The singing of a bard possesses the power to heal the human heart.
As a general support class, basic skills such as “Inspiration,” “Battlefield Encouragement,” and “Morale Boost” are compulsory courses for all bards. However, out of ten professional bards, perhaps only one can barely master these basics. This is because a bard’s promotion does not rely on the mastery of their skills; they can level up simply by accumulating enough mana. Among all classes, the bard has the lowest difficulty for advancement.
But at the same time, bards who neglect their professional skills—or simply have none at all—are a dime a dozen. Over time, this profession became associated in the public eye with “amateur troupes,” and most of the time, they are not considered respectable.
Green, naturally… was not among the diligent minority who trained their bardic skills. In fact, the “gold content” of Green’s bardic profession was even lower than most. At least others had mana that met the standard, but Green? His bard level was a mere Level 8, a literal “blank slate.”
Yet, Green’s performance was exceptionally brilliant, touching the heart deeply. With just a few words, he left the audience intoxicated. The entire atmosphere of the tavern shifted; the patrons, who had been trembling in fear moments ago, now focused all their attention on him. It was as if, at this moment, even the dignity of the supreme Imperial Princess and the cruel laws of the Empire’s rigid hierarchy no longer held meaning.
Everything in the world had come to a standstill; only Green’s singing remained in motion. That thin, raspy, low voice, which sounded neither pleasant nor friendly, deeply moved everyone present. Regardless of gender, age, wealth, or status. Even the stout, short owner, who spent his days obsessing over ledgers and calculating every copper, looked up for once to listen closely to the singing of the “third-rate” bard he had once looked down upon.
Green successfully achieved the feat that countless colleagues could not: captivating the audience.
“The caged bird strikes again and again, striking until its head is bloodied and its feathers fly, yet it fails to weaken the cage by even a fraction.”
Green pulled the strings of his lyre, plucking another melody. In truth, not just his voice, but even his playing technique could not be called top-tier; it was merely functional. But every patron’s gaze remained locked onto him—or more accurately, locked onto the little bird trapped in the cage, a bird that had a stable life and regular food but was withering away: the protagonist of Green’s song.
A story is just a story, yet it is not merely a story. This was Green’s secret to drawing everyone in—he wasn’t singing about a bird, but about everyone sitting there, about a part of themselves. In this mortal world, who isn’t a caged bird? Who doesn’t long for freedom? Yet, due to external constraints and the mockery of a heartless fate, how many are truly fortunate enough to obtain so-called freedom? Even as a high princess or an Imperial Emperor, who could guarantee it?
People read stories essentially to experience different versions of themselves. Thus, Green’s performance was destined to resonate with the majority.
Of course, Green’s real trick for attracting the entire audience was his Legendary-tier consciousness. Although different professional paths vary greatly, there is enough overlap in fundamental areas to allow for cross-disciplinary insight. As a dual-Legendary class holder, even if he couldn’t directly use his other professional experiences for his bardic skills, displaying the effect of a mid-to-high-level bard was effortless.
Ting~~
In the moment the audience was entranced, completely immersed in the world Green had created, he unhesitatingly opened his throat, using a near-roar to bring the story to a close.
“Finally, the bird, striking at its predetermined fate, broke open the cage with one last burst and flew toward the longed-for blue sky. Awaiting it was a fate, whether beautiful or tragic, unknown.”
Jingle-ling—
The song ended. Green put away his harp and bowed deeply.
The room was pin-drop silent. The various people in the tavern savored Green’s performance; all the clamor and noise seemed washed away by the song, leaving only confused souls beneath their various guises.
Clap. Clap-clap-clap!
A burst of applause followed.
“Truly magnificent! I never expected to hear such a remarkable performance in a border town like ours.” “Hey, did you see? Even Her Imperial Highness seemed to appreciate Green’s performance!” “Does that mean our offense from earlier can be wiped clean? I had a brother who was thrown into a cell by the security team just for offending a noble’s butler, and he hasn’t been released since.”
As the story ended, people woke from the fictional scene and began to recall the busy reality of the world.
“This story… is indeed quite interesting.”
Unlike the other country bumpkins who had seen little of the world, the Seventh Princess Theresa, who was of noble birth and accustomed to life’s luxuries, was not easily moved. However, her somewhat haughty face softened slightly, and the mask of cold apathy receded, leaving behind a vivid, genuine expression.
“Mr. Singer.”
Theresa did not address Green as a bard, but instead equated him with other ordinary singers. This wasn’t strange; a “bard” who wasn’t even Level 10 was essentially no different from those busking in the streets. In fact, Green wasn’t even registered with the Adventurer’s Guild—he didn’t have the full silver coin required for the processing fee.
“I happen to be in need of a private singer to sing a few tunes and relieve my boredom.” Theresa stood up with great sincerity and asked Green personally, “I wonder if you would be willing to accept this position?”
A private singer? Well, given the extravagant atmosphere of the Imperial upper class, hiring a private singer was indeed reasonable. Green was in no hurry to respond; he just looked with a smile at the tavern owner, who was standing to the side, mouth agape, shocked by Green’s “sudden rise to the top.”
Although he would just be a singer, in the current decaying state of the Empire, any commoner who could establish even a slight connection with nobility could enjoy a life several times better than before. The saying, “As long as one can receive a noble’s favor, even being a dog is a job people would line up ten times around the city for,” was not an exaggeration.
But Green didn’t care. He simply flipped through the ledger in the owner’s hand and found his corresponding entry. “Boss, how much was my performance today worth?”
“This… this…” The owner looked at Green, wanting to cry but having no tears.
Didn’t you see Her Imperial Highness looking at us expectantly? She is the commander of the border fortress! Theoretically, she governs this town; she can decide the life or death of every commoner here with a single word. At this critical moment, you’re asking me how much your performance is worth?
“I don’t have much money on me,” Theresa said, seemingly misunderstanding that Green’s silence was a tactic to negotiate terms. After a moment of thought, she increased the offer. “But I have more than enough to support a singer. One hundred gold coins a year. What do you think?”
One hundred gold coins?! The tavern owner gasped. This price was almost enough to buy a detached villa with a garden in town.
“I’m sorry,” Green said with a slight shake of his head. “But as you can see, I am a man of casual habits.”
Shaking the lyre in his hand, Green said nonchalantly, “Just like the bird in my song… compared to a comfortable life in a cage, I long more for the free blue sky outside.”
“But the bird in your story, even if it flies out of the cage, likely won’t survive a single winter, will it?” the Princess raised an eyebrow and countered.
“Perhaps.” Seeing that the owner still hadn’t responded, Green simply picked up the quill on the table and struck out his debt in the ledger. “But at least, it lived as a free bird before it died, didn’t it?”
Faced with Green’s answer, Theresa fell silent. Yes. Wasn’t that exactly what she had just been thinking? Perhaps the road ahead was blurred, but at least she had once fought to save this crumbling Empire.
“Very well, I understand.” Theresa pondered for a moment before asking again, “Then, if I invite you to my office in my personal capacity to sing a few songs, what then?”
“Well,” Green smiled slightly, “that depends on the price you offer.”
Raven Town.
A grand diplomatic mission was marching toward the small town. The heavy armored knights leading the way looked majestic, shielding the ambassador’s luxurious carriage behind them.
Inside the carriage, the lady ambassador, dressed in a magnificent gown, showed none of the dignity representative of the continent’s strongest power. Instead, she peered cautiously around, as if a great, unspeakable secret were hidden within the cabin.
Finally, after confirming with extreme care that no one was paying attention to the interior, she whispered, “How… how could you be here?”
Inside the carriage, a stunning beauty dressed as a maid did not answer the ambassador’s question. She was preoccupied with a mirror, grooming herself, showing absolutely no self-awareness of being a “maid.”
“I found him.”
The “maid” answered the ambassador nonchalantly. She adjusted the mirror again, appearing extraordinarily concerned about her current appearance.
“Him?” The ambassador blinked, and then, as if realizing something, she froze. “You mean… that… that gentleman?”
“Yes, Anna.” The maid used the ambassador’s real name without any honorifics. “My moles embedded in the Adventurer’s Guild provided quite a bit of intel. Among them was a candidate nominated as a special consultant by the Raven Town branch this year.”
“His name is… Green.”
In the mirror, the maid’s bright violet pupils erupted with a spark of excitement. Like a cat that had caught a mouse, she parted her lips and giggled greedily. “This time, I won’t let you run