Chapter 532

Chapter 532 The Penniless Poet

In the days that followed, the group continued to explore the small town but found nothing of note.

They also hired a local guide.

“I am a poet from a distant land. I wish to write some stories to commemorate this journey. Are there any legends about this town?”

On a low hillside, Edlund said this to the guide beside him, while Margaret and Alice sat on the other side, preparing picnic food.

There was bread, meat rolls, and two bottles of light beer, with the guards standing not far behind.

The guide wore a simple gray single-layer robe with rolled-up sleeves. His rough hands held a wooden staff used to clear weeds. Though his clothes were simple and worn white from washing, they were clean, which was why the group hired him.

He thought for a moment and replied, “Sir Edward, I can’t think of anything specific. I grew up here, but I haven’t heard any local legends. Even if there are any, they are probably common tales of lovers parting ways.”

“Is that so.” Edward sighed, seeming somewhat disappointed.

“Then, what’s new in the town recently? It seems very peaceful here.”

“New things… Let me think. Several trade caravans arrived during the Beer Festival, some even from Clancia.”

“Oh, go on.”

“Well, as you see…” He began to describe his observations, but the others listening didn’t find anything noteworthy.

“Anything else?” Edward flicked a silver coin into the guide’s palm.

It was evident that the nobleman was getting tired of such news about the caravans. The guide thought for a moment and added more recent gossip about who had become wealthy, who had quarreled, and whose children had suddenly excelled.

Unfortunately, none of these interested the group. Gradually, they realized they wouldn’t get much useful information and started their picnic. The guide and the nearby guard each received two loaves of bread and stood by eating.

“Delicious, Alice,” Margaret placed a pastry in the young lady’s hand, watching her eat it in small bites.

“It’s delicious, thank you, sister.”

“In fact, you could call me sister-in-law now. Your Margaret sister would be even happier, ha ha,” Edward teased.

“Mmm, Master Edlund, don’t tease me,” Alice replied, kneeling on a white cloth, eating a small roll.

“Dear, I’ve always loved Alice. Having such a lovely younger sister is truly a blessing,” Margaret leaned against Edward’s shoulder, whispering sweet nothings typical of newlyweds.

After touring the hills and fields behind the town, the three returned to their inn for the night.

After entering the room to rest, Black Bull descended the stairs. He wasn’t carrying a sword and seemed much more approachable than during the day.

The ground floor was where everyone ate and drank.

, as these days are holidays, it’s quite lively here at night.

“Barkeep, do you have any large glasses of strong liquor? Bring me three,” Big Steps sat at the bar counter and shouted, his voice so loud that it could be heard on the first floor.

“Coming up, please wait a moment.”

The barkeeper replied, settled the bill for the guests in front, and quickly approached him. He took out three large cups from under the table, filled them one by one, and placed them under the wine barrel. As he opened the tap, the clear liquid flowed into the cups.

Foam overflowed from the full cups, wetting the table slightly, and a fragrant scent of wheat spread, making the smell of alcohol in the first floor even stronger.

Gulp, gulp, gulp—

After downing the three cups, Black Ox took a deep breath, looking very satisfied, which made those around him eager to try and order some strong liquor too.

“At last, I feel better. Drinking those light drinks every day has no taste at all. Barkeep, bring me a big plate of meat. Understand? Meat, and plenty of it,”

“Understood, please wait a moment. I’ll go to the kitchen and tell them, also—” He made a gesture everyone knew.

“There’s plenty.” Several clinking sounds of gold and silver coins fell onto the old wooden table.

“Alright.”

Seeing this, the barkeeper quickly headed to the kitchen, and many guests on the first floor turned their gazes towards him, their eyes showing envy, greed, and jealousy.

“You, come over here.” Black Ox pointed casually at someone nearby. This person seemed to be a wandering bard, telling common clichéd stories before Black Ox arrived, holding an old and simple lute, occasionally playing off-key notes.

“Sing something nice.” Black Ox threw a silver coin towards him.

The poor poet stretched out his hands, catching the sudden windfall in shock, but quickly regained his composure.

He sat up straight, as if transforming into a professional right then and there.

“What would you like to hear?”

“Tsk, do I really need to think about it? Just play directly, I’ll say if it’s good or not,” Black Ox turned around, resting one of his thick hands on the bar counter, and looked at the man.

“Alright.” The poor wandering bard plucked the strings and began to sing.

“When I saw the violet wither away, when I saw the beautiful face fade” His tone was exaggerated and emotional, like a rooster crowing.

“Change it.” A harsh interruption came from the side, as Black Ox boredly tapped the table with his fingers.

As if his neck had been gripped by a strong hand, the wandering bard’s words abruptly stopped.

After a few seconds of silence, he started playing another tune.

“In the vast wilderness under the sky, a youth rides a white horse like the wind, he is the eagle among birds, the lion among beasts”

“Change!”

Everyone was tired of the legends of love and moonlight; who didn’t know the story of Roland, the King of White Horses?

“When four hundred thousand holy spears stand on the mountain peak, rushing down, the dense hoofbeats sound like—”

“Change!”

The stories in the Book of Candles are more suitable for churches.

“The young lady with silver bells on her feet, her voice as delicate as dew in the morning light.”

“Change!”

After being stopped several times in a row, the poet’s face turned red, and there was a chorus of jeers from the surrounding crowd. Everyone watched as this fellow made a fool of himself.

“What style does this esteemed person wish to hear?” he cautiously looked at this strong guest.

“None of that highbrow stuff, I want something down-to-earth.” The black bull said like this.

“Alright, let me think about it.”

After pondering for a while, the poet struck up his lute again.

“It was to stop the widow’s tears from falling that I rose and went to her side.”

Finally, no one interrupted. The guests in the inn listened with great interest. The story wasn’t complicated; it told of the affair between a beautiful widow and a strong hunter, interwoven with subtle eroticism, leaving much to the imagination.

“Good, this story is quite nice.”

“I didn’t expect him to have such skills. Why hasn’t he ever mentioned it before?”

“Exactly, it’s just right. By the way, do we have any widows around here?” The speaker revealed a mischievous smile everyone understood, and a wave of knowing laughter echoed around.

“Now I’m not sleepy anymore. I heard…” A group of people began talking one after another about the romantic affairs in the town.

Most were nothing but stories of someone secretly seeing someone else, or someone else wearing the horns, and so forth, with nothing particularly eye-catching, until—

“I haven’t seen Jinna, that charming girl, recently. Her figure is quite appealing.”

“You might as well forget about it. I heard she’s already with Priest Mathew.”

“Priest Mathew is only in his early twenties, isn’t he? I remember he was just a regular cultivator a couple of years ago.”

“Yes, but he passed the Holy Land’s assessment last year and received an official badge.”

“He has great prospects. Should we try to curry favor with him? I heard Old Priest Reese is about to retire.”

“Why bother? He’s just a small priest. We have plenty in our Holy Land.”

“But I haven’t seen Priest Mathew around these past few weeks.”

“Yeah, neither have I seen Jinna. Could it be…”

“Could they have eloped? Hahaha.”

“Hahaha, how could that be? I think he went back home to get married.”

A few people laughed heartily. Next to them, the black bull ate the meat on his plate and smiled faintly.