Chapter 67

The words set off a wave of anger, and Wil gathered his mana around him, ready to fight his way through. The people arrayed against him were lower in rank, 5th and 6th, so he had no doubt he would come out on top, even being outnumbered.

He had some concern about their equipment and magical items, he had seen for himself how powerful Astrid’s relics were, but he wasn’t willing to slip meekly back to the outskirts, wasting days or even weeks in recovery while those indolent fools here idled their time away.

If he was honest with himself, most of the anger he felt was directed towards his past life. He used to be just like the people here, worst even, since he hadn’t even left the academy until his father forced him.

Just when Wil was sure a fight would break out, a voice cut through the tension, like a hot knife through butter.

“I should have known it would be you, Brookmoor!” A man spoke, his voice easily carrying over the din with a unique cadence and timber. It was a voice accustomed to being heard in crowded taverns and concert halls.

Hearing his last name, something that Wil didn’t offer readily during his time in Lund, he spun around, his eyes widening in shock as he found a familiar face.

“Anwir? What in the nine layers of hell are you doing here?” Wil spoke, his tone disbelieving as he recognized the bard standing in front of him.

The bard stood in the midst of the group of locals, wearing the finest silk robes and carrying a lyre in one hand. Unlike the last time Wil had seen him, the man had forgone his golden amour and sword, appearing as if he were attending court, rather than a dangerous wasteland that the Midnight Desert was.

Astrid’s eyes were wide open in shock as she took in the foreigner in front of him. Devilishly handsome, his long, blond hair was gathered into a ponytail that draped across one shoulder and down his front.

What shocked her wasn’t his appearance, it was his strength. His mana was a match for Wil’s, a Rank 7. However, Unlike Wil’s restless and eager mana, Archibald Anwir’s was reserved and calm.

“Same as you, I would imagine.” The bard said, laughing as he tapped a small, silver ‘AG’ pin that was on his collar.

“I had heard of an Illyrian barbarian, pushing and shoving his way through every obstacle, eager to reach the Center Spring. An ugly young man, barely able to string together a coherent sentence. So of course, I immediately thought of you!” Anwir continued, flashing a brilliant smile, his white teeth standing out against the black sand.

Astrid thought that Wil would take offense at the comment, and she expected him to erupt. To her surprise, the handsome young man smiled widely, as he stepped forward and shook hands with the bard.

“Pompous ass. It’s good to see you again, it’s been while since I’ve seen a friendly face.” Wil said, slapping the bard on the shoulder good naturedly.

“You too Wil!” The bard responded, before turning to Astrid. He gave her a quick look over, before giving a courtly bow, low, with one arm held outstretched dramatically.

“Archibald Anwir, my beautiful lady. I despair! I know not what god has blessed this ugly brute that I call friend, but he is always in company of beauty!” The bard declared, straightening from his bow as he held a hand against his forehead, beseeching the heavens for help.

“Truly? It is not from his charm, I assure you.” Astrid said, grinning at the bard’s antics, and sticking her tongue out at Wil mockingly when he showed an affronted face.

“I’m plenty charming!” Wil said, his expression playfully outraged.

“He’s truly not, milady. I tried to teach him when we traveled together in the north. Alas, useless!” Anwir said, giving Astrid a wink with one eye.

“How dare you ignore us!” The young woman with the thin saber screamed her face flushed red. Before anyone could stop her, she was dashing forward, her blade in her hand and pointed at the foreigners.

Anwir, not missing a beat, stepped forward and seemed to flow around the blade, his movements seamless. Like a dancer, he sidestepped the blow, grabbing the young woman’s wrist and twisting. The saber fell from her stunned grasp a moment before the bard twirled, spinning the young woman and flipping her into the air.

She crashed to the ground, uninjured, a bowing Anwir standing above her.

“Apologies, my dear. We’re all friend here, now. Comrades in the Guild and all that. Best behavior from now on, no?” He said, grinning at the stunned woman, before holding a hand out to help her up.

“Amalie!” A young man yelled, about to step forward when Declan snapped his fan out, stopping him.

“Enough! We will put your past actions behind us, in consideration of the Guild. But beware, my patience is at its limit. Go!” The handsome man said, waving his fan at Wil and his companions, dismissing them from his presence.

“Fine by me.” Wil said, gesturing for the Anwir and Astrid to follow him.

They were soon out of the collection of pavilions and tents, striding their way forward, towards the center once more.

“How could you put up with that group, Anwir? It’s like being back in the palace again, surrounded by sycophants and morons.” Wil asked as they walked down a path, weaving around tents and shaded resting areas. Unlike their rampage earlier, the trio was significantly more careful.

“That’s exactly the reason why I enjoyed it, Wil. I take to it like a fish to water.” The bard said, grinning.

“So, why are you really here?” Wil said, stopping and turning to the bard. Astrid slowed her steps, staring at the flamboyant man in front of her, curious at this new friend of Wil’s.

“Adventure, for one. After the north, I returned to the capital, but it became dreadfully boring! I was thinking of traveling to Aachen, maybe writing an epic about the suffering there, but, to my surprise, a certain young mage had helped destroy the evil dwelling there! To think, the liberation of an undead city, and I missed it!” The bard said, giving Wil an odd look as he did so.

Astrid caught the meaning, turning her attention to Wil. She had heard of Aachen. Even in Lund, the demise of the trade city in Illyria had been newsworthy. To think the undead had been defeated, and that the young man next to her had something to do with it, was stunning.

“It wasn’t anything heroic, Anwir. My brother and Sister-in-law were the ones behind it, I just sort of…” Wil explained, trying the find the words.

“Stumbled into trouble and solved the whole damn thing? Like what happened in the north?” Anwir said, his face turning serious.

“Yeah, I stumbled into it. Story of my life.” Wil said, shaking his head.

“And now you’re here, and let me tell you, you’ve wandered into something just as troublesome. You will tell me what happened in Aachen, by the way, I’m not letting an opportunity for a firsthand account slip through my fingers, but for now, we have worries of our own.”

“What’s going on, Mr. Anwir? I thought this was a simple test to cross the desert?” Astrid asked, curious.

“It is, my dear, but also an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. The guild’s test is just adding to the flavor, the main dish is here, in the Center.” Anwir said, looking around for a moment before settling on an empty crate that lay abandoned in the sand, just up the path they were taking.

“I came to Lund for an adventure, Illyria had become…stifling, for me. The Guild presented a unique experience to travel Lund, and I intend to compose a suitable sonnet about it. But it’s here that the true adventure is located. There’s a secret here, in this place, hence the gathering you see before you.”

“Secret? I haven’t heard a thing about this place, aside from the resources and materials here” Astrid asked, looking doubtful.

“The test is an excuse, my dear, to bring everyone together for this opportunity. Let me see, there’s a verse that you may find interesting. ‘In the Center, under the Black Moon, the portal shall open, and fortune obtained.’”

“Portal?” Wil spoke up, his arms crossed.

“Indeed, a portal to a forgotten, minor realm. A piece of history, lost to time. I believe you are interested in history and archaeology, Wil? Think of the possibilities! You to study this place, me to write our adventure! It’s a match made in heaven!”