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Chapter 69: A Tour of Tadon
🕑 Added 2025-02-22 08:58:39 +0000 UTCSelyse walked away from the orphanage, her usual confident stride slightly slower, as if deep in thought. The lively chatter of the children faded behind her, replaced by the occasional bustling footsteps of the city streets.
A few paces behind, Dorian crept after her, trying his hardest to be sneaky. He stepped lightly, ducking behind crates and wagons, making a dramatic effort to go unnoticed.
Selyse didn't even turn her head.
"I know you're following me."
Dorian froze mid-step, one foot still in the air.
"What—? No, I—" He tried, before giving up with a sheepish laugh.
"You're not exactly the silent type, bard." Selyse finally turned, a knowing smirk on her lips.
Dorian cleared his throat, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure you weren't up to something suspicious."
Selyse crossed her arms. "Or maybe you're about to ask me some deep, meaningful question about what's bothering me."
Dorian opened his mouth, only to snap it shut when she raised a hand to stop him.
"I don't want to talk about it, Dorian." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "I just needed some fresh air."
Dorian tilted his head, then grinned, pivoting instantly.
"Oh, fresh air? Well, I was actually about to ask for a tour of the town." He gestured dramatically. "You know, since I'm a bard and all, I need to see if Tadon is truly worthy of my performance."
Selyse let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "You are so full of it."
"And yet, you're about to show me around."
Selyse sighed, feigning defeat. "Alright, fine. I'll bite. Let's go, bard."
Tadon was alive with the pulse of merchants and townsfolk, the streets filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted nuts, and sizzling meats. Vendors shouted their wares, competing to draw customers into their stalls.
Dorian strolled leisurely, taking in the sight of colorful fabrics, intricately woven jewelry, and strange trinkets he had never seen before.
Selyse, on the other hand, was on a mission.
The moment she spotted a stall selling leather gloves, she swooped in like a hawk.
"How much?" she asked casually.
"Five silver." The merchant, a burly man with a well-worn apron, leaned forward with a practiced smile.
Selyse scoffed, shaking her head. "Come on. Five? I can get the same pair for two silver across the street."
Dorian watched, amused, as the merchant frowned. "Two? That's absurd—look at the quality! This is real northern leather!"
Selyse picked up the gloves, examining them as if they were second-rate goods. "Hmm… I don't know. Looks like they'll wear out in a few weeks."
The merchant bristled. "They'll last a year at least!"
Selyse shrugged, already turning away. "A year? That's not very promising. Oh well. I'll go see the other stall."
"Wait!" the merchant called after her, throwing his hands up. "Three silver. Final offer."
Selyse paused, as if considering.
Dorian, watching closely, saw the small victorious smirk she was hiding.
She sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright. Three silver it is."
The merchant grumbled, clearly defeated.
As they walked away, Dorian let out a low whistle. "That was impressive."
Selyse smirked, tossing him an apple she had bought with the change. "You should try it sometime instead of just charming your way into things."
"I do charm my way into things!" Dorian protested.
"Yeah, yeah. Just admit it—you could never bargain like me."
Dorian mock gasped. "You wound me, Lady Selyse."
They continued through the market, Selyse making more unreasonably good deals, much to Dorian's growing amusement.
As they walked past the city square, Dorian slowed, looking around.
Selyse frowned. "What?"
Dorian gestured toward the open space. "For such a bustling city, this square feels… sad."
Selyse glanced around, noting the lack of street performers or entertainers.
"Yeah. Kind of strange, huh?"
Dorian grinned, adjusting his lute. "Well, for my lady, I suppose I must make it shine."
Before Selyse could protest, he had already stepped into the center of the square, pulling his wide-brimmed hat off his head and placing it on the ground.
Then, he strummed a single chord.
At first, no one paid attention.
There were a dozen other bards in the city, and most of them were amateurs—passersby assumed he was just another one of them.
But then, a breeze stirred the air.
Dorian lifted his hand, and his flute floated beside him, playing a hauntingly sweet melody through the use of his wind magic.
The trick immediately caught attention.
People stopped, intrigued by the unusual sight.
Then, Dorian began to sing.
"Through the woods, a shadow crept,
A beast of tusks, where nightmares slept.
Men cried out, their blades all failed,
Till one lone hunter took the trail."
The melody shifted, growing bold and heroic.
"A spear in hand, her gaze was steel,
No beast alive could make her kneel.
With cunning steps, she laid her snare,
A boar of hell—caught unaware!"
Dorian embellished the tale, describing how the hunter had leapt from the trees, her spear blazing with fire, striking the demon boar between the eyes as it shrieked and cursed her name.
The crowd grew, captivated by the drama.
Selyse, however, stood at the back, arms crossed, trying not to laugh.
She knew the truth—this was just their boar hunt from the other night, exaggerated beyond reason.
Dorian continued, singing about how the fearless hunter stood atop the slain beast, claiming victory over darkness itself.
By the time he was done, the square roared with applause.
Coins clattered into his hat, and Dorian beamed, taking a deep bow.
Selyse approached, arms still crossed, her smirk uncontainable.
"Fearless hunter, huh?"
Dorian grinned cheekily. "I may have… adjusted some details."
Selyse arched a brow. "Fire? Darkness itself?"
Dorian shrugged. "You did stab the boar."
Selyse shook her head, laughing. "You are ridiculous."
"And yet, you laughed."
She didn't deny it.
