"The bardic profession is one that profused itself all over the world, as many youngsters with an artistic bent and wanderlust often went on to pursue their desires. Life as a wandering bard however, often dissuaded many from it pretty quickly, as to live mostly on the road and to make a living from your tales and songs often discouraged and dismayed those with lofty dreams. In the end, only those with a true passion for the craft would pursue the career to their later years, and these experienced bards, were usually warmly welcomed - often celebrated, even - by their patrons." - Garth Wainwrought, professor of socioeconomics at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning.

After the slightly harrowing encounter they had, Cal and her nieces went to a large longhouse where a sign that depicted a mug atop a bed hung before the door, an inn and a tavern in one building. They went in, booked a room for a week, then ordered some mugs of mead to sate their thirst.

She went and took her nieces on a trip around the city after that, as it was the largest city in Jötunberg and had much to offer travellers. They had lunch during their tour, some roasted skewers and sausages made of reindeer meat with local spices, somewhat chewy and gamy but the spices blended so well with the gaminess and produced a great flavor.

What really got her nieces excited though, was when Cal took them to a dog ranch, where they ranched and raised the breeds of hardy dogs used to pull sleds. It was also a popular tourist attraction in Eyjafjord, and the reason why was obvious.

Immediately after they were let in, Cal and her nieces were mobbed by a horde of painting, grinning, friendly dogs of all sizes, from the larger wolf-like dogs she saw the adventurers use to smaller versions of said dogs as well as the fluffy, long furred variant that had pulled their cart on the way here. They easily spent an hour playing and petting the docile dogs.

Whoever ran the tour on the dog ranch however, knew that one should hold back the trump card for the end. And even Cal almost squealed like her nieces when they were brought to a large barn-like building that housed hundreds of puppies. The little wide-eyed puppies cheerfully yipped and flocked to the newcomers and just melted the hearts of those that saw them.

When they headed back to their inn three hours later, both Elaina and Sidonie hugged a cute puppy each in their hands. Cal had allowed them to adopt some since Eyjafjord was their last destination before they went back to Paradise anyway, and that leg of the trip would be done via gate.

Since many people in Jötunberg also had pet dogs and carried them around as well, nobody gave the girls strange looks, and some even took the initiative and asked if they could pet the puppies while they walked.

When they entered the inn, it was already evening, and a crowd who were having dinner had formed. Also something that wasn't there when they left in the afternoon, was the presence of a bard who sat on a high chair and strummed her lute while she sang a cheerful folk song.

"Nice singing!" Yelled a tall, bulky, scarred man who sat at a table near the bard. The man had a plate of roasted ribs before him, and had a massive dog curled near his feet happily chomping on the bones he gave it. "Ye got any song about war as well?"

"Of course, patron, It will be my next song then," replied the bard.

Then she sang with a deep, haunting voice, that echoed inside the tavern and got all eyes - and ears - transfixed to her.

I see fields of blood~

Where the dead lay~

I've seen them die~

For king and land~

And I think to myself~

Why would one waste lives so~?

Where heads rolled by~

And guts astrewn~

Where brave men passed~

And cowards died~

And I think to myself~

How could one waste lives so~?

The promises of glory~

Of riches and standing~

Lured so many naive youngsters~

To spill their blood in vain~

I see men killing men~

Slaying all before them~

They're really killing~

Their own hearts~

And yet more would come~

To spill their blood~

In the name of~

King and country~

And I think to myself~

When would this nonsense end?

Yes, I think to myself~

War was just a cruel jest~

It was so silent in the tavern after the bard ended her song that you could have heard a pin drop. The silence prevailed for another few minutes, before the scarred man who had requested the song rose from his seat, and loudly clapped his hand.

"Bravo!" He said as he tossed a small pouch accurately into the bard's alms bowl. Others joined in the clapping and threw their own gestures of appreciation as coins clinked inside the bowl, while the scarred man tossed a larger pouch to the bar.

"Bartender, drinks are on me tonight!" He said to the cheers of all. Then he walked to the bard on stage and gave her a slight bow, and said with a low voice - though not low enough that Cal and her nieces missed it - to the bard. "Lady skald, my apologies if my request dredged up unpleasant memories. It is rare to find one who saw behind the pretty curtains we draped war with these days."

"Think nothing of it, patron, memories are to be cherished… both the good and the bad," replied the bard.

A rowdy party occupied the tavern that night as people feasted. Whole barrels of sweet meads and crisp ales were rolled out and drained as everyone ate and drank their fill happily.

Late in the night Cal was still up and drinking alone by her table, her nieces had already retired for the night after they stuffed themselves and would likely wake up with a hangover considering how much mead they consumed.

"May I sit here?" Asked a voice. Cal looked up from her drink and saw that it was the bard from before, and she gestured for her to have a seat.

"It was a good song, and too much of it true, but sometimes to fight and kill were the only options people have," said Cal with a faraway voice after the bard sat down. The song had made her reminisce of the war back home, and all the blood shed over those decades.

"That is true, and often it is people who had to get their hands dirty, it's why songs about heroes and vigilantes are so popular for us," replied the bard. The woman was unusual looking, with a pretty human-like face, but with fox ears growing atop her head. Cal dismissed it as likely some therian blood further down the line, as Fyodor had looked similar, although therian features were more noticeable in him. The bard's next words caught Cal somewhat off guard, however. "Wouldn't you say so, grand marshall Ambervale? Or do you prefer the moniker Blood Demon instead?"

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage then, since I don't even know your name," replied Cal. "Also I know there were stories around, but was I that easy to recognize?"

"Kino Aphelia Renard, wandering bard, at your service," said the bard as she introduced herself. "And to answer your question… well, white haired red eyed half elves aren't that common… but to tell the truth? Aideen had said quite a bit about you."

"No wonder, and here I thought I might need to be dying my hair for some anonymity or something."