“Is this the final draft?” Laura asked.

The man sitting across from her nodded vigorously, normally that would be a warning sign that the deal was going south, but this man was a bard. They were just perky like that. He was dressed in the most avante-garde fashion of the wealthy merchant class—a pair of leather sandals dyed cobalt, a tunic of the same color embroidered with silver thread and leather trousers made from mana beast hide.

“I guarantee this will masterpiece will light a fire under the abilities proverbial posteriors. I have taught it to a dozen of my fellows along with specific instructions of where to perform it and when. They have also been instructed to scamper at the mere whiff of an imperial guardsman, no offense, your highness.”

“Oh, I am not in the least offended, Cantus. The Imperial guard are a slovenly herd of pigs that run when come running when anyone with authority waves a crumb at them. I only trust in my honor guard, of which, I have personally recruited and vetted each and every one.” She smiled over her shoulder armed escort. Virus had just returned with a report before the meeting and volunteered to take up the post while her usual escort visited the little killer’s room.

Laura was clad in a traditional stola, a traditional dress of the nobility which was a garment that started off as a robe that was tucked in here and there to make it drape like a dress. On her shoulders was a wide silken shawl known as a palla. Complete with an under tunic to protect her modesty, she was the picture of conservative nobility.

Cantus looked intrigued by her response. “Indeed, I am glad to see that their misconduct is noted by one such as yourself. The performance will start Friday at eighth bell. That is when the workers and artisans start filling the taverns and are still sober enough to remember the message.”

“Excellent. I will trust your capable hands in this matter. I especially enjoy your dig on the priesthood. It is about time that someone called them out on their actions. They have had the common folk wrapped in lies and propaganda for too long.”

“Aye, I took extra care in composing that stanza. We would not want to leave the church out of the storm we plan to brew up, would we?