Bard to the Bone

by Cid Banks

  Ramsay shrugged. “For the most part.”

  Dig deeper. “What do you mean?”

  His nose wrinkled. “Florian and his wife are hard to please, especially his wife. Countess Florian.” Venom rolled off his tongue. “What a handful.”

  “Tell me about it, man.” God, I sounded like a sycophant. “I know all about high-maintenance women.”

  Amy gasped with mock-outrage.

  The steward laughed, his pearly white teeth flashing. “She’s a beauty, that one. Is she your wife?”

  His gaze flicked to our ringless hands.

  “Er—no.” My smile faltered. “Angelique is my date.”

  “Well, I’m shocked.” Ramsay faced her with a broad grin. “A woman of your beauty should have dozens of suitors.”

  “Oh, stop.” Amy slipped her hand from mine to give the steward her full and undivided attention. “I’m looking for the right guy.”

  Amy was a spunky fighter in the resistance. I doubted she’d be happy waiting on a man hand and foot. She was pretending for the key, but it boiled my blood.

  Watching him touch her was even worse.

  “Please. Call me Ramsay.” He twirled a lock of her hair. “May I have this dance?”

  That weasel.

  “Sure!” Smiling, Amy took his outstretched hand. I bristled as Ramsay grabbed her waist and led her, with a lot more grace than I had, into a sweeping waltz. That goddamned snake. I hoped she’d eat him alive. They danced for the entire song, heads bent close together. They looked deep in conversation. She laughed at something he said.

  I tore my gaze from the infuriating sight. I wasn’t gaining anything by watching them, so I left the dance floor. The Count was our second possibility of winning the key. He wouldn’t be hard to find.

  Count Florian, it transpired, had a thing for sweets. He sat surrounded by trays of food, ignoring everyone who talked to him. A glance at his character page told me his traits: Greedy and Cowardly.

  Should I threaten him?

  That was a terrible idea. He had guards all around. One word from him, and I’d be thrown out. Perhaps I could appeal to his greed.

  How?

  What could a man who lived in a place like this possibly want?

  I racked my brains for rich people I’d known in my life. There was the girl from high school, Kate, who lived in the Berkeley Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn. She was the only girl I knew with a Gucci backpack. Kids at my school had never seen anything like her. For months, she ate alone in the cafeteria. I shook my head at that memory. Kate had nothing in common with an NPC programmed to be a rich asshole.

  And what did rich assholes want? Even more money.

  I approached him with a swagger, channeling the East Coast WASPs from the Atlantic Country Club where I used to wait tables. “Count Florian. It is an honor.” I seized his hand when he released his pint of beer. “I am the Count of Gray Poupon.”

  “Charmed,” he croaked. “What do you want?”

  I inhaled a deep breath. “To discuss a business proposition.”

  “At my wife’s party? No, thank you.” Count Florian’s attention snapped back to his opera cake.

  I sat next to him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I could tell he was more intrigued than angry. “Smart men like ourselves know never to let amazing business opportunities pass us by, no matter how much wealth we accumulate. Let me tell you about Potent Potions. Begging your Lordship’s pardon, but this is a potency potion. It—ah—increases your prowess in the bedroom.”

  Count Florian flushed angrily. “Why would I need that?”

  “You wouldn’t, of course, but most men will. Name me a man who wouldn’t think of taking it at least once?” I watched him take the bottle as excitement widened his face. “This is the hottest supplement—potion—on the market right now.”

  “At the marketplace?”

  “No, no.” I laughed. “At the finest auction houses. Young noblemen buy it by the barrel.”

  “Sad.” He grimaced. “Tell me more.”

  “I’ve made business arrangements with three other honored guests. I would be flattered to count you as a member of our partnership.”

  “How exactly does it work?”

  I had him. “Well, I sell you a large quantity of potions. You’ll sell them to your friends and keep all the profit.”

  “Isn’t that hard?”

  “For a man like you?” I grinned. “All you’d have to do is throw a few of these parties. You profit from the commissions. You’ll get your friends to sell potions and receive a percentage of every sale they make. And they’ll sign up their friends. All their money trickles down to you!” Like a pyramid, I almost added.

  Count Florian rubbed his hands together, laughing. “Sounds like a great opportunity.”

  “It is.”

  Persuasion Successful!

  “All right.” He shook my hand. “I’m in.”

  Awesome.

  I’d sold an NPC a fake multi-level marketing scheme. Now what?

  I checked his character menu, noticing that our relationship had changed from Wary to Friendly. I was drunk on the power I had over this man. Now that our relationship was closer, I should be able to ask more probing questions.

  “So, how’s your wife?”

  “Killing me with her incessant demands for extravagance. Do you know, she sent back the earrings I got her? She said the diamonds were too small.” He rolled his eyes. “Only one mine in the whole world!”

  “She sounds…tough.” This was taking too long. I needed to pick up the pace. “And expensive.”

  “Yes. You don’t want to know how much this party cost me.”

  “Honestly, your problem has a straightforward solution. Take away her key to the treasury.”

  Count Florian froze, drink hovering near his mouth. “How do you know she has a key?”

  Shit. “Lucky guess.”

  Persuasion Failed!

  His gaze narrowed even further. “That’s the most pathetic lie I’ve ever heard.”

  “Sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Begone.” Count Florian dived into his opera cake, grumbling. “I do not abide liars.”

  I scanned his character menu. Count Florian was back to being Wary.

  Damn it. “Count, tell me more about your wife.”

  “You have stolen enough of my time, Count Poupon. Leave me in peace before I have you escorted from the premises!”

  Frustration stabbed my chest as I stood, turning my back on Count Florian. I hoped to hell Amy was finding more success. I circled the keep, returning to the dance floor, searching for Amy’s vibrant, red hair. The orchestra was in full swing, but Amy wasn’t among the couples dancing.

  Then where was she?

  I didn’t look for very long. I found her standing under the chandelier with her arms crossed. She looked pissed, which didn’t bode well.

  “Amy, there you are!” I frowned at her sheepish smile. “What’s wrong?”

  “I screwed up with the steward.” Amy rolled her eyes as a drunkard pelted the orchestra with hors-d’oeuvres. “I was this close until I mentioned the key, and then he freaked out.”

  “The same thing happened to me. I met the Count.”

  “You what?”

  I sighed. “We were getting friendly. I mentioned the key, and he completely shut down.”

  “So we’re down to the last person. Great.”

  “Maybe—maybe we need to work harder at getting them to like us.” The Countess was our last shot at winning the key. “Let’s find her and come up with a plan.”

  “Okay.”

  “You crooked-nose knaves!” A nobleman stumbled into the orchestra. “Your music is dreadful!”

  The man was attracting unpleasant stares, but he continued in a loud, carrying voice. “Play that churlish tune somewhere else. I bet anyone here could do better—I bet—hey!” His jacket flew open, revealin
g an unsightly beer belly. “Hey, you!”

  “Let’s get away from the drunken idiot.” I took her hand. “Shit.”

  “No, no, no! Wait!” The drunk elbowed between us, staring at me cross-eyed. “Bard. Play us a song.”

  Quest Available: Taking Requests

  Liven up the party with a tune.

  Reward: Improved relationship with listeners.

  Was worth a shot. “Fine.”

  “Yes!” He dragged me to the stage. “Pick something lively!”

  I glanced at the cellist and violinist. “Can you play whatever I want?”

  “Certainly.”

  There was only one artist guaranteed to put everybody on the dance floor. Michael Jackson.

  “We’re going to play Thriller by Michael Jackson.” I grabbed my lute from the inventory and tucked it under my chin. “Got that?”

  “What?”

  “Just follow my lead.”

  The violinist nodded. “What key?”

  “Er—dunno. Here we go.”

  I plucked the lute’s strings, mimicking the first bars of the melancholy beat. Then the bassist joined in, taking over. The flutists picked up the melody of the lyrics. My voice rang into the crowd of people, who bobbed their heads.

  As the violins swelled into a crescendo, I belted out the chorus. I never could’ve reached Jackson’s high notes in real life, but in this game I was legendary. There was nothing I couldn’t sing.

  A frenzied dance broke out on the marble floor. Men lifted their partners in the air. Magnified, my singing shook the walls. The music swept into every corner, forcing people to dance. A soprano note burst from my throat without becoming shrill.

  By the end of it, guests were mobbing the stage. They climbed next to me and screamed the chorus. As the last lyric faded from the hall, the crowd erupted into cheers.

  “Well done!” A woman stood apart from the crowd, clapping. “What a delicious performance.”

  Her outfit looked complicated. Her delicate, gold-leaf dress wrapped around her like tissue. Blue embroidery stitched a floral pattern into the dress. A golden broach sat at the base of her neck. She wore eyelash extensions speckled with sapphires and smiled through plump, bright red lips. Her dark hair swept upward into a vase-like structure overflowing with flowers, silk butterflies, and jeweled beetles.

  Too much going on. She wasn’t ugly, but she was far from my type.

  Countess Brigande Florian

  Level 3 Noblewoman

  Feudal Rank 2 Countess Consort

  HP: 17/17

  Traits: Greedy, Proud, Drunkard

  Relationship: Flirtatious

  “Come.” She offered her hand. “Dance with me.”

  That was more than a command from the hostess of the party. It was a veiled threat. Her fierce gaze told me that if I humiliated her, I would pay.

  Luckily for us both, I needed that damn key. I took her hand.

  “Countess, I object. This man doesn’t belong at your side.” A slick man dressed in purple satin stepped from the crowd. “I do.”

  The countess giggled. “Oh?”

  “I saw him dance earlier, if you could call it that.” His mustache bristled in a sneer. “Bard, I challenge you to a duel. Beat me for the privilege of dancing with the beautiful Countess.”

  That escalated quickly.

  [Unknown]

  Level 5 Nobleman Bard

  HP: 21/21

  Traits: Proud, Lustful, Wrathful

  Relationship: Rivalry

  Another bard?

  The nobleman unclasped his cloak, letting it hang from one side. A mahogany violin materialized in his hands. He performed a little ditty with the bow. People oohed and ahhed.

  A musical battle challenge. Interesting.

  Over their heads, I spotted Amy. She stood on tiptoes to watch and caught my gaze. “Good luck,” she mouthed.

  I was ready to rock.

  The bard was two levels above me. If I wanted to beat him, I’d need a better strategy than playing Michael Jackson.

  I considered the songs available. Song of Mocking would lower his willpower and charisma, but it also would reduce everyone’s opinion of me. I couldn’t risk offending the countess. I couldn’t see how seducing him would help me, so I played Song of Spirit.

  Grabbing my lute, I strummed We Are the Champions by Queen and sang the chorus to deafening applause. An electric current zapped through my spine as I sang the Song of Spirit. The rock anthem blasted aside the bard’s pitiful folk song.

  His face burned. “What kind of music is that?”

  Icons floated in my vision, indicating my boosted stats. I shouted Freddie Mercury’s lyrics. The sound wave seemed to travel through the floor, up the bard’s leg, dislodging his grip. His arm went wide. The bow made an ungodly shriek over the violin’s strings, and spectators screamed.

  “What the hell?” The bard regained his footing, snarling.

  I laughed at him. “You got rocked, fool. Get some.”

  Furious, he whipped back and forth. Eerie music filled the air, draining the warmth from my body. As the dreadful song played, a chill stole the heat from the room and guttered candles on the chandelier. The coldness enveloped me. It was inside my stomach—my heart.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I was not a rock god. I couldn’t understand music theory, for Christ’s sake. Like an idiot, I thought I could redeem myself in a fake world because I couldn’t hack in the real one. Couldn’t hold down a job. Couldn’t even get a girl.

  The energy sapped from my limbs.

  I wanted to go home and dive under a thick blanket.

  “James!” Amy bellowed. “Snap out of it!”

  Dimly, I became aware of the roaring crowd. A cold sweat broke over my forehead. I wiped the sweat with the back of my shaking hand.

  What was wrong with me?

  A music note hovered over the enemy bard’s head. The bastard was playing the Song of Sorrow.

  “Don’t listen to him! You can do this.” Amy fought her way to the front of the stage, cupping her mouth. “You’re amazing!”

  She was right. I needed to get a grip and fight.

  I strummed a random chord from Bad to the Bone, breaking the melancholy tune. Our songs clashed. Amy’s triumphant yell filled me with courage. The bard stumbled back from the blast of my voice.

  “Are you ready, bard?” I switched to glam rock, fingers flying over the strings. “Let’s go!”

  The opening lyric to Ballroom Blitz shook the dance floor. Lights from the chandelier burned brighter. The seventies classic was too powerful for the lute’s wooden body. It glowed with a warmth that pulsed with the heavy rock beats, my Song of Spirit chasing out the chill from the bard’s lethargic song. It was like stepping into a warm bath. People clapped.

  The bard attempted to cut in with a dark melody, but the countess waved her hands.

  “Enough! I’ve decided the winner.” Her sultry eyes locked on mine as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “You were wonderful.”

  “Er—thanks.” I wished Amy was pressing her body into mine. “Would you like to dance?”

  The bard’s bow wavered before he slumped in defeat. I watched him retreat without a backward glance. Amy was nowhere to be found.

  “No,” she breathed into my neck. “I want you. Now.”

  Whoa.

  I almost dropped the lute as she dragged me from the stage. She pulled me behind a fluttering tapestry, through a secret door, and into a deserted hallway.

  Her strange eyes glittered with a mad frenzy. “I’ve never had two men fight over me. It was…incredible.”

  Fighting over her? That was stretching the truth.

  I checked our relationship status: Enamored. “I’d do anything for you.”

  “You bold devil.” Her hands slid up my chest, sliding under my shirt to graze my pecs. “You brought that man to his knees. And in spitting distance of my husband. Fear not, he’ll never know.”

  S
he unbuttoned my shirt. This was escalating quickly. Her other hand strayed dangerously close to my belt. Grimacing, I swept her wrists in my hand and pinned her against the wall.

  “Er—darling. Shouldn’t we get back to the party?”

  Her eyebrows narrowed. “Are you saying you don’t want me?”

  “Of course I do,” I blurted. “I wouldn’t want to do anything untoward.”

  “I need a real man. Someone like you.” She broke free and grabbed my codpiece. “My husband is impotent, you know. I’ve waited years for a baby. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’ll give me an heir.”

  No way.

  I had no desire to cuck the count. “As my lady commands.”

  She grinned. “Take off your clothes.”

  A smirk staggered across her face as she slipped her dress over her shoulders. She tugged the hem so that her cleavage bulged. Between them, I glimpsed a hint of gold.

  The key!

  My mouth went dry. She had a nice rack, and normally I’d be thrilled to retrieve something from a woman’s boobs. But she was a little scary.

  Grab it and run.

  I slipped my hand in between her boobs. She moaned.

  “That felt amazing,” the countess moaned. “Take me!”

  I grabbed the key. “I will absolutely do that.”

  Teleport.

  An instant later I stood next to the door.

  Eleven

  That was close. I’d almost gotten roped into knocking up my first NPC.

  I’d escaped the countess, but she wouldn’t stay hidden very long. Women like her didn’t react well to rejection. A female scream of outrage erupted from the hidden door, which I’d just closed.

  Where the hell was Amy?

  I dove into the crowd of laughing guests, searching for her red gown. “Amy?”

  The countess’ magnified roar shook the ceiling. “Where is he?”

  Countess Florian emerged from the tapestry. Her eagle-like gaze raked the crowd of dancers. She shoved a woman aside, slipping on her dress in her haste. “Bard, come back here!”

  Shit.

  The countess had every right to be pissed. She’d begged me to sleep with her, and I did the equivalent of honking her tits and running. This was unfamiliar territory. Women didn’t bare their breasts and beg me to take them.