Chapter 85
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Festival - 14
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I half-reclined on a backless wooden chair, settling into position.
Delion hugged the lute to himself.
The body rested on his right thigh, the neck tilted slightly upward.
His left hand lacked strength.
It felt like he was consciously holding it loosely.
Unlike during the match, no veins bulged on his wrist.
It was soft.
Someone in the audience called out to him.
"Delion, so what piece are you going to play?"
"......Pardon?"
"You have to tell us the name of the song before you start."
"Ah. The title, you mean?"
A bard is someone who sings poetry.
The genre is usually epic poetry, or epics in other words.
The lyrics contain historical events, the deeds of gods, or the life stories of heroes.
Stories passed from mouth to mouth, growing flesh along the way.
The piece the village head had performed naturally had a title as well.
He had introduced the song he sang as 'The Blue Heart Beyond the Castle Gates'.
It was hardly something one could call ear-pleasing even as empty flattery for its brief three minutes or so.
Still, the lyrics alone were worth mulling over.
A knight who protected the kingdom, a princess under a curse.
A clichéd theme of thawing a frozen heart with love and courage, but one that appealed to everyone.
Up to the middle, I thought the blue heart referred to the vital breath of the demon beast attacking the kingdom, but by the end, it turned out to be a metaphorical expression for the bond between the princess and the knight.
Everyone was curious about the title of the song Delion would perform.
Hearing the title let them anticipate the lyrics to come.
Whether it matched expectations or veered wildly off, it ultimately enhanced the enjoyment in some way.
"All I know is...... beginner-level playing. It doesn't have a title or anything."
"Huh? You're basically a bard, and you don't even know the name of the song you're going to sing?"
'Beginner-level playing?'
Looking again, it was one of the chatty villagers from during the swordsmanship match.
Another one nudged his shoulder from the seat beside him.
"Is this guy drunk or something? Spouting such nonsense so confidently? Delion's not a bard."
"What's so special about being a bard? Pick up an instrument, sing a song—that makes you a bard."
Strictly speaking, bards were wanderers who roamed and composed and sang songs.
But in this village where no more wanderers came from outside, 'bard' seemed to be used interchangeably with musician.
Delion was a guard.
I had no idea why he knew how to play an instrument, but performing wasn't his profession.
"The title......"
"Sorry for making you self-conscious. I won't bother you anymore, so just do it your way."
"No, that's fine. I just thought of a name."
He seemed to have come up with a good one.
A title fitting the lyrics.
"The title is 'Ashen Promise and Journey'. That's what I'll go with."
His thumb gently plucked the first string.
It vibrated shallowly.
The thumb stopped immediately, and his index finger moved.
Plucking the next string, then the one after.
Index and middle fingers alternated.
His wrist stayed mostly fixed.
It wasn't just his right hand moving.
His left hand was just as busy.
Pressing strings, releasing them, shaking them.
At moments requiring quick finger movements, strain showed on his left wrist.
Occasionally, too much force went in.
Yet the tempo never faltered.
"Tch, as expected, I've got no talent for art?"
This wasn't a match.
I was habitually focusing on his movements like against an opponent.
Where the force went, how each body part moved.
It wasn't the focus needed to enjoy a performance.
This wasn't a moment to follow with the eyes.
I needed to take it in with the ears.
Remember the notes, nod to the rhythm, understand and feel the lyrics.
Compared to the previous performance, this was not just beautiful—it was ecstatic.
The notes flowed smoothly, and Delion's voice filled the gaps in between.
Delion's voice was even more tenor than I'd imagined.
"Big difference between his talking voice and singing voice."
"......"
"If he sings that well, he should do it more often in daily life."
Deina must have been hearing Delion sing for the first time too; she voiced the exact thought in my head.
By her standards, it seemed satisfying—her expression was refreshingly clear, unlike before.
I enjoyed listening too.
So what of the tale being recited?
First, recall the title.
Ashen Promise and Journey.
Ashes carry a pale silver hue.
But to imagine something beautiful, the murky specks mixed in the silver make it hard.
Ashen is closer to gray than silver, after all.
I revised my thinking.
Imagine gray.
Lift your head: thunderclouds.
Lower it: gravel.
Graphite powder, exhaust fumes, concrete.
Things unseen from the tower lingered in my memory.
Gray—nothing else connected the objects that came to mind; no organic link.
Just gray.
Gray meant drabness.
What is a drab promise?
An empty vow?
A heartless contract for money?
An agreement sealed with polite smiles, hearts full of self-gain?
"......"
What is a journey?
Journey as in travel path, or journey as in the flower.
The lyrics mentioned an adventurer.
Perhaps the adventurer's path.
Waiting for sunlight.
Perhaps a flower to bloom tomorrow.
What was certain: the adventurer had made a promise.
"......"
"......"
As everyone immersed themselves in appreciation, the tale reached its end.
It was a very small performance.
"It'd been a while since I sang it—how was it?"
"Whoa, we've had a musician in our village all this time!"
"Delion! Why'd you waste this talent till now? Hey! If you're this good, you should've said something sooner!"
He received rave reviews.
Perhaps even more than after the swordsmanship match.
Or more than when he devoted himself to the village as a guard.
The village head, a former bard, posed a question.
"Did you compose it yourself?"
"I made it long ago. ......How did you know?"
"I've sung a few in my day—if you've never heard one, they'd all sound the same."
Songs circulating endlessly among bards had piled up, but even those new ones remained in the village head's memory.
Whenever a bard visited the village, that was his attitude: treat them well.
Back when outsiders still came to Luden, he must have made sure to listen.
"The lyrics were a bit hard to grasp, but still a fine performance. Thanks."
"No, not at all."
"What do you mean no? I nearly ruined the mood, and you barely saved it."
The village head patted Delion's shoulder.
"Ah, you handled the instrument well. It was in good condition."
"I have to at least maintain it properly......"
Delion handed the instrument back to the village head.
The performance ended.
Most left good reviews.
No—'most' was the wrong word.
Everyone except one gave good reviews.
"Is that it? I didn't think much of it."
"Looks like the alcohol wore off enough for your skill to kick in. Earlier you were so wasted you could barely talk."
"Huh? What are you saying? When did I ever get drunk?"
"......"
"I've been fine the whole time since we started drinking?"
He himself remembered nothing, but I decided to be relieved that the fireworks could proceed normally.
'So what did the lyrics mean, anyway.'
It wasn't a heroic saga— no adventurer's feats.
No gods appeared, nor any event to be recorded in history books.
Each line was profound, but laid out together, they were lyrics that instilled faith.
A vague faith.
"You can do it as planned, right?"
"Who're you worrying about? Don't you trust my magic skills?"
The fireworks began, and Sua launched bursts of colorful sparks into the sky.
- Swoosh
Sua's seat was to my right, Deina's left.
Delion returned after the performance and sat there.
His actual seat was to Deina's left, not right, but since it was empty, it was fine to sit during the fireworks.
"Sorry. I sat in the wrong spot."
"No. Stay a bit."
"Ah, yes. Understood."
I had many questions.
Just before the performance started, I'd planned to ask about his rift with Koon if we crossed paths.
But now, curiosity about the lyrics burned stronger.
"What’s an 'ashen promise'? I racked my brain and couldn’t figure it out."
"Just a title I made up without much meaning."
"The lyrics kept mentioning promises too. Really?"
Unlike the faith-inspiring lyrics, 'ashen promise' didn't sound bright.
I shared my guesses with him.
Vow, contract, agreement.
His response: all three wrong.
"An oath I couldn't keep."
"An oath......"
Silence followed.
I didn't particularly want to end the conversation; I just had no words while rethinking the lyrics with this hint.
Delion, perhaps sensing it, spoke first.
I hadn't wanted to bring up this topic right away.
"Sorry."
"You and her both—why do you two always start with the same line?"
Delion trying to drive Sua out of the village.
Koon had told me—Delion's current goal.
I asked if it was true.
"......"
"......"
I learned that silence could mean affirmation depending on the situation.
In a moment demanding denial if false, he just lowered his head wordlessly.
"I despise adventurers. To death."
And he spat out the truth.
Delion's hostility wasn't limited to Sua.
"......You know I'm an adventurer, right?"
"I consider you an exception, Earthbound Spirit."
I wondered if it was just special treatment, but he had reasonable grounds.
Ones I couldn't refute.
"You're closer to us than adventurers, Earthbound Spirit. In the way you live...... things like that."
"Still, I think I've kept my adventurer identity."
"Think back. Haven't you been called 'Earthbound Spirit' more often than 'adventurer'?"
The villagers saw me not as an adventurer, but simply as one person: Earthbound Spirit.
Not that I wasn't an adventurer, but to them, I wasn't 'just an adventurer'.
"The fireworks are really pretty. So many colors."
No ashen among them.
Fireworks shine, after all.
While everyone was absorbed in the fireworks.
But I had to hear it.
"So, why do you hate adventurers?"
"......"
I needed to hear the reason from Delion.