The Bard

There was great strength in this one. The bard could almost taste the dragon scent pouring off Ardvan. He was extremely agitated and it was clear he was not in control of his emotions. One look at the prince was all it took to realize he was on the verge of attacking. The bard knew that his first note had to be perfect. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then he closed his eyes and began to play.

He strummed a deep vibrant base note and let it ring free as he quickly fingered some lighter notes to brighten the prince’s mood. He did not want to manipulate too much so he ended his first verse in a minor key. He wanted the prince to maintain his dragon strength but lose the uncontrollable anger. There was so much potential in him if he could only learn to control his emotions. Adrvan’s eyes widened as the bard continued to play—the prince seemed to be aware of the bard’s manipulation but he did not shut off his mind. It was going well; he could see the princes face beginning to relax as he tapped his thumb, trying to keep time with the unusual tune. The music was focused on the prince but it was having an effect upon the Chosen as well. All of them had begun to lean forward; they were no longer backing away defensively. It made sense that this music would reach them too as their lives were intertwined with the prince. He wondered if they could sense the change that was happening as Ardvan’s anger began to ebb away.

Ardvan’s scent remained strong, but it no longer ignited terror in the hearts of the men around him. Now the Chosen were looking up at their prince with open admiration and awkward smiles on their faces. The Chosen were a group that were not used to smiling and the looks of warmth and kindness that they were showing their prince rested awkwardly upon their deeply scarred and rough faces.

The bard caught glimpses of the men moving closer as he continued to play. Now he was playing a song of strength, loyalty and honor. It woke long lost childhood dreams of great acts of courage, rescues of the needy and carefree days of sun and laughter. The lives of all the men in this room had been filled with disappointment and compromise and he wanted to fill them with new hope and strength. Ardvan’s demeanor was now completely changed, he no longer held any residual anger, his eyes were clear, and the deep trouble they had held was gone. However, Ardvan scent still spoke of power, the men were ignited with a passion to serve him, fight for him, and die for him. This was a feeling of loyalty that did not stem from deep fear but from a deep feeling of trust. Some of the men were now crying openly as they struggled with feelings they had never felt before.

The song the bard was playing was a masterpiece; it had never been played before because it was newly written and was merely reflecting the deep longing hidden within the hearts of the men in the room. All of the men were now able to see themselves for what they could be; they felt transported to new levels of personal understanding and an understanding of their place in the world around them. None of the men had any real skill or training in how to block their minds from the bard and he now had them fully in his control. He could get them to do anything. He could see it in their eyes. The prince’s loyalty had been won and the men were ready to follow him anywhere. With that knowledge the bard resolved his song in a major chord and bowed deeply to the prince, “From your reaction, I take it you are not to be the Crown Prince. What a pity.”

The bard looked up to see the prince’s reaction. Ardvan face broke into a warm smile and he laughed, “No, I guess it was not meant to be.”