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"-and he called her name in the wind. Storm and sea called to him, in answer from his love, 'oh dearest one, I beg of you take leave.' But his anguish he could not stave, and the fool he dug his own grave! A thousand men died on that day, battered by wind-breaking waves.
Take unto you, that which you can, but leave all behind that might sink you. 'I shan't leave behind my dear love,' so think you? Then remember my friends, that horrible end, on the black-bloody seas of Giltaris!"
Fiers played the ending chord of The Grave of Giltaris on his lute and it rang sonorously through the room in the Slaughtered Elk Inn. Few patrons occupied the seats, however a handful of occupants were consuming their breakfast, and paused sufficiently to nod, or even give him a quiet hand of applause. A fair reaction, Fiers supposed, given that it was early morning, and none of these folks had any drink in them.
The bard shifted in his seat on a high stool, and adjusted his lute's tuning a quarter twist, trying a chord, before twisting another quarter inch, and repeating the process. The sun was leaking in through the windows, and Fiers knew that their contract was soon to begin. That said, his lute needed tuning, and...
There! She came out from behind the kitchen doors, hefting a large platter of steaming foodstuffs, the morning light catching the crimson colours in her hair. Fiers suspected this woman was the daughter of the inn's proprietor, but he couldn't stop himself from ogling. Even if she was, he'd still find himself perusing her every curve and flowing line that could be traced along her elegant form. She reminded him of a fae maiden from the story's, so graceful, and with a bosom like that of a goddess, and even her face held his attention far longer than most. She had the most plump lips, fit for kissing, and a daftly long nose which rather than disassembling her overall beauty tended to grant it a fine frame, from which she could quite effectively send flirtatious looks with those sea-blue eyes of hers-
Shit. She's staring back at me. I'd better tune my lute some more. Without breaking their gaze, he twisted the strings, plucked, and the string squeaked like a dying mouse. The girl raised a hand to her mouth, giggling softly. She'd delivered the food and continued to watch him intently. Fiers found he couldn't look away, and he was grinning despite himself.
"Well, are you going to stay over there all morning, or are you going to come here and give us a kiss?" Fiers realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud, as he often did. It was a bad habit of his, but he seemed to be incurable. Incorrigible. Both? Neither? In any event, she was crossing the room towards him. Fiers imagined he'd be getting one of two things quite promptly, and wondered whether to lick his lips or tense his cheek.
"Pretty song you sang. Sad though."
"A song for departing, and leave-taking, and fond farewells to a world that is kinder and more luminous in its dark places, than can be said of even the brightest spot in the places I'll be headed, beautiful girl."
She kissed him then, and it was a fine lip-locking, by Fiers' mark. She had all the makings of a great kisser, and he'd remember to let her father know, once they were safely unmoored aboard the ship, and the innkeep had let go of any objects that might be thrown from the docks. For Fiers' part, he let one of his long thin fingers trail a path up and down her neck, absent-mindedly tracing out Giltaris as he gave her one of his better farewells. That elicited a low purr from her, and Fiers regretted his choice, for once, to not be a towering man-whore the night before a voyage. They broke, and he nodded courteously, gathering up his pack, lute, and other kitsch.
"Are you Giltaris then?" She asked, all doe-eyed and shaky.
"You are joking aren't you? Giltaris was a damned fool. No, with luck, I'll be the son of a whore who kills him and steals his woman." Fiers regarded her with a signature impish leer, and chuckled.
"You didn't sing about that part," the girl murmured, her expression slightly less dreamy.
"The ending can be inferred, but it's true I didn't sing that part. I actually stole Giltaris' woman out from under him, while the naval battle was at its hottest. What kind of daft fool leaves the love of his life unattended and wearing lace stockings?" Fiers winked, and hoisted his pack, turning on his heel and exiting the inn with a song stuck in his head. The girl was left to gape at his departing back, wondering if the bard had been entirely serious. As Fiers stepped out onto the path, a harried-looking courier rushed past and into the inn. Fiers kept on humming and made his leisurely way to the market, still a while yet before the crew would be ready, and he supposed they might even forget about him, and that might not be an abysmal occurrence.
He doubted that the innkeep had heard of The Grave of Giltaris.
Fiers was halfway through composing The Doe's Disappearance at the Slaughter when he finished his last-minute shopping in the market, and made his way, arms full of supplies towards the docks. He'd picked up refreshed supplies for his disguise kit, extra rations, a third outfit -which was reversible- to add to his wardrobe, a flask of whiskey, and to cap off the last of his spending money, he had purchased two spare sets of strings for each of his instruments. In a pinch, Fiers had enough practical knowledge such that he could, given enough time and the necessary tools, sculpt and or fashion the bodies for both his lute and lyre, however strings were much harder to come by in the wildlands than suitable materials for the bodies of those instruments. He had almost purchased two more sets, but decided that if things were dire enough or unfortunate enough that six sets of strings didn't see him through, they were probably fucked.
The time it took to get to the docks was enough to get three quarters finished with The Doe's Disappearance, but when he arrived he was disappointed to see that the Sea-Stalker was still moored, looking almost as though it would never leave port. Rather than try to lag behind in a childish manner, to draw out his steps as long as possible, Fiers did the mature thing.
Fiers darted into a full-on sprint, adopting a farm-woman-like shriek of terror. His scream carried over to the Sea-Stalker with his trained resonance, and in gruesome accompaniment, as Fiers ran he screamed, "THEY'RE RAIDING VELOR, THE PIRATES ARE COMING! THE PIRATES ARE COMING!!!"
Upon finally reaching the specific dock that harboured the Virtuous Company's mode of transport, Fiers giggled happily amid what he had hoped would be a cacophonous panic. If only for a few moments, these sailors would be shitting themselves, before realizing that the cry of 'Pirates!' had come from a man running out to them from the mainland. Wouldn't they just feel dense as diamond when that realization hit them? It was enough to make Fiers almost choke up with laughter.
To the innkeep, who'd somehow beat him to the docks, and the other upper members of the Virtuous Company whom had arrived, Fiers said, "Now, where's the person in charge of this venture? So I can go give him a firm boot in the arse for allowing mayhem and chaos to spread through the ranks?"
