Page 2 of The Ballad of a Bard

North took one last look as the magic settled over Heartache, rounding out his harsh edges until he merely looked no older than thirty-eight. Which struck his humorous bone considering the male was the oldest out of them all, their maker in fact. But he didn’t let that fact settle over his shoulders for too long as he glanced towards the awaiting world. Then he turned on his heels, opened the door and walked down the cobblestone street that led up to the Empire.

One

West eyed the stunning female carrying a stack of books nearly as tall as she was, with a few in precarious positions. Though, considering the female wasn’t very tall, perhaps his perception was warped. Her lack of height didn’t stop him however, as he asked, “Need any help, Empress?

Empress Osira Talon shook her dark-golden hair and smiled widely at him with flashing white teeth. “I think I can manage, but if you’ll open the door for me, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

He strolled over without a second thought, grabbing the door for her before she nearly ran into it.

“Where is Prince Altivar? Doesn’t he usually carry your multitude of tomes for you?” He questioned as a pang of relief spread through him in the absence of the spoiled heir apparent.

West wasn’t fond of the man, and that was putting it politely. If he had to, he could summon a few choice words regarding the cocky, arrogant royal. Happily, too.

“He’s in the yard, practising his spear-handling with Rookand Satori.” She used her sandal-bound foot to gesture towards the open yard where most of the men practised when they had down time. He was impressed that not a single book toppled from her stacked grasp, or the fact that she didn’t wobble in the slightest. “Something about showing off for the men and women around, and finding a new interest of his.”

West followed her like a dutiful hound as she continued to stroll down the hall, heading for her own room with the perilously stacked tower of books. There were several doors before her room, ones he’d be more than fine to open for her if it meant saving her for an avalanche of knowledge.

“Of course. Doesn’t the Prince ever tire of…flaunting?” He lifted his brow, knowing the heir’s habits all too well. Females and males that came in and out of his chambers at all hours of the night, and sometimes more than one. The Prince wasn’t exactly private with his night time habits, nor did he want to be. Another way to show off, it seemed.

“Altivar is young, experiencing the ways of the world. Let him enjoy it while he has the freedom to do so. As long as they enter his chambers of their own free will, I see no problem with it.” Osira reached her room at last, and West rushed in front of her to open the door.

“You’re aSaint.” She kissed the air once towards him as a show of appreciation. He snorted, falling behind her once again.

“As long as you have no issue with it, then that’s truly all that matters.” He let the door shut behind them as she began to carefully slide the mountain of books onto her already overflowing desk of partially read manuscripts.

“What, you don’t approve of an ever-spinning carousel of women and men?” Her lovely eyes sparkled with suggestion, and perhaps a bit of mischief. But that was normal for the woman.If anything, West would find it strange to not see even a glint of impish delight within her gaze.

“In all the time you’ve known me, have you ever thought that to be my sort of thing?” He adjusted the sapphire cape that fell from his shoulders. He didn’t like things floating on the wind behind him, but it was part of the uniform and he wore it quite well.

“No, but I’ve also never known you to take asinglelover to your bed.” Osira huffed with amusement. “In decades, I might add. Not that I’ve been paying too close attention to what you do in your spare time, so my calculations could be severely off.”

West instantly stopped messing with the article of clothing, his face hardening as if a master carver turned him into perfected marble. “What point is there? You know why I don’t.”

“One of these days, you’re going to accidentally run into someone that has absolutely no meaning to you whatsoever, and find that they will mean everything to you within a blink of an eye.” The Empress scolded as if she were his mother, his matron, something. “And when thatdoes happen, because itwill- you can mark my words, don’t try to point fingers at Heartache, or shrug it off. Savour it. Enjoy it. Live it.Loveit.”

“You’re very good at giving orders, you know that?” A boyish smile appeared on his face, brushing off her not-so-suggestive-suggestion.

She started sorting the tall pile of books into three different piles, each with categories that made no sense to him. “Why do you think I took up this role when I heard there was a vacancy?”

“Because you get bored when you have no power and have to answer to others.” West answered easily enough with a coy slickness that slipped off his tongue. “Or was I supposed to keep that part to myself?”

Osira stopped her strange sorting to ruefully glare at him. It was all for show. There was never an ounce of parsimoniousness within her stunning person. West considered her to be the nicest soul he’d ever had the good fortune of meeting, and highly doubted ever finding anyone to top it.

She turned her chin upwards. “You could have taken up a role yourself, but instead you chose to be what… a guard dog for the Prince?”

He frowned. “Hey, I’ll remind you that I own a fine establishment that I reside over.”

“Yes, yes. The Spinning Compass. You don’t have to remind me.” She waved her hand in the air, back turned to him as she placed the last two books in different piles. “How many residents do you have currently?”

“Fourteen.”

“Come to me when you rule an Empire.” She laughed lightly, and in the summer wind it sounded like the plucking of harp strings, the blow of flutes, and the whisper of violins.

West picked himself back up and made it to the door. “I’ll leave you be, Empress. I have to go tend to mymightyKingdom of fourteen people.”

“Be careful when you reach the Silver Gate. I hear someone’s been leaving threatening notes to my subjects down there. Something about finding Heartache.” Osira warned with a clear tone that initiated caution.

There were three levels of gates that kept the city safe and separated by sections. The highest gate, the Gold Gate, was only for those like the Empress. It held the finest merchants around, the rich and desirable, the most beautiful people of the realm. The Silver Gate was a step below that. Hard working men and their families, the middle class that accumulated some wealth overthe years. And then there was the Bronze Gate. Known for the lesser people, with the hungry and poor that roamed the streets as they begged for survival.

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