34. Casimine
Casimine
Casimine had paused, right on cue, and was taking those precious few seconds to gather his next breath when the air shifted.
The sudden burst of arcane energy—a deep, dark swirling blue that took the form of a gate directly behind Ameriden caught Casimine off guard.
He nearly choked on his own tongue as a pair of armed warriors suddenly came through.
The spell he had cast to amplify his voice was suddenly broken, his connection to his magic suddenly cut as he stared in disbelief.
He didn’t recognize the armor, but the gleaming metal had a distinctive shade of blue that was familiar. Not that it really mattered in the moment as the pair of warriors quickly became four, then eight, then—
“Is this part of the show?” a noble questioned from the front of their makeshift stage.
Casimine very much wished whatever was happening was a part of the show, but he highly doubted that Seira would have invested so much given what she paid for the last minute tailor work.
He was on the verge of shooting a look of question in her direction when his heart suddenly stopped.
One of the warriors—a captain or some authority figure perhaps, given his dark blue cloak—had moved right in front of Ameriden.
“Prince Navin,” the leader said, voice far too stern and authoritative for Casimine’s liking, “For absconding from the Consort Trials you are hereby ordered to to return to the Pernimas Dynasty where you will be judged by Emperor Krinun. Any attempts to evade capture will be—”
Before the man could finish his sentence, a fist suddenly cut him off.
It took Casimine a moment to realize the fist belonged to Ameriden, who was now positioned between the stranger and the princess.
A collective gasp echoed throughout the chamber—Casimine included—at the unexpected violence.
The trained bard in him warned that punching someone while performing was not good for their image, but Casimine promptly told that part of himself to drop dead because there was clearly more pressing matters at hand!
Questions began to swarm in the crowd, guests looking around nervously. Out of the corner of Casimine’s eye, he could see the guards taking defensive stances and the king—
“You can tell your emperor that I’m not interested in attending court,” Ameriden snarled. “And if he wanted me to come so badly, he should have sent a formal invitation!”
How Ameriden was tied to the Pernimas Dynasty was a question for a later time.
Casimine could already see the leader recovering from the punch, moving to stand tall and proud.
While he was very concerned for Ameriden’s well being, his partner wasn’t entirely defenseless either.
However, the princess was, and what it would mean for them if something were to happen to her was more important in the moment.
Casimine closed the distance, stepping in front of the princess who was eyeing the whole scene with wide, frightened eyes.
“Forgive the interruption to your party, Princess Osonia,” Casimine said over his shoulder. “But it would perhaps be better for you to leave this instance…for your father’s sake at least—”
A quick flash of silver and Casimine instinctively pushed the princess back before he realized what was happening.
Instead of a sword aimed at the local royalty, a dagger was now pressed against one of the warriors’ shoulder.
Attached to said dagger was a pale, gaunt man in all red with a look of pure aggression twisting his handsome features.
“Sir Justyan!” the princess shrieked in recognition.
Hearing the princess was what finally set the entire gala into motion.
Women started screaming, armor started clattering as guards began to rush the stage.
An explosion of fear, panic, and uncertainty had overtaken the room and all Casimine could do was pull the princess to the edge of the stage into the waiting arms of two guards.
“Go, take her to safety!” Casimine shouted.
The guards didn’t have to be told twice, clearing space to usher her away while she shouted for her Sir Justyan.
Out of the corner of his eye, Casimine could see the king moved to meet them, before being pulled away.
By the time Casimine turned around, he was suddenly being pushed aside by a familiar body.
Tala landed side by side with him, concern clear in her panicked expression.
Where Casimine had once been standing was one of the warriors in blue armor.
“You okay?” Tala asked.
“Yeah,” Casimine lied. “What is happening?!”
“I have no fucking idea but stay down!” Tala commanded before peeling herself away from him.
Casimine couldn’t stop her even if he wanted to.
She was too fast, rolling onto her knees and charging into the messy fray.
He had been witness to enough bar fights during their early days on the road, but there was no backstage to retreat to.
The clash of weapons and armor echoing throughout the chamber as combat—real combat—was enclosing all around him.
His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, and sweat broke out along his temple.
The bravery he had displayed earlier was for self preservation.
Casimine wasn’t brave, he was just a bard.
The overwhelming helplessness was back, raising the memories he had tried desperately to bury.
The sounds—the rush of bodies weren’t the same as the ones of his fans in that room, but his body didn’t know that.
His body—his body was trembling despite all his efforts to keep the sensation at bay.
His body—his body, and no one else’s—was frightened and despite the tremors, Casimine was somehow frozen on the ground of the stage.
Snap out of it.
Snap out of it!
Snap down!
Get down!
GET DOWN!
He immediately dropped his body back down as spear sailed past the spot his head had been.
The realization of how close he’d been from a fatal injury nearly made him feel faint.
Once again, the innate divination that had been passed onto him from his mother had saved his life.
It was sobering, shaking the anxious panic for something more solid.
What was he doing laying here on the ground?
Casimine would never claim to be any of the heroes he sang about, but all good stories had a little embellishment to them.
He wasn’t a fighter the way Tala or Ameriden was, but he could still do something.
“Guards! We need more guards!” a voice cried somewhere below the stage.
Casimine kept low to the ground, eyeing the scene in front of him.
He spotted Sir Justyan first, his deep red cloak a mess around his shoulders as he pushed back against one of the warriors with nothing but the hilt of his dagger.
Sir Justyan gained the upper hand, putting enough distance between his shoulder and the warrior’s sword.
Casimine lost track of him once another set of combating warriors filled his view.
Amer. Tala. Where are—there!
Near the back of the stage where the arcane gate still stood were the two loves of his life.
Standing back to back, Ameriden with his large fists and Tala with two ends of a broken spear in each hand.
Both of them had the audacity to wear cocksure grins—like they were in the middle of a brawl competition and not fighting for their lives.
Typical, Casimine thought as he crawled past an unconscious guard. But even if they beat these unknown warriors, that gate will just let more in.
Bard college didn’t really go over arcane history outside of, well, bards.
There was a reason why bard’s weren’t put into the same category as arcanists.
The later were intellectuals, consumed with theory and possibility.
They studied entire libraries in their pursuit of greater, more powerful magics.
Arcanists were both brilliant and incredibly dangerous when their ethics weren’t completely sound.
Bards were trained in the arts—poetry, music, theater, and the ability to hold the attention of a crowd with little to no—
That’s it!
A moment was spared judging the space—the spell in his mind only extended so far, but if he could just get into the right position, there was a chance he could cast it on everyone.
Casimine shot to his feet, maneuvering through the clashing warriors with the aide of his dance training and narrowly missing a sword.
At some point, Tala spotted him, her eyes widening in surprise before disarming her opponent.
“What are you doing?!” Tala shouted across the impromptu battlefield. “I told you to keep your head down!”
She was sweating, her hair was falling apart, and most of her half skirt had completely fallen to the wayside.
Naturally, she was incredibly charming in the moment, even if she was rushing to catch her breath.
Ordinarily, Casimine would reply with something charming and teasing, but in the moment he was preoccupied with making sure he reached his destination safely.
“Just going for a stroll, dear heart!” Casimine said before letting out a tiny yelp when one of the blue armored men fell directly in front of him.
“Casi, are you crazy?!” Ameriden shouted, him being the one to knock the soldier down a second ago. “Get off the stage and get—”
“We are going to have a serious conversation about this—if we survive this, you beautiful asshole,” Casimine sniped as he hopped over the unconscious man. “Oh, on your left, my love.”
Ameriden fell hard to his right and dodged the incoming blow of a spear that had been knocked out of range of its intended target.
Similarly to Tala, Ameriden also was gorgeously disheveled.
He had shrugged off his cloak and managed to roll up his sleeves, revealing his dark cyan forearms with every swing he took—
Not now, Casimine hummed to himself.
Seeing that he had no intention of listening to either of them, Ameriden and Tala naturally began to follow.
Water Mother knew Casimine appreciated it, as they kept the path clear and drew more of the fight within Casimine’s orbit.
By the time he reached his destination and checked to see where the battle had moved, he was pleasantly pleased to see everyone was close enough—even as they all furiously fought tooth and nail to get the upper hand.
“Time to slow things down,” Casimine said.
Reaching toward his throat, the magic that lay there grew warm with Casimine’s intention. The familiar swirl of magic that helped amplify his singing ignited, ensuring that when Casimine spoke next, the entire hall would hear him.
Which—if this works—will be very, very good.
Casimine planted his feet firmly on the ground, placing one hand over the center of his chest and the other at the base of his throat. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply—
“Casi!” Ameriden grunted. “What—”
“Stop.”
Not a whisper, not a shout, but the word boomed into the halls as magic quickly followed.
A wave of purple arcane energy expanded from Casimine’s body, catching everyone on the stage and the immediate crowd within the hall.
For a split second Casimine worried that the spell hadn’t taken until he realized how quiet it was.
Tentatively, Casimine opened his eyes, unsure of what to expect, but what awaited him was a sight to behold.
A guard was poised to strike his spear through the small opening of the warrior’s armor between his arm and torso, but he was no longer moving.
Casimine saw similar positions from the others around him, some strikes readying to be fatal, others with the intention of knocking their opponent out cold.
But every single person that had been able to hear Casimine’s voice had stopped.
Gildeon Almond’s ability to command a crowd was said to be legendary when Casimine was a student in college.
He could hold an entire theater captive with a simple roll of his tongue, bringing crowds to their feet in praise and admiration.
A lot of it was because Gildeon Almond was a skilled bard who had honed his craft over centuries.
The other reason, was that in desperate measures, a bard could rely on an old trick.
It wasn’t something to use frequently as it’s effect wore off faster and faster with frequent use.
But if a bard was desperate, a good old-fashioned manipulative compulsion could do the trick.
The show must go on, after all, Casimine thought as he stepped between the still Ameriden and Tala.
“Now, what am I going to do with the two of you?”