5:21 The persistent bard.

 The morning chill in the air roused Seyashen, who was only recently becoming accustomed to sleep that was actually restful.  He blinked a few times, taking in the change in scenery around him- the road had lost all paving, although it was marked well enough.  The proud stone homes of the larger city he'd left had been replaced by much smaller, wooden cottages.  A few were painted, but the colours seemed to speak more to some type of treatment against fire, rot, or vermin than actual decoration.  Just as the hornless Tiefling began to search the back of his mind for any memory that would give him any clues as to the paint's nature, a very purposeful clearing of the throat sounded beside him.  He turned and saw a man, apparently Human, dressed in dusty finery.  His packs, both oddly-shaped and sitting between his feet, were obviously well made, but patched in quite a few places.  The man himself sported no scars that Seyashen could readily notice, and did not give off the faint warmth of arcane magical potential.  The Tiefling wondered if perhaps he was looking at either a divine spellcaster, or a naturalist.

"A penetrating gaze you have, ser," the Human smiled genuinely.  "You have here the fine town of Arabel- home to masterful traders, hard working herders, wood shapers, and strong guards, I do assure you.  What's brought you?"

Seyashen nodded slowly as if any such people mattered to him.  "A pilgrimage," he finally answered, unable to think of anything more believable.

The Human's smile didn't fade a bit.  "I suppose I deserve such a careful answer; you do me honour to traffic with me before I offered any of my own wares, as it were.  My name is Philo; born and raised here, but wandered quite some ways away until lately.  I suppose I too could say that I am on pilgrimage, for is not the aim of all such journeys the veneration of saints and relics?  Well, the saints of my devotion are the keepers of histories, and the relics holy to me are the flute, lute, and lyre."

Seyashen nodded again, this time at a complete loss for anything to say at all.

"I am to perform at the Weary Knight, if you'd like to hear any of the blessings my wanderings have earned me," Philo offered.  "I shall rest there for a while before heading farther north.  Or perhaps south.  Or toward or away from the morning horizon- you see, I go wherever I am bid by the fanciful gods."

Still at a loss, Seyashen hummed and nodded, wishing that he were as capable of ending a conversation with a living being as most dead beings were at ending them with him.  They never chatted on longer than they had to, even if they were friendly.  They manifested, dropped their various messages over his head like so many loose potatoes, and then either melted into mist or simply walked away.  A few were more dramatic, rattling furniture or spooking nearby animals as they went, but absolutely none bothered with what mortals considered etiquette.

"I wonder, ser, if you've not had your full health recently?" Philo asked.  He lowered his tone and scooted slightly closer to Seyashen on the cart's bench, as though he were making an effort to keep Seyashen's reply confidential.

Seyashen raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, now, come ser," Philo chided gently.  "It's not polite to answer a question with a question."

Seyashen got a grip on himself and gave an uneasy chuckle.  "Well, I suppose that's so, where you're from."

"That's... common knowledge," Philo laughed gently.  "Everywhere I've ever been, actually."

Seyashen noted the absence of a question.  It felt to him like the charged moment before a lightning strike, or the tenuous stillness before the pounce of a predator.  And just that quickly, the awareness of the predator, the energy of the lightning, filled his being from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head.  He felt himself begin to smile, and looked away from Philo, toward the fields and herds of Arabel.

For a few minutes, there was quiet between the two men.  However, Philo never moved farther away from Seyashen, and Seyashen allowed the sensation of potential energy to hum and stretch inside of himself.  He was much more alert, prepared, and calm when Philo broke the silence again- as he supposed he would.

"Place hasn't changed since I was a boy.  Beautiful, in an old, rustic kind of way.  It would be more affluent, had it not been razed by several battles and an occupation."

Seyashen didn't look at Philo.  "It rather reminds me of another city that has had to rise from its ashes more than once."

Philo made a very quiet noise of interest.  "Allow me to sweeten my invitation to the Weary Knight with a drink," he said kindly.  "Bards, as I hope to demonstrate, are good friends for those with inquisitive minds to have."

Seyashen slowly turned his golden gaze to Philo, and as he did, a familiar chill cooled the morning air still more, causing a few of the other cart passengers to pull shawls and cloaks closer around themselves.  Just over Philo's shoulder, Seyashen saw the faint phantom of a fully armed Human man, looking at the bard with an amused smile.  The type of smile that came with dearly held memories.

"You must be used to lively fellows," the Tiefling replied.   "I am not such a one- in fact, I make rather unpleasant company.  You won't make proper coin, if I'm anywhere around."

"Be kinder to yourself, good ser," Philo replied warmly, but very quietly.  "You're lively enough to have not finished a phylactery, I'd wager.  It's a fine thing, being mortal.  It's in my nature to tempt the likes of you into having a bit more fun at it."

Seyashen shrugged and turned his attentions back out to the landscape.  "You may as well say whatever it is you will say to me at full voice, Ser Bard.  The more careful I try to be, the more obvious I am."

"Reggius," Philo corrected, his smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.  "Philo Reggius.  And you're not the first man I've met with that... ahem... problem.  Bards provide excellent distraction; not only will I make coin just fine, I can make you less obvious, if you so wish, Ser Lich."

"Seyashen," the hornless Tiefling chuckled.  "I have no wish to try tales with a professional, or I'd trot out the rest of what I've been called these past few weeks.  You're correct in that I haven't quite gotten around to binding my soul to some tawdry bit of jewelry, but... I really do make poor conversation.  No fun at most parties."

"I'm certain you do have a way with words," Philo joked.  "Said words are... well... merely pronounced in colder climes, to a stiffer audience.  Yet, I am pleased to have earned your acquaintance.  I shall do my utmost not to repay you in regret."