Heroes of Veritas: Bardic Inspiration (Book 2)

The memorial held by the King and Queen of the Dynasty in the wake of the Second Desolation was a much more solemn affair than Prince Genofar’s tournament had been. While the Dynasty’s losses hadn’t been as catastrophic as they could have been, there was not one person in the city or its surrounding villages who didn’t know someone that died. So it was that when the palace opened its vast gardens to the public, the people gathered en masse, filling the space with the sort of palpable silence that the Dire Beavers had come to know all too well. It was a silence that filled the Dam of Iniquity as the guild hall lay hollow and empty in the evenings, devoid of the activity of the daylight hours. A silence that, for the past two weeks, had been breached only by hushed, hesitant words, or the broken sobs of a man who could no longer bear up under the pretense of stoicism. There were no grand speeches at this memorial; those had already come and gone, given from the palace’s grand balcony in the days immediately following the death of the dragon. Proclamations had been given, heroes named, and medals doled out - though there were a notable few who refused to accept their rewards. Among this rarefied set was a ranger that, by all rights, had earned her title and her rewards - though she would most likely never believe that herself.  Elise of the Dire Beavers, the Hero of Veritasia City, hesitated at the entrance to the palace gardens. She was dressed in a black uniform that she’d only worn once before, a large leather case held low at her side. Had anyone she knew taken note of her, they would have remarked right away at her distinct lack of bow, quiver, or utility fanny pack - especially the last item, as she never went anywhere without it. As it was, she took in a deep breath, and continued unnoticed, striking out into the sea of humanity before her. By the time the ranger had tracked down her quarry the sun had already sunk low into the sky, coloring the twilight clouds in soothing shades of indigo and violet dotted with bright highlights of orange. Here she hesitated again, standing just outside the circle of the gathered Dire Beavers’ field of view. For a few breathless moments she swayed gently with the flow of mourners that were moving past her, and considered turning away. Then, her fist tightened around the handle of the case she held, and she strode forward. It was Ichigo who saw her first. He’d been in the midst of lighting one of the guildie’s lanterns, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose, when he caught sight of an all too familiar shadow flutter past. He pushed the lantern into the bewildered guild member’s hands and sputtered an apology before hastening off to chase after the retreating sight of the red and gold dire beaver crest that was emblazoned on the back of the ranger’s half cape. “Elise!” the catton cleric called after the elusive ranger. He was relieved when she stopped and turned, and that feeling only grew when she gave him one of her warm smiles. “Ichigo.” she said softly, ignoring the guildies who had turned at the mention of her name.  The ranger couldn’t bear to see either the adoration or the sadness in their eyes when they looked at her. She could barely stand seeing them in Ichigo’s eyes, though he averted his gaze as soon as she looked up at him and smiled. “Ah ha...Elise...I...I’m so sor-” Ichigo began, freezing when he felt her hand on his chest. She picked up the glasses that hung there, having fallen off his nose and been caught by the chain. She slid them back onto his face, then slid her arms around him, drawing into a hug. “I’m the sorry one.” she said, her voice slightly muffled against the cloth of his black robes. “And my friends should call me Ellie.” The catton stood stock still for a long moment before reaching an arm around to pat his friend on the back of her shoulder. She released him a few seconds later, and Ichigo watched in stunned silence as she made her way toward a small seating area.  It was only then that he noticed the large black leather case she was toting. The seating area was largely unoccupied, as most of the guild had gotten to their feet to light the red lanterns that were going to be released in just a few minutes, once the sun had fully set. This was an Erestellan funeral rite that had been co-opted from an earlier tradition belonging to the Old Gods, marking the ascension of the souls of the dead to the heavens above. The only one still sitting was Moltar, who was hunched in a chair looking as miserable as everyone felt. He looked up as Elise shifted a chair around, turning it so that she could sit facing the oathbreaker. She settled onto the armless chair, and set the case across her lap. With an audible click, she snapped the latches of the case open. What emerged from the velvety red interior of the case was a beautiful stringed instrument, whose wood was stained a familiar mossy green and intricately inlaid with white mother of pearl jasmine flowers. Wrapped into the curved end of the guitar’s neck was a moon bright stone. “What are you doing…?” Moltar rasped, sounding more curious than threatening. “Sharing.” Elise said simply, as she set the case on the ground by her chair. Moltar swallowed, looking oddly nervous as she strummed a gentle cord, tilted her head, and adjusted a peg. “Pita thought everyone had a special talent.” Elise said, smiling faintly down at the guitar. “He told me he'd figure mine out. It’s just too bad he didn’t get to feel the satisfaction of knowing he guessed right.” “It’s time, everyone.” a strong, gravelly voice called over the hushed crowd. Elise shivered a little at the familiar sound, which continued, “On three, everyone.” “One, two...three…” Astredian called, letting out a soft sigh as he released his own lantern. It rose slowly into the air with the rest, lighting up the sky as a gentle melody began playing from somewhere off to his left.  There were a few gasps from the crowd, which shifted closer to the sound. A hush fell over the guildies as a lilting voice rose, singing tenderly into the still early evening air. “Won’t you visit my fire when I’m lonely, Let your spirit come rest by side, Though I know you are now with the Goddess, I just wish you were here for the night...” The melody sounded simple, almost unrefined to his cultured ear; the kind of song you might hear played at an evening campfire by an idle traveller. The she light and gentle way she played it, and the smooth quality of her voice, leant the song a graceful air it would not have had in the hands of a less practiced musician. Astredian was drawn closer as well, the guildies parting for him as he approached. He thought he knew, before he saw her, who the singer was - though her singing voice was breathy, and colored by a huskiness that her speaking voice was not. As Elise continued playing, the melody changed, blending easily into a medley with the chorus, which was borrowed from a song Astredian was familiar with - a romantic ballad he’d heard countless times. One which his mother had been especially fond of after his father’s passing. “Please don’t wake me from this dream, Cause only when I dream now can we meet, When I am not awake you live in me, And share the air that I breathe, When I’m asleep...” “Elise…?” Astredian asked softly, his voice catching in his throat as the ranger’s fingers stuttered on the strings. The song broke to pieces as the ranger’s fingers slipped from the strings in a jumble of tangled notes. A sob came next, and Elise was surprised to find it had not come from herself, but from Moltar - who had tears streaming down his face. She wasn’t sure what her plan had been; she hadn’t played in years, and had always struggled playing in front of others. It had been all right starting out; she’d pretended it was just her and Moltar. But now that she knew there was a crowd watching, she found that her mouth had gone dry, and her fingers felt stubby and numb. Elise’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as the sound of the guitar began to fade.