaving the matter of things to his residents.

West opened the first and blew out the candle, following up with the rest in the downstairs chamber. A small room, meant for those checking in. There was a rack of keys behind the counter that was secure behind a glass door that required a key to get into. There were tags that went accordingly to each of the ten rooms that took up most of the space. Four rooms were located on the bottom level, not including the check in counter. The second floor was full with five rooms, where most of them were single bed chambers.

The entire third floor was a single apartment, his.

He quietly took the steps off to the far right without the need for a candle to guide him. Because he was Westley Saint, the Northern Star and he could see perfectly clear in the dark. It didn’t matter what sort of dark it was either. It could be that of thieves and threats that remained in the blackest shade possible, and he would be able to make everything out in exact clarity.

His name was a joke, at least the idea of it.

Dream laughed at his other suggestions when they were all sitting around, trying to figure out names that would allow them to blend in seamlessly within the mortal realm. Ronan O’Neal was instantly turned down, as Heartache stated that it didn’t fit his looks at all.

But the Saint had been low in spirits, his voice barely coming above that of a scratch.

The option of Erius Bale was berated until he didn’t feel like coming up with a third one.

It was an impossible challenge, after all.

A name, one that he’d be stuck with for the next thirty to sixty years, depending on how long he wished to remain in Tazalialongside Muse. There was so much of the vast realm of Hisaith that demanded for exploration anyways, that he could simply start over and select a new name when he grew bored of the Empire.

Imp added their own crazed opinion at that moment. “North, South, East andWest! Only you can know what’s best!”

Dream gasped, dropping the peach and pear drink that she’d been slowly sipping from over the last hour and wiggled her pointer finger at Imp. “That one! West!”

A feminine laugh followed after, letting North know that she was entirely kidding. But the name stuck with him, like the sort of hat that felt right.

“West.” He murmured, feeling it around within his mouth. He tasted each letter, adding a couple to the back end of it to lengthen it. “Westley.”

“Oh,” Dream sighed in a forlorn resonance, “That’s actually not terrible. It suits you rather well.” Her voice was that of sleepers, lost to both realms as if she were forever permanently stuck in a state of daydreaming.

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