On the porch of one of the city's numerous taverns, Quill sat with his feet up on the railing an his hands behind his head. Presently, he sung one of the few Silvercliff tales he'd picked up from bards outside of the city. Were he in a more mischievous mood, he might have instead sung an Al Zidoan hymn and see what sort of ruckus he could stir up. But then, the tavern catered mostly to Li Lian transients anyway, so he wouldn't have much luck. 

He glanced down and saw a few coins had been tossed into his upturned hat. Charity was one of the things the city had going for it, all of the noble folk held onto their spare coin like a child would their greens. If he put effort into his songs and jests, Quill rarely had to worry about paying for a place to stay out of his own pocket. However, upon a second look, he saw that coins were not the only thing filling the cap, but amidst them as well was a small piece of parchment. Sitting up, he saw the figure of a page scurrying away, and figured the boy was in enough of a hurry to warrant not presenting whatever he needed to. 

The letter was plain enough, more than likely a spare ready for such instances, but the message itself was far more interesting. Sir Edward himself requesting a gathering of knights? And the man had seen fit to list his name among them? Oh, happy day indeed! Quill all but sprung from his seat, a flurry of giggles as he emptied the coins in his hat onto the ground and plopped it upon his head. The Arcane Bastion was impossible to miss, and he made quick work of navigating the streets up to its grand base. He'd never met any others of the Order, or rather, the ones he'd met had been in passing, and either wrote him off as a jester, or simply never interacted. It was a pity, really, of all the patiences in Sophitia, he was so tempted to try the knights'.

So Quill resigned to wait for a while outside of the bastion, to sit down upon its great steps and sing once again. Beneath its sanctuary he felt free to sing just about any of the melodies he could remember, and given the amount of time he still had to pass, he ran through quite a few. From tundra cantors and mockeries of the Li Lian beast folk, to ballads of past Silvercliff kings and a few hushed blasphemes from the deeper crypts in Al Zidoa. So much history, all so intricate and elegant, all of the heroes and fools that filled stories upon stories. How quaint, he thought. How quaint.

And he waited.