Bartholomew had been lurking in the city for the past few days. One of his worshipers was writing a new song, and it wasn’t half bad. It was an ode to beer which happened to be one of his favorite subjects. He had heard the song twice already, and tonight the bard would be singing in a larger tavern. Moving up to the larger crowd size would let him give the bard a quest.

Since a requirement for bards to level past 10 was performance crowd size, it made sense that the man would be in a smaller bar first. The one that the bard would be at was the second largest in the city tonight, and with Bartholomew there, it would be the biggest party.

Bartholomew walked through the city from the hidden shrine he liked to use towards William’s Inn. The walk took him through the press of the people, the interactions, the noise, and the smell. Most gods didn’t bother to come and walk among the people anymore, but he had been taught differently.

The city hadn’t changed in years. Yes, it had grown, and the people were not the same, but the city was as it once was. Large, and mostly unimportant. It commanded no respect as a city other than it was one. No pass held, no trade routes managed. No, it was here, and that was all.

The buildings in the old quarter where he started his walk hadn’t even changed in a few hundred years. You could tell with the aged look of the brick and the smoothness of the stone road. It was something that he liked about the old quarter. No significant changes that removed anything important.

He had been taught that you needed to be near those who would worship and see how they lived. You needed to let some young thief pick your pocket and become something special every now and then. Also, he just liked coming to this city.

This is where he grew up, became a bard, and wrote his songs. This is where he got picked up by a god and made a champion. In this city, he stepped from the pages of mortal to that of a demigod, and it was here just before the fall that he became a god.

It was in this city that his family still lived. None of them for five generations had become a bard, and none of them worshiped him the god of bards and summer beer. No, they were all good little mortals who worshiped the current pantheon.

He had very few worshipers outside of the bards and a few barkeeps. That let him spend more time with those who were his. That also meant that nights like this were special. Tonight a bard would step out from being a bard and become a priest of Bartholomew.

When Charles leveled tonight, creating a song that would make those hearing get 10% more likely to buy a beer and have a 25% longer period of being tipsy and not drunk, he would be offered to become a priest. It was a great song all about summer beer and the lovely light flavor it had. The fun part about it was that since it would count towards the requirement to become a priest, it would also get a 10% boost to the amount of money tipped for the following two hours. So Charle’s life wouldn’t change that much, except he would get priest quests, and he would be able to find those within a mile that worshiped.

No, tonight would be great. Bartholomew hadn’t had a priest in this city for over 100 years, and tonight he would get one. It would be ironic and fun having a priest in a city that thought bards were all evil. About 400 years ago, they passed a law making bards a banned class in the city.

The way to the inn was long, and to stay out of the prying eyes of the other gods, Bartholomew had to walk. But, as he walked, he felt the call of a worshiper. Not in the way that paladins would ask for a blessing or how a priest would as for favor. No, this feeling was that of a worshiper who was asking for help without a class to help. A true request made at an old alter, disused and forgotten.

He turned his steps from his destination and started to make his way toward the workers’ district. He would need to take Law street past the town center to get there. He had the time to see to the prayer of the woman that was calling. It should be a quick trip as the request was a simple one.

“Please help these guys stay in tune.”

It was the desperation of the request that caused him to go. The particular nature of the one calling for help and the level of belief that he could and would both be able to and willing. These things drew him to the request.

It was but a scant few minutes later that, while walking, he felt his first bump. He smiled as the young child made off with the coin in his pocket. It was one of his coins which some would think of as a blessing and others as a curse. To take a token from the god of Bards would force a class change on you to that of a Bard or Brewer if you didn’t use it to tip a Bard.

It was a joke and a blessing all in one. True bards were so far, and in between that generating them this way was one of the few ways he was able to keep the class around. He felt a second bump as he passed through the town center.

There was a fountain there and a bank with the Inn Royale across from it to the southeast. At one time so long ago, this was the place where so many people would come. There had been a magical portal that would open here to let people train in combat and earn money.

However, as much as things didn’t change, they also did. The portal ended over a thousand years ago when the new pantheon stepped up. The games were run by the old gods, and the new ones wanted nothing to do with them.

Soon he was past the large square and was making his way northwest to the laborer’s quarter. Sometimes, it was called the poor quarter, but that wasn’t fair to say. While not truly a quarter, it was a sizable chunk of the city. It was where most of the homes were for ordinary people. His type of people. Those who liked parties and songs.

When Bartholomew passed through the gates from the town center into the laborer’s quarter, things looked even less like they had changed in a thousand years. The stone homes were covered in the same chipped clay that smoothed over everything. The roads had the same dust and animal smell that they always did. The clothing here was still much the same as when he lived here. Bare legs, long drab non-dyed tunics held with a leather belt. Sure the feet now had boots which were better, but nothing much changed. Except for the individual people, the whole was still the same.

Another ten minutes and six thieves took the single gold coin in his pocket, and he was now at the small tavern that he felt the prayer from. This building had been here unchanged in purpose for hundreds of years. It was a temple to him long ago, but that was back when most taverns were dedicated to him.

A gnome sat on a stool by the door, taking a cover charge as he walked in. The gnome had two purple eyes, and his hair was flame orange. He had a huge toothy smile that showed off all his pointy little teeth.

“That will be 2 silvers to enter tonight”, the gnome said.

“Two? That is outrageous!” Bartholomew bellowed

“We have two who bards tonight. The party will be great! They are playing dancing songs and love songs. Two silver.”

“Oh, bards, you say?”

“Yes, fresh to town can only be here a few days before the lord finds out and runs them out.”

“Very well, take a gold and put the rest to start a tab.”

The gnome cackled and yelled in gnomish towards the bar, “We have a sucker here thinks they are bards and dropped a gold!”

Bartholomew walked in the door and saw his old alter near what once was the front of the room. The small alcove was being used as a staging area. It was just big enough that the barmaid could put a tray there and load it with drinks before heading out to the tables.

The room had been turned around at some point. The front where the music would be had become where the bar stood and where the bar used to be were now more tables.

There were two young men on the fall wall from the door with lutes. They were covered head to toe with the ugliest outfits you could think of. One wore a hat with 4 points, each with a bell on it. The other had a tunic of red and blue squares, each the size of a fist. The lutes they had were held poorly, and the tuning was off.

The god made his way towards the far edge of the room. Far enough away from the bar that the barmaid would have to come over but also far enough away from the “bards” that they wouldn’t hear him. He sat down at a small table and leaned back, and slowly scanned across the room.

The tavern could hold up to 50, perhaps 60 if people pressed in. However, there were only about twenty. As other people came in, they waved at the gnome and were not charged. It seemed that he was the only mark.

The barmaid came over to his table not five minutes after he sat down. She was plain, if he was being honest, not large in any way. Had a bright smile that improved her looks and a slightly crazed glint in her eye that spoke of always being on the move. If she wasn’t so haggard she would likely be pretty but the stress seemed to sap something from her that should have been there.

“Welcome to Summer’s inn. What can I get for you tonight?”

“Summer’s inn?”

“Yup, they say that the first summer beer was served here. Don’t know if it is true or not but I like to think it is. Gives us something special that others can’t take away.”

Bartholomew laughed and looked around. No wonder this place worked to get his attention. This was his bar. He mostly didn’t recognize it as much had changed inside. Add with all his feelings of nothing ever-changing, the building around had changed some. They even added a floor to this one. When it was his, there were only two floors.

“Do you happen to have any summer beer already?”

“We have some that we brew here, try to keep it handy just because”

“Then I will take it!”

“Right back for ya!”

She spun around and grabbed the orders of another table, then wove her way back to the bar. He noticed that she was humming or lightly singing the whole time she moved. As she neared the bar, a hand shot out and grabbed her right wrist.

“Are you singing tonight?”

“No! Are you daft we have those two with the lutes tonight.”

The man who grabbed her wrist shrunk down towards his mug as the two lutes started to play. To say that they were playing was being polite. It was likely that in the whole time that the two owned their lutes, they had not tuned them. Perhaps they even got the lutes cursed to make it harder to play as if they had even a single level in lute would make it sound better.

“Here’s ya a beer, that be a copper.”

“Started a tab with the gnome over there when I paid my cover,” Bartholomew pointed towards the entrance.

“Nesgrim! You take this man’s money?”

“No! I just sit here and ask for drinks everyone knows that.” Nesgrim said with a wink.

“Copper,” The barmaid said.

Bartholomew leaned towards her and, in a soft voice, whispered as he passed her a gold coin. “I heard you. There is no hope for them being in tune.”

“What?” She gasped, looking at the coin and then at her customer.

“No hope at all, neither one has the lute skill, and neither one has the bard class.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know bards. Those kids aren’t even going to get offered the class.”

“You know bards?”

“Yes, just like I know that you poured a drink out and prayed to the god of bards and summer beer that they would be in tune.”

She stood up from where she had leaned forward to hear him and looked around.

“How do you know that, you just got here and no one saw me?”

“Relax, you can worship the god in this city, you just can’t be a bard.”

“Who are you?” She asked in almost a whispered shout.

“Someone who has a vested interest in this place. There will be a man who will be by later tonight. He will want to speak with you about the god which you were praying to.” +

“Like it matters, I send my prayers but they seem not to get answered.”

He stood up, drained the beer, shook his head, and started to move towards the door. As he passed the two poorly played lutes, he looked at the barmaid one more time. He caught her eye and pointed at the lutes. They wined for a moment and then were in tune. The song was clear and crisp and played even as the two ‘bards’ stopped moving their fingers.

“Oh you might want to hang on to that coin,” he shouted over the din of the drinkers as he moved out the door.