Page 76 of Badmouths & Bards

The sudden burst of arcane energy—a deep, dark swirling blue that took the form of a gate directly behind Ameriden caught Casimine off guard. He nearly choked on his own tongue as a pair of armed warriors suddenly came through. The spell he had cast to amplify his voice was suddenly broken, his connection to his magic suddenly cut as he stared in disbelief.

He didn’t recognize the armor, but the gleaming metal had a distinctive shade of blue that was familiar. Not that it really mattered in the moment as the pair of warriors quickly became four, then eight, then—

“Is this part of the show?” a noble questioned from the front of their makeshift stage.

Casimine very much wished whatever was happening was a part of the show, but he highly doubted that Seira would have invested so much given what she paid for the last minute tailor work. He was on the verge of shooting a look of question in her direction when his heart suddenly stopped. One of the warriors—a captain or some authority figure perhaps, given his dark blue cloak—had moved right in front of Ameriden.

“Prince Navin,” the leader said, voice far too stern and authoritative for Casimine’s liking, “For absconding from the Consort Trials you are hereby ordered to to return to the Pernimas Dynasty where you will be judged by Emperor Krinun. Any attempts to evade capture will be—”

Before the man could finish his sentence, a fist suddenly cut him off. It took Casimine a moment to realize the fist belonged to Ameriden, who was now positioned between the stranger and the princess. A collective gasp echoed throughout the chamber—Casimine included—at the unexpected violence. The trained bard in him warned that punching someone while performing was not good for their image, but Casimine promptly told that part of himself to drop dead because there was clearly more pressing matters at hand!

Questions began to swarm in the crowd, guests looking around nervously. Out of the corner of Casimine’s eye, he could see the guards taking defensive stances and the king—

“You can tell your emperor that I’m not interested in attending court,” Ameriden snarled. “And if he wanted me to come so badly, he should have sent a formal invitation!”

How Ameriden was tied to the Pernimas Dynasty was a question for a later time. Casimine could already see the leader recovering from the punch, moving to stand tall and proud. While he was very concerned for Ameriden’s well being, his partner wasn’t entirely defenseless either. However, the princess was, and what it would mean for them if something were to happen to her was more important in the moment. Casimine closed the distance, stepping in front of the princess who was eyeing the whole scene with wide, frightened eyes.

“Forgive the interruption to your party, Princess Osonia,” Casimine said over his shoulder. “But it would perhaps be better for you to leave this instance…for your father’s sake at least—”

A quick flash of silver and Casimine instinctively pushed the princess back before he realized what was happening. Instead of a sword aimed at the local royalty, a dagger was now pressed against one of the warriors’ shoulder. Attached to said dagger was a pale, gaunt man in all red with a look of pure aggression twisting his handsome features.

“Sir Justyan!” the princess shrieked in recognition.

Hearing the princess was what finally set the entire gala into motion. Women started screaming, armor started clattering as guards began to rush the stage. An explosion of fear, panic, and uncertainty had overtaken the room and all Casimine could do was pull the princess to the edge of the stage into the waiting arms of two guards.

“Go, take her to safety!” Casimine shouted.

The guards didn’t have to be told twice, clearing space to usher her away while she shouted for her Sir Justyan. Out of the corner of his eye, Casimine could see the king moved to meet them, before being pulled away. By the time Casimine turned around, he was suddenly being pushed aside by a familiar body. Tala landed side by side with him, concern clear in her panicked expression. Where Casimine had once been standing was one of the warriors in blue armor.

“You okay?” Tala asked.

“Yeah,” Casimine lied. “What is happening?!”

“I have no fucking idea but stay down!” Tala commanded before peeling herself away from him.

Casimine couldn’t stop her even if he wanted to. She was too fast, rolling onto her knees and charging into the messy fray. He had been witness to enough bar fights during their early days on the road, but there was no backstage to retreat to. The clash of weapons and armor echoing throughout the chamber as combat—real combat—was enclosing all around him. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, and sweat broke out along his temple.

The bravery he had displayed earlier was for self preservation. Casimine wasn’t brave, he was just a bard. The overwhelming helplessness was back, raising the memories he had tried desperately to bury. The sounds—the rush of bodies weren’t the same as the ones of his fans in that room, but his body didn’t know that. His body—his body was trembling despite all his efforts to keep the sensation at bay. His body—his body, and no one else’s—was frightened and despite the tremors, Casimine was somehow frozen on the ground of the stage.

Snap out of it.

Snap out of it!

Snap down!

Get down!

GET DOWN!

He immediately dropped his body back down as spear sailed past the spot his head had been. The realization of how close he’d been from a fatal injury nearly made him feel faint. Once again, the innate divination that had been passed onto him from his mother had saved his life. It was sobering, shaking the anxious panic for something more solid. What was he doing laying here on the ground? Casimine would never claim to be any of the heroes he sang about, but all good stories had a little embellishment to them. He wasn’t a fighter the way Tala or Ameriden was, but he could still do something.

“Guards! We need more guards!” a voice cried somewhere below the stage.

Casimine kept low to the ground, eyeing the scene in front of him. He spotted Sir Justyan first, his deep red cloak a mess around his shoulders as he pushed back against one of the warriors with nothing but the hilt of his dagger. Sir Justyan gained the upper hand, putting enough distance between his shoulder and the warrior’s sword. Casimine lost track of him once another set of combating warriors filled his view.

Amer. Tala. Where are—there!

Near the back of the stage where the arcane gate still stood were the two loves of his life. Standing back to back, Ameriden with his large fists and Tala with two ends of a broken spear in each hand. Both of them had the audacity to wear cocksure grins—like they were in the middle of a brawl competition and not fighting for their lives.