“The Empire is a strange dichotomy of innovation and progress, stifled by tradition and aristocracy.”

Chapter 45

“Who the hell sent this moron?” Mara exclaimed, staring through the crowd at the richly dressed man standing in front of them.

Her words encapsulated the thoughts of everyone in the large hall. Wil thought that it summed up the crowd’s general opinion of the man.

They had gathered in a large room, a part of the town hall. The local council would use the chambers for its meetings, but it had been taken over by the newly arrived Archibald Anwir. He had called a meeting with every man and women in Grand Falls who possessed the ability to use Mana.

Wil didn’t know what to make of Archibald. At first glance, the man looked like a well-dressed, handsome fool. His impeccable outfits in flamboyant colors, his perfectly groomed hair and his wide, toothy smile all screamed fraud and buffoon.

A puffed-up peacock who should be as far away from a crisis as possible. Not a single person took him seriously on his arrival.

He had strutted around, giving orders to the citizens, merchants, guards and even the local council! All the while waving a piece of paper given to him by the Lady Anjou, who technically held authority here, but was too far away currently to truly enforce it.

Not a single person had taken Archibald for their savior. Everyone took his appearance here as a joke, and tried their best ignored him. They took one glance at the man, before turning and walking away.

Even Wil had to admit, he thought Archibald was Lady Anjou’s idea of a cruel jape. Thrusting a fool on the people of Grand Falls during an emergency. He was glad to have been proven wrong.

He didn’t know much about the Bard. He had heard his sonnets, songs and poems before. They were often recited in common rooms and on performance stages throughout the Empire. So, although he was familiar with the Bards works, he knew very little about the man himself.

Wil knew that Archibald traveled throughout the Empire quite frequently, ‘researching’ stories and songs from around the land. Their paths had never crossed, but he heard stories of him.

He was a Rank 4, something that Wil found impressive since he had heard the Bard had no formal training. He progressed through sheer talent and surviving one dangerous encounter after another.

Wil had heard he fought bandits in the East, was seen battling the undead in Aachen and there were even rumors that he once seduced and defeated a powerful and ancient vampire Countess. Half the tales about Anwir were ridiculous, and most treated it as such.

It was due to these rumors, and the sight of the man himself, that Wil expected little to come from his attempts to solve the crisis. After two days, Wil was both thoroughly impressed and disgusted by the Bard.

Impressive was the fact that he managed to cajole, browbeat, threaten and bribe nearly every person of influence in Grand Falls into following his lead.

Wil had witnessed the Bard shouting at an older male mage until the man was practically quivering on the spot, before turning around and flirting with the Merchant’s representative as if they were in a field of flowers, and not standing outside in the depths of a winter’s storm.

In two days, he had the streets cleared of snow, with groups sent to secure the crossroads and bridges in an attempt allow supplies through. He had also organized a meeting with every person able to use Mana in town.

Hundreds of people had gathered to hear what the Bard had to say, as he had assured everyone that he had a plan to solve the crisis.

What disgusted Wil is that he was convinced that Archibald was not doing it out of altruistic reasons. That fact and the outfit the Bard was currently wearing, were equally nauseating.

Which is how, early in the morning, two days after they had first arrived, Mara and Wil found themselves standing shoulder to shoulder in a packed room. Listening to a well-dressed fool attempt to convince them to commit suicide.

“I mean, seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send this…this…” Mara sputtered next to Wil, at a loss for words to describe the man standing before them.

“Clown?” Wil suggested, trying to be helpful.

“CLOWN!” She hissed through her clenched teeth.

Wil sighed, as he stared at the Bard standing at the front of the room.

Archibald was currently adjusting his clothing, marking sure that his cloak was settled on his shoulders in the proper way. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that hundreds of people were standing in front of him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I’ll admit, judging a book by its cover, he’s an idiot. But look around you, I can’t believe what he’s already managed to achieve. He has the support of the local magistrate, the Merchants and even the mayor is here to assist him.” Wil said, pointing at the large, bearlike man standing next to Archibald, waiting impatiently for the other man to begin.

“So what? He has that letter, the one giving him Lady Anjou’s full support. They have to listen to the buffoon.”

“Do you really think a piece of paper would truly make a difference? I’ve heard rumors about Mayor Allard, they call him the Northern Bear, and not just because of his looks. If Archibald was that bad, he could have a handwritten letter from the emperor himself and Allard would still chuck him off a cliff the first chance he got. He wouldn’t be waiting on him like the rest of us.” Wil said, gesturing to Allard.

Before Mara could respond, Archibald had strode forward, finally deciding that his clothing was correct.

Today, he was wearing matching white pants and jacket and his black shimmering fur cloak. To top the outfit off, he had added a sword, belted on his hip. The scabbard and hilt were heavily bejeweled, almost to the point of impracticality. The sword had a large ruby at the top of the hilt, twinkling red in the light.

What had set Mara off, and had half the attendees laughing at the Bard, was the golden breastplate he was wearing. Wil could see that it was heavily enchanted, almost the equal of the magical items Quentin had sold at auction a few weeks before.

Despite the enchantments, the armor looked like it belonged on a stage, not leading men and women into battle.

“Good morning!” Archibald shouted, as he climbed up onto a high table the stretched across the front of the room. He stood in the center of the table, high enough that everyone in the room could see him clearly.

“As you know, I am Archibald Anwir! Composer, playwright, actor and performer!” He bowed deeply, throwing one arm out marvelously as if responding to the cheers and applause from the crowd. He was met with complete silence, broken by the occasional laughter at his expense.

Ignoring the silence, Archibald continued. “Although I am most famous for my artistic endeavors, I am also an accomplished adventurer and explorer! I’ve come here, now, in your hour of need, to deliver you from this terrible storm.” He made a quick motion with his arm, causing his cloak to billow dramatically, and rested his hand on his sword hilt.

“You may rest easy knowing that I, Archibald the Bard: Vanquisher of Vampires, Slayer of Specters, Destroyer of Demons, am here to protect you. I will personally be accompanying the expedition into the unknown, into the very heart of the storm that plagues you.”

He stood as tall as he could, despite his short stature, and threw his head backwards. His long, blond hair drifted casually down his back. He flashed a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming in the light.

“I, Archibald the Bold, will not rest until I bring back the Suns’ light. By the Twin Suns I swear!” He said, pulling his sword out and holding it high. Wil could see that the sword, like his armor, was similarly made of gold and heavily enchanted.

Archibald stood there for a few moments, sword raised high, and again it was as if he expected the crowd to erupt in cheers. He was met with a deafening silence, broken only by the awkward shuffling of feet and a rough laughter from the rear of the room.

Allard stepped forward, seeing that Archibald was caught in an embarrassing situation. “Why don’t you let me explain things a bit?” He offered to the Bard.

“Of course. They must be terrified, poor things.” He said, lowering his golden sword and placing it back in his scabbard. He hopped down from the table, patting Allard on the shoulder as he stepped out of the room.

“Ahem” Allard coughed into his hand, as he waited for Archibald to leave.

When the Bard was gone, he turned to the assembled crowd. “Alright, I’ll make it short and simple. As of this moment, by order of the emperor, you are all enlisted to aid in the defense of Grand Falls. You’ll be taking your orders from his majesties’ representative.”

“And who’s that!?” A voice shouted from the crowd.

Allard shrugged his shoulders, a resigned look on his face. “Archibald Anwir” he answered. With that statement, the crowd erupted.