A Ballad of Wandering Bard

The Red Bear camp was alive with chaotic energy as the bandits gathered their weapons and mounted their horses, eager for the raid ahead. The mood was a volatile mixture of greed, desperation, and bravado.

Krag, towering above the others, barked orders as he strode through the camp. "Grista! You'll lead the north group. Snatch, you take the west. Leave nothin' standin'." His gravelly voice cut through the clamor like an axe.

The other lieutenants snapped to attention, though not without their usual crude remarks.

Near the camp's edge, Corvin stood apart with his banner of subordinates, their expressions neutral but their hands firm on their weapons. Krag approached, his massive frame casting a long shadow.

"Last chance, Corvin," Krag rumbled, his voice almost diplomatic. "Join us and reap the spoils. Or stay here with your tail tucked between your legs like a coward."

Corvin didn't flinch. His calm gaze met Krag's fiery one as he replied, "No. I stand by what I said. Me and my men are no longer part of the Red Bear." He gestured to his soldiers around him. "As per our agreement, we haven't left this camp. We've spilled no secrets. This is your folly, not mine."

A growl rippled through the other lieutenants. Snatch stepped forward, his voice dripping venom. "Yer just a lily-livered runt with more bark than bite. Good riddance!"

Insults followed—jeers of coward, traitor, and worse hurled at Corvin and his men. But Corvin remained steadfast, his cool demeanor unshaken. He simply turned and walked away, his banner following in silent solidarity.

"Piss off, then!" Krag shouted after him. "We'll be drowning in coin by the time you're dead from hunger." The remaining bandits erupted in laughter as the Red Bear began their march toward Suntails Hollow.

…

That evening in Suntails Hollow, the warmth of the family hearth cast long shadows across the walls of the Highspire home. Dorian sat with his family, his almost fully red hair glowing in the firelight. Elira and Gorlan were sharing quiet smiles while little Selia dozed in her mother's lap.

Breaking the tranquil silence, Dorian spoke up. "I've been thinking. It's time for me to explore the world."

Elira froze, her smile fading into wide-eyed surprise. Gorlan furrowed his brow, leaning forward as though he hadn't heard correctly.

Selia stirred, blinking awake at her brother's words. "Explore? You're leaving?"

Dorian nodded, his hand resting briefly on the lute slung across his back. "I've been training for years, and I've grown strong enough to protect myself. The world is calling, and I want to answer."

His parents exchanged worried glances. Gorlan rubbed his temples while Elira's voice wavered. "But... why so soon? We thought you'd stay longer."

"I thought so too," Dorian admitted, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "But this village... it's prepared me for something greater. I can feel it."

Before Dorian could finish, a loud commotion shattered the moment. Screams and heavy footsteps filled the night air.

Dorian rushed to the window and peered out, his heart sinking. The Red Bear bandits stormed through the village, their weapons glinting in the dim light as they smashed doors and grabbed whatever they could carry. Villagers fled in panic, their shouts echoing into the night.

"It's like the royal requisition all over again," Gorlan muttered, his expression darkening.

A sharp voice rang through the chaos. "Oi! Stupid pig!"

Dorian's gaze snapped toward the square, where Lucas stood, flanked by a dozen hunters armed with bows and spears. Behind them were villagers with torches and farming tools, their faces set with grim determination.

The bandits paused, their initial excitement dampened by Lucas's bold presence. Krag, looming among the raiders, laughed loudly. "Well, ain't this cute? A bunch of bumpkins thinkin' they're knights."

"We don't think," Lucas replied, his voice even. "We protect."

Krag's grin widened as he gestured to his men. "Let's make an example of this one. Show these fools what happens when they fight back."

Grista and Snatch stepped forward, both sneering. "This'll be quick," Snatch muttered, drawing his blade.

Suddenly, a loud thunk echoed through the air. The sound of heavy wood shifting reverberated through the village.

"Khakhakhakhakhak! That's right!" Krag bellowed. "My men have closed yer gates! None of you lot are leavin' this hollow alive!"

But as he continued to laugh, another voice rang out clearly from the shadows.

"It wasn't your men who closed the gates."

Krag turned sharply, his laugh cutting off as he spotted Dorian stepping into the firelight. The young bard's lute glinted on his back, and his red-streaked hair shone in the flickering glow.

"What?" Krag snarled, his tone filled with confusion.

Dorian stopped, his green eyes meeting Krag's with a calm confidence. "You see, you're not trapping us in here with you." He paused, a faint smile curving his lips.

"You're trapped here with us."

His words hung in the air like the toll of a bell, rippling through the night. A murmur passed through the villagers and bandits alike, the palpable shift in energy silencing even the most arrogant of the Red Bear.

As Dorian unslung his lute, Lucas gripped his wooden sword tighter, and Ryssa appeared behind them, her staff glowing faintly with gathering magic. Bogo stepped into view as well, adjusting his tools with a determined smirk.

The people of Suntails Hollow stood together, unyielding in the face of the Red Bear's might.

———…———

"Oh, mother dear," the boy once cried,

"I yearn to see what lies outside.

The mountains tall, the rivers wide,

The stories hidden where myths abide."

———…———

**A/N**

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