Opening Notes
Fifth Day of the Third Month
"Septon Barth, no relation, other than a goodly interest in learning and wisdom," the young man opens the door of the sept with a smile, not the least troubled by your foreign accoutrements. If anything, he instead looks curious. The soft smokey glow of tallow candles fills the modest sept, light flickering over the weathered features of the Seven clearly painted over and touched up time and again with uneven skill but unflagging dedication. Only the seven pointed star on the far side of the room is wrought of stained glass, casting what little light can slip though the clouds into seven colors upon the altar.
"Buttercup the Bard at your service, if you're of a mind to indulge a weary singer's tales and offer guesting for the night. For all my days on the road, a day like this one," you proclaim with a bow so elaborate it would come around to being comical anywhere outside of Volantis.
After your companions had also introduced themselves, Dany as your apprentice and Xor as a tinkerer you met on the road and struck up a friendship with, the septon turns back to you with lively interest and asks, "What business have you in this corner of the realm in these unsettled times, if that is, it wasn't to enjoy the weather while the Summer lasts?"
"I'd heard of your fair town and hoped to make a song of it," you begin. "As it so often happens with the best songs, the first verses caught up to me already when I was least expecting it, but that's a tale for another time." You pause and take a quick look around, as though searching for eavesdroppers. You gingerly pull out the lute of building from its oiled case like the arcane treasure it is. The strings catch and hold the candlelight as if on fire, making no secret of its magic even to untrained eyes.
"That's an uncommon lute you have there, stranger," Septon Barth notes, the words not quite a question in case you are not minded to reply.
"Aye, a voice fine enough to mend what was broken and build that which exists only in the mind. I'll not be paying my stay with song and tale alone, if you and your neighbors don't mind the sorcery," you reply, setting your hand to the strings with skill born of magic and foresight itself. "Had a
bit of myself on me, but never something like this beauty."
"Best just tell the story, master," Dany interjects. "I know you have to bite your tongue against it, and I bet the good septon here doesn't have many kind words to say about Tywin Lannister and his thugs."
"Ah, fine, pull on my tongue like a bell clapper why don't you?" You shake your head with a smile of fond exasperation of the sort you have had plenty of chance to use on Dany. You string a few notes then start to sing softly so as not to be heard past the heavy oaken doors behind you yet. In song and verse you tell the tale of 'finding' your lute in the possession of a few Golden Shield mages and Lannister knights who had supposedly taken up robbery on the road under the guise of dealing with dragonmen.
"...'T ain't no shame in taking off a thief.
Was just clearing off the lord's fief."
"He should pay me extra for my trouble really."
You conclude the last whispered verse to a brief moment of silence before the septon, now looking worried for the first time since you passed his threshold, asks, "You don't think you've been followed do you, master singer?"
"No trace, no track, no raven's shadow," you borrow an old Reacher saying to obfuscate where Buttercup may have sprung from. "To tell the truth, though, I'd heard told they were planning to do worse things and blame it on dragonmen."
The young Septon's eyes go wide in shock. "You don't think...?" He looked you up and down, then nodded firmly. "Sing your song for us, master Buttercup... louder this time."
You are more than happy to oblige. Buttercup, after all, does not miss the chance to put on a show, and if it's one that mocks your enemies at every turn, well, that just adds to the fun. By the time the sun is setting still unseen behind the clouds, the rebuilding is well under way and good cheer was had by all to go with the music as you lead an parade of cheering locals through the streets.
Unsurprisingly, someone had sent a messenger to the keep and Lord Wylde had found his way down to meet the singer with the magic lute.
How do you conclude your performance and where do you go next?
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OOC: I hope this does no feel rushed. I did not want to linger here so that Buttercup can actually live up to his reputation as a wanderer. Not yet edited.
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