The line into the city gates shuffled forward and finally the guard who was checking papers and stamping them for entry came into view. The torrential downpour that had started shortly before sun down and the dim light of the sputtering torches fighting to keep lit made it impossible for me to see much more than hazy glimpses of a battle hardened guard looking to the person they were processing then back out over the lengthy procession waiting to get in with a bleak expression. His chances of a break or a meal any time soon were pretty grim, it seemed like I was by far not the only one waiting for the last minute to arrive in the city for the royal wedding.

The kingdom of Montagne Blanche had one heir to the throne and thus had always been protected and treated to the very best life had to offer. In that same fashion, no expense was being spared for his upcoming wedding. By the drenched, but colorful outfits and bulky, strangely shaped sacks and bags in line with me I guessed that practically anyone with any musical talent of any merit had been hired from the surrounding lands. Judging by my own estimation that I was probably only as good as the average fiddle player, the crown was dropping a ridiculous amount of coin on the entertainment. After a very brief audition before a very bored looking royal representative who organized en masse auditions in the town square, a contract had been thrust into my hands to sign offering me ten gold pieces a day for three days worth of work.

I had been settled quite comfortably into an inn about a hundred odd miles away from the capital and was enjoying somewhat of a tenured stay where I had reached an agreement with the innkeeper that as long as I kept drawing in and entertaining patrons I could stay for half-price a night and he would look the other way on charging me for refills on my ale. It had been a cozy arrangement, but not necessarily profitable in the sense that I usually barely did better than break even. That meant not much had been stored in my pouch as savings and it was going to take a good while to get enough to be able to live comfortably in a proper home. There was money to be made as a traveling bard, quite a bit of it if you were particularly good, but not only was I only a decent musician, but the idea of constantly traveling and hopping from town to town made me feel miserable. I know it sounded ridiculous to be a musician who wanted to grow roots, but as much as I loved music, I also loved the idea of coming back to a stable home with a cozy fire at the end of every day. It was a ridiculous wish unless I was able to lure some rich heir to the family fortune into marrying me and thus far I had only been able to convince some of them into my bed, and all quickly left the morning after.

“I’m going to have to set my reeds out to dry before the fire and hope they get reasonably dry in time to perform,” Mable muttered. She poured out the water that had collected in the small bag at her waist for dramatic effect. “You would think that they would have anticipated this many people wanting entry at once since they bloody hired them all.”

I had met Mable on the walk to the town and we had become fast friends despite the fact that she seemed to be one of the traveling bard types. She had the kind of face that would make her successful no matter where she went and men showed up more often than not to ogle the pretty girl wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece of her instrument than they cared about what sounds she was able to produce. Long red hair done up in intricate braids cascaded to her shapely hips and brilliant verdant eyes peered out from being thick lashes. Any man that we had encountered on our way into the capital had done a double and triple take, then had to pick his jaw up off the ground at the sight of her. A woman of lesser morals might have picked up any random instrument and only pretended to know what they were doing to rake in massive tips, in both senses of the term. Despite that fact, we had compared abilities with our favorite tunes one night out of boredom and I had quickly regretted coming up with the idea. I hadn’t asked, but I was pretty certain she was being paid more than my offer of ten gold a day. If I had a fraction of her looks and talents I would have long ago been lounging by the fire at some rich family’s manner.

“I’m sure they had to save money somewhere during all this,” I suggested, “at this rate they’re going to bankrupt the kingdom on musicians alone.”

She snorted through her nose and wiped the water collecting along the top hem of her hood away from her face before it could drip. “You sincerely underestimate just how much money this kingdom has then, they can easily afford this. Besides, with only one kid to worry about, it's not like there are many other royal weddings on the horizon.”

“Isn’t the king a widower?” I asked as the line scrunched forward again.

“Like anyone else is going to marry him in the shadow of his late wife,” she answered with another snort as the rain managed to find a sneaky way into her nostrils. “Even if they were bold enough to think she could follow those footsteps, I’m certain her family line would make sure they met a knife in the back fairly quickly.”

“If you say so,” I said with a shrug, “I don’t think I really remember much about her.”

Mable turned to face me, her feet barely leaving the ground to avoid splashing up muddy water onto either of us. Her eyebrow raised in a questioning fashion and she looked me up and down like she was trying to guess if I was pulling her leg or not.

“How could you not? Did you not grow up in this kingdom?”

“I just don’t,” I answered with an awkward laugh. “History and academia were never really my strong suit or I wouldn’t be a musician.”

“Oh come one, you can’t be one of those tired tropes of a bard who slid into the music scene because it was the one thing you were good at so you just went with it.”

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and fiddled with the clasp on my fiddle’s case while avoiding her judgemental gaze. I was saved further embarrassment by the large group that had been standing between Mable and I suddenly broke out into grumbles and stomping feet.

“Sorry folks,” the voice of the gate guard rang out over the constant patter of the rain, “but the decision is out of my hands. The inns are nearly full to capacity so anyone not possessing a green, blue, or purple seal on their contract or proof of citizenship within the capital is not going to be allowed entry tonight!”

Fearing the worst, I dug into the inside of my cloak, searching for the pocket that held my contract. I was relieved to find it both dry and bearing a green seal. Mable pulled out her own contract and unsurprising to me, I could make out a flash of blue as she folded it back for safe keeping.

“Guess we’re both good enough,” I commented with immense relief.

Not only did we not have to go stomping back through the now muddy roads to a nearby town to hopefully find a spare room for the night, but we were next in line. It seemed like the large crowds of low-level entertainers were clogging the system and probably more disposable if they did not end up getting into the city in time. It made sense that they had been rushing to get in as soon as possible, they were more desperate for coin and the potential to get recognition to further their careers. There was always a remote, but still present possibility that a royal or other high ranking member of society might take a special shine to your playing or singing and offer to pay you regularly to entertain their parties or even house you at their estate as live in entertainment. I wasn’t sure what I would ever say to that kind of offer in the off chance it ever came up, I rather liked being in complete control of my day to day life.

“Names?” the gate guard asked as pleasantly as he could manage for someone who looked as stressed as he was.

The guard had at some point in his career met the wrong end of a sword with a large scar running from the bottom of his chin down the left side of his neck and it disappeared underneath his uniform as it looked like it might have gone all the way down his chest as well. I had no idea how someone would even be able to survive such a wound, even with trained healers at the ready. At least it seemed he had been repaid with perhaps the safest position in the King’s army, though it did mean having to deal with the nonsense of bureaucracy.

“Mable Tarson,” Mable answered, handing him her contract and holding up her instrument case as further proof.

“Rose Vinewood,” I echoed, producing my own contract from my cloak pocket and handing it to him.

His bushy eyebrow raised at my name and his eyes flicked from my contract to the fiddle-shaped case at my side. I already knew what he was going to comment on, I had heard it a million and one times, but I wanted to be on the good side of someone deciding whether I was going to be let in the city so I could get paid so I was going to pretend he was the first ever to notice.

“Vinewood?” he asked rhetorically, “the only Vinewoods I’ve ever met were druids.”

“Oh really? Well now you’ve met one that isn’t,” I said with a smile that I hoped wasn’t coming off as strained as I felt it might be. “Sometimes a girl decides the comforts of civilization are a bit more enticing than the shack in the woods.”

He let out a jovial chuckle and nodded his head like he understood. “Went camping and hunting a few times as a boy, never understood why anyone would find living off the land inviting. Really cemented the fact I never wanted to leave the capital long term.” The guard folded both contracts up and handed them back to us, one in each hand. “Welcome to Trone Blanc, we’re happy to have you here to help celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Prince Phaedron Fontainebleau. The crown has asked all entertainers to start checking in outside the castle gates starting tomorrow after noon for their schedules and assignments for the festivities.”

“Thanks!” Maple chirped out as she took back her contract. “Say, you know the capital probably better than anyone else, where do you think there might be an inn with space still available?”

“Go as far away from the gates and as close as possible to the castle. It gets more expensive as you go in and it’ll take you longer to get there which is why everyone stops as soon as they can find space. There should be plenty of open spaces at more moderately priced inns, just the budget options that are spilling patrons out into the streets right now.”

Maple flashed him a thankful smile and did a half bow before wasting no time scurrying through the gate like they might suddenly change their mind on letting us in. I gave my own awkward smile and bow and followed, not wanting to lose sight of her and have to find my own way. I had scraped together just enough coins to probably be able to afford a moderately priced room, but probably just barely and I wanted to argue that we could split a bed and sleep just as comfortably if need be.

The guard had definitely not been lying about the part where people were literally spilling onto the street. The first few inns we passed were clogged with miserable looking patrons in soaked clothing shouting through the door that they’d be willing to spare just a few more copper to be allowed to sleep in the broom closet for the night or out in the loft of the stables. Outside of the area around the inns, the streets were empty thanks to the deepening darkness and the intensity of the rain. We passed many shops and stalls that were locked up tight, their windows dark and the only light available for us to navigate coming from the regularly placed street lights. It had been a long time since I had traveled to a larger city and I had never been to the capital so my head was on a swivel, taking in everything around me even though the weather was dismal enough to make it look drab and uninviting.

“Should be one up ahead,” Mable called out behind her.

“How do you know?” I questioned. She had told me on our way to the city that she had never actually been here either.

“The cobblestone,” she said, stopping to stamp her right foot onto the ground for effect, “they haven’t been a tripping hazard for a little while now. Means we’re in a part of town that has enough money and free time to care about that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t know you were so streetwise,” I commented.

“To be able to focus on your target, you must start to think like your target,” she commented.

Trusting she knew what she was doing, I followed her to the dim light of a warmly lit inn off one of the side streets. The homes and businesses that lined the street were now noticeably more well kept with clean, freshly painted sides and signs drawn up in immaculate script. It definitely did look like it was going to be costing all of my remaining funds to stay for the next few days. Hopefully the crown was planning on paying out at the end of each day of work.

“This should do,” she said, gesturing up to the sign above the door that proclaimed it was the Ancient Cellars Inn. “After you.”