Chapter 2208: The Poet and the Knight (1w1)_2
Chapter 2208: The Poet and the Knight (1w1)_2
"That was truly thrilling, Old Ironhead, wasn’t my swordplay great? I saved the other half of your brain from those Crystal Insectoids!"
"Oh, get off it, One-Eye, I was up front covering for you!"
"Cheers, cheers, let’s not talk about that! Here’s to all of us making it back in one piece and successfully completing the mission!"
"Yeah, we stand to make several tens of thousands of Suen (Gantreignum currency, one and a half times a Talle) each, worth a toast for sure!"
Six adventurers, differing in appearance, race, and even the completeness of their limbs, were raising their glasses and drinking heartily, dispelling the gloomy winter atmosphere.
A team so uniquely composed—an Elven Mechanic from Canaan Moore, a Dwarf Bowyer from Gantreignum, an Ironfolk Puppeteer from Yanjiang, a Tiger-man Psychokineticist from Azure Sky Royal Court, a Golden Folk wanderer from The Empire, and heavily armored Descendants of the Sea from Far Shore Island—might attract attention elsewhere. Still, such diversity isn’t uncommon in the labyrinth exploration industry.
After all, those who leave their homeland to explore perilous labyrinths are generally quite different from their kin—simply put, they must be crazy.
"Cheers!"
As their glasses clinked, the other patrons in the tavern raised their glasses as well—it’s tradition to treat everyone to drinks if you celebrate a successful mission in a tavern, and the guests respond with a toast.
At the other end of the tavern, a white-haired, blue-eyed Ballad Poet was smiling, quickening the pace of his playing, smoothly transitioning the originally melodious folk tune from the Borsaca Region into an exciting quick-paced rhythm.
"When did that Ballad Poet arrive?"
After drinking and boasting, the Elven Mechanic in the group noticed the Ballad Poet’s excellent skills and was a bit surprised.
Despite his mechanical inclination and estrangement from his peers, he had enough artistic education to judge musical performance. He noticed the Ballad Poet’s music blended so naturally that while affecting their mood, it never struck them as intrusive—it was a seamless harmony that was remarkable upon reflection.
"No idea." But the other companions lacked such an artistic touch, some boasted loudly about their adventures or indulged heartily in food and drink. Only the Tiger-man Psychokineticist seemed to notice something: "That poet... seems to be a Spirit Energy User?"
"But not the combative kind, just the soothing energy that cheers people up."
"I see."
Understanding now, the Elven Mechanic thought, so it’s Spirit Energy. He had wondered how a musical master could appear in such a remote place.
Though it’s odd for a Spirit Energy User to become a Ballad Poet, the vastness of Terra holds many wonders—look at that Dwarf who became an archer!
The only question is, why would a Ballad Poet come to White Pigeon Town during winter when there’s the fewest people? Sure, adventurers here are generous, always rewarding after a successful mission, like himself, ready to tip the poet a few Suen. And judging by the gray-gold coins in the box beside him, he’s been earning quite well lately.
Still, it’s odd to come here now.
Thinking so, the Elf couldn’t help but glance at the White Folks Ballad Poet.
Though most of his face was hidden under a long pointed hat, even half a profile showed his striking appearance. His voice was clear and fluid, his occasional glimpses of blue eyes in the shadow confirmed his Spirit Energy ability.
Moreover, an icy-blue Original Fairy was fluttering on his shoulder, seemingly entranced by the poet’s songs—a rarity as these not fully evolved Little Fairies typically lack intelligence but are protected by the Fae. A Little Fairy following Humans is very uncommon.
And near the poet’s tall boots, was a small cat... or dog? Pure black like ink.
The Elf blinked, doubting his eyes. He just saw a cat, but it became a dog?
In an instant, the dog became a cat again. As he blinked, he saw the cat extend a black tentacle, grab a wandering Iron Beetle, and snap it back.
The crunch of the Iron Beetle being crushed was audible; it was clearly enjoying its meal.
He widened his eyes, and before he could be shocked, he noticed a tall, silent Knight Guardian in the shadow behind the poet—his build, stance, aura—even if unnoticed before, one could sense how imposing he was.
Turning back, the Elven Mechanic downed a large glass of wine, deciding to ignore what he had seen.
Don’t be fooled by the ragged adventurers in White Pigeon Town. Anyone active in the depths of the Ushetaraf Mountain Range is at least at the First Energy Level. Of course, a seemingly frail Spirit Energy Ballad Poet would have a guardian.