A Ballad of Wandering Bard

The grand feast of the Festival of Unity took place in the heart of Suntails Hollow, a large square where long tables had been set with steaming dishes of roasted meat, fresh fish, baked goods, and hearty stews. Villagers milled about, exchanging greetings and wishes for the next year, the warm hum of camaraderie mingling with the crackle of bonfires that lit the square.

"Good health for the year ahead!" Mrs. Yara Tulls exclaimed as she passed a basket of rolls to her neighbor.

"To a bountiful harvest come spring!" Revrin, the elder hunter, toasted with his mug of cider, earning cheers from those around him.

Laughter echoed through the square, mingling with the melody of pipes and drums. Even Tyrn lingered in the distance, leaning casually against a wooden post as he observed the festivities with his usual air of detachment.

When the feast began to wind down and the villagers settled in for the evening's entertainment, Dorian rose to take the makeshift stage—a wooden platform set near the bonfire. His lute hung comfortably in his hands, and his confident grin drew eager cheers from the crowd.

"Good evening, my fine people!" Dorian called, strumming a chord that crackled with a faint flicker of lightning magic. "Tonight, we celebrate the Twelve and this wonderful little corner of the world we call home. So, let's start with a song—one for winter, for unity, and for all of you!"

He launched into a vibrant tune, his lute strings weaving a melody that seemed to shimmer in the crisp winter air. With each verse, faint illusions danced around the crowd: golden ashes rising like fireflies, snowflakes glimmering in the light of the bonfire, and swirling lights that seemed to paint the stars.

…

Oh frost, your grip shall wane,

Your white veil shifts to spring again.

But in your chill, we find our cheer,

Together as one, we end the year.

Twelve bright stars, their hands held tight,

Guided us through the longest night.

With laughter strong and bonds unbroken,

We write the song, the year a token.

…

As Dorian's final notes faded into the cold night, the crowd erupted into applause. His mastery of magic and music shone brilliantly, each illusion enhancing the performance while never overshadowing the sincerity in his voice.

"That boy," Gorlan said proudly to Elira, who beamed. "He's going to make us famous one day."

After Dorian's performance, the stage became a canvas for the village's children to display their creativity.

A group of younger children performed a simple but heartfelt drama depicting the Calamity. They donned makeshift costumes representing the Twelve Gods and the brave mortals who had united under their guidance to end the chaos. The exaggerated gestures and enthusiastic delivery earned plenty of laughter and applause.

"Look at little Jonas," Ryssa whispered, nudging Dorian. "He's trying so hard to look intimidating as the God of War."

"And failing," Dorian replied, smirking.

Next came children performing tricks, juggling colorful scarves or demonstrating playful children rhymes they'd learned in the weeks leading up to the festival. Their efforts were met with encouraging cheers and applause, the warmth of the crowd fostering their confidence.

As the stage cleared, Lucas stepped forward, drawing surprised murmurs from the crowd. With his wooden practice sword slung over his shoulder and a determined glint in his eyes, he addressed the villagers.

"I've got something special for you tonight," he declared. "I'm calling for a duel—not just one opponent, but two!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and the hunters exchanged skeptical glances. Revrin leaned toward Borr and muttered, "The boy's got guts, I'll give him that. But two? Against hunters? That's madness."

Dorian stood, eyebrows raised. "Lucas, are you serious?"

Lucas grinned, his confidence unwavering. "Dead serious." He turned to the hunters. "So? Who wants to take me on?"

After a moment of hesitation, two seasoned hunters, Harvett and Jallen, stepped forward. Both were skilled duelists with years of experience in the forest, their bodies scarred from close calls with predators.

"You asked for it," Harvett said, smirking.

Jallen added, "Don't cry when we're done."

The crowd murmured with anticipation as the three took their positions in the sparring ring. Lucas gripped his practice sword, his feet shifting into a wide, balanced stance.

The duel began with an electric tension in the air. Lucas held his wooden practice sword tightly, facing off against Harvett and Jallen. The two hunters shared a quick glance, their seasoned instincts guiding their silent communication. Lucas had asked for this, and they would give him a real challenge.

Harvett was the first to move, lunging forward with a quick, testing strike toward Lucas's ribs. Lucas stepped back, narrowly avoiding the blow, but before he could reposition, Jallen swept in from the side with his spear. Lucas blocked the strike with his sword, but the force of the hit jarred his arms, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

"Keep moving, kid!" someone shouted from the crowd, but the words barely registered.

Harvett pressed the attack, his knife slashing in tight arcs that forced Lucas to retreat further. Each swing came faster than the last, and Lucas's breath quickened as he struggled to keep up.

They're too fast.

Jallen closed in again, thrusting his spear low. Lucas managed to deflect it, but the hunters' coordination was relentless. Harvett followed up with a sudden feint that Lucas fell for, and before he could recover, Jallen's spear came dangerously close to striking his shoulder.

Lucas ducked just in time, his heart pounding.

Sweat beaded on Lucas's brow as he darted backward, struggling to keep both hunters in his sights. His arms ached from deflecting their blows, and doubt began to creep into his mind.

They're faster, stronger, more experienced. What was I thinking, challenging both of them?

From the sidelines, Dorian's voice rang out. "You've got this, Lucas!"

Ryssa added, her tone sharp with encouragement, "Focus! Watch their patterns!"

Lucas's gaze flicked toward his friends for just a moment, catching sight of their determined faces. Dorian, who had mastered his magic to help the entire village. Ryssa, who had broken free of the chains of her family's expectations. Bogo, whose endless creativity had transformed their small village.

They've all come so far.

A warmth began to spread in Lucas's chest, traveling to his arms and legs. It wasn't the chill of adrenaline, but something steadier—a calm resolve that pushed back the doubt.

They believe in me. I can't let them down.

Harvett charged again, but this time, Lucas's movements were different. He sidestepped the strike with a precision that surprised even himself, his wooden sword coming up in a clean arc to parry the follow-up slash.

Jallen lunged with his spear, aiming for Lucas's midsection. Lucas twisted to the side, the spear narrowly missing its mark, and countered with a quick strike to Jallen's forearm. It wasn't enough to disarm him, but it forced him back, giving Lucas precious seconds to reposition.

The crowd murmured in surprise.

"Look at him now," Garrin said under his breath. "He's finding his rhythm."

Lucas's movements grew smoother with every passing second. He began to notice the slight hesitation in Harvett's swings, the way Jallen telegraphed his lunges. His blocks turned into dodges, his dodges into counters.

Harvett came at him with a rapid series of strikes, but Lucas deflected them all with a calculated calm. Jallen tried to flank him, but Lucas spun out of reach, delivering a sharp blow to the side of the spear that sent it clattering to the ground.

The hunters exchanged a glance, their earlier confidence fading.

Harvett tried to regain control, lunging with all his strength. Lucas met him head-on, their weapons clashing with a loud crack. But this time, Lucas didn't falter. He stepped into the attack, using Harvett's momentum against him. With a quick pivot, Lucas brought his sword down on Harvett's wrist, forcing him to drop his knife.

Jallen, now unarmed, charged in desperation. Lucas sidestepped easily, sweeping his leg in a low arc to trip the hunter. Jallen stumbled forward, and Lucas delivered a clean tap to his back, forcing him to his knees.

Breathing hard but steady, Lucas pointed his sword at Harvett, then at Jallen, his stance unshakable. "Yield."

The hunters hesitated, but the determination in Lucas's eyes left no room for argument.

Jallen raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright... we yield."

Harvett chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up his knife. "Didn't see that coming, kid. You've got grit—and skill to match."

For a moment, silence hung over the clearing. Then, as one, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers, their astonishment and admiration flowing freely.

Lucas straightened, lowering his sword as a grin broke across his face. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, turning to the audience and offering an exaggerated bow.

"Thank you, thank you," he said, the smirk returning. "I'll be here all winter."

The villagers laughed, their earlier skepticism replaced by awe.

"That boy's got a future," Borr said to Garrin, clapping the smith on the shoulder.

"Aye," Garrin replied, his voice full of pride. "We all knew he'd be something, but this? This is just the start."

Across the square, Jallen and Harvett were nursing their bruised egos with mugs of mead.

"You went easy on him, right?" Jallen muttered to Harvett, glaring playfully.

Harvett laughed. "I thought you were going easy on him!"

Lucas stood tall, his chest rising and falling with each breath, but his expression softened as he looked toward his friends. Dorian, Ryssa, and Bogo were cheering the loudest, their faces alight with pride.

"You did it!" Ryssa called, her grin wide.

Dorian added, "And you made it look epic!"

Bogo clapped Lucas on the shoulder, laughing. "I guess I'll have to start working on your legendary sword sooner than I thought."

Lucas smiled, his earlier doubt now a distant memory. The warmth he'd felt during the duel still lingered, a steady reminder of the bond he shared with his friends—and the strength it gave him.

For the villagers, the duel wasn't just entertainment. It was a symbol of the future—a glimpse of the extraordinary things the next generation could achieve.

And for Lucas, it was proof that the dreams he carried were within reach.