Back again! This chapter introduces the aforementioned Welsh guy. Well, he's not actually from Wales, 'cuz Wales doesn't exist, but he's from a place like Wales. Just to clarify, this fic will mainly centre on Arthur, the Bard, a Physician and Penguin and any other people I come up with. But to be honest, Arthur is the best. Warning in advance: Sorry about the reeeeaaally bad lyrics. Probably not much better or worse than real medieval lyrics!

Arthur poked around in the docks for a bit but as dusk fell he decided it was time to see how good the drinks were here. The Club and Crossbow seemed to be a popular destination so he ambled off there, sword in its sheath and a pocket full of Simoles. It was warm and well-lit in here with a stage at the front and an ambience of booze. Arthur liked it already. He walked up to the counter.

"One ale, please," he asked.

"Half pint?" said the bartender, grinning. Arthur glared at him but received a whole pint all the same. He tossed the money at the bartender and went to take a seat near the stage. There was a young man about the same age as him in the corner, quietly tuning a lute. Perhaps he was a Bard? He had slick black hair that revealed two slightly pointed ears. Not nearly as pointy as an Elf's, so he must be…a Druid! Yes. He was a druid. Arthur sipped his drink and watched as the Bard boy carried his lute up onto the stage and tapped his foot. He played a near chord, which made a couple of people stop and look up. The Bard was playing now. It was a melancholy sounding tune, and soon the Bard opened his mouth and song came pouring out.

"There once was a boy,
From a far away place,
Such a handsome young lad,
And he came one day
From a place far away,
And in forest'y green he was clad," he sang. Truly that was a voice of a genius. No, not of a genius. Of a person who loved what they were doing. Arthur thought it was wonderful. He listened intently, ignoring all the other sounds that were beginning to die down in order to hear the Bard's tune.

"He took up the sword,
From his dead father's grave,
And set out to seek a fortune
His story told here
Around the good beer
And sang in a one truthful tune," it was a short song but it touched Arthur. He'd never been touched by music like that. He clapped the loudest as the Bard took a bow, beaming from hs boyish face.

"Thank you, thank you," he said. "I take it that we all know the Jig of Gentleman Jim? A shame there aren't more ladies in the room,"

"One extra," a voice called from the door. A young woman came in. She was wearing rather plainish brown robes that were made more interesting with a bright scarlet cape. She looked like a mage. Many people bowed their heads to her as she swanned in and took a glass of wine. Arthur watched her with a curious expression but listened to the Bard playing the far merrier Jig of Gentleman Jim. He got jostled about as people told him to move out of the way, but after an hour the Bard took a final bow and left the stage, disappearing upstairs. He came back down once the booze was flowing again and no one noticed him, apart from Arthur, who tapped his arm as he passed. The Bard turned to look at him.

"Yes?"

"I liked that first song you played. The rest were good, too, but that first one really turned something in me,"

"Thank you," the Bard smiled. "Here, I haven't seen you around before. What's your name, stranger?" he took the seat opposite him, still smiling.

"Arthur. I'm a new Knight up at the Barracks. You're the first person that's had a nice word to say to me since I got here,"

"Really? I hope that we haven't given you a bad impression. We here in Magic-Side are kind people, you know. I know all of these people relatively well. I could name every single one of them,"

"Who's the girl that came in after your first song? She looks like a hedge wizard,"

"A hedge wizard?" the Bard laughed. "That's Sorceress Penguin! She's famous!"

"She lives in the Wizard's Tower by the docks?"

"Who else would live there?"

"True. What was your name, by the way?"

"I'm Imp. Imp y Celyn,"

"…are you foreign too?"

"Yeah. You're lucky, when I first came here everyone laughed at my accent,"

"You don't have an accent,"

"Not any more I don't," he told him, before continuing in his accented voice. "Eye yoosed to, though, eye did," Arthur laughed while Imp rolled his eyes.

"See what I mean? That's why I speak in your accent. You should've heard the language some of the Llamedosian people spoke. About one vowel for every eight not-vowels. Contenants. Costenunts. Something like that. And before you give me that look, yes I can read. I can write too, so there,"

"Same. When some of the Guards were laughing at me I brought that at and a lot of them shut up,"

"No offence to you, but Guards aren't really hired for their intelligence,"

"You have to be if you're a Knight. There's a difference,"

"I'll take your word for it. Possibly the difference between being a Troubador and being a Minstrel? That's what I am now. Minstrel Imp, the Tavern Bard. How did you come to be here, Arthur?"

"My parents sent me to take my fortune. Apart from the dead father's grave bit you got my story down to a pinpoint in that song,"

"I wrote it myself. I'm glad you liked it,"
"What about you?"

"Oh…I've lived here for quite a long time. Ever since my parents died,"

"Orphans always do well,"

"No, they don't," Imp's tone suddenly went cold. "Those years were the worst of my life,"

"…sorry…" Arthur hoped that he hadn't offended his new friend. He needed one. Imp sighed.

"It's alright. Orphaned Bards are supposed to write and sing sad songs but I like the jolly ones too. That Jig of Gentleman Jim I was playing earlier is one of my favourites,"

"It is pretty fun. Will you play it again before I leave?"

"By Tavern rules if a customer requests a song they have to pay me. Sorry,"

"It's OK. Here," he handed over a few Simoles which Imp took graciously. While he counted them out Arthur asked another question. "Hey, if I asked the Sorceress for a dance would I get any luck?"

"Yes, but you'd be lucky with an 'un' in front of it. She's a very tough lady and she doesn't care for romance,"

"I'm not looking for romance! She's way older than me! I just wanted a dance,"

"Why not ask some of the other women? I'm not sure which ones are married or not,"

"I think the only other woman who's the same height as me is that scary-looking one that just came in,"

"Who?" Imp frowned and looked around.

"The one by the fireplace sharpening her sword," Arthur pointed. Imp said something in a funny language, which Arthur presumed must be Llamedosian.

"That's the Royal Spy, Lady. They say she's a vampire. Keep away from here, alright? You'd be better off with a wild bear,"

"Whoa, OK. I'll see if I can find someone. Go and play the song,"

"Very well," Imp stood up and went upstairs to get his lute before coming back down onto the stage. He didn't shout to get everyone's attention. He just played a few notes and sang. His singing made everyone stop talking and either sing along or dance or just listen. Arthur stood up and made his way across the room to the table where the Sorceress was sipping her wine.

"Uh, excuse me?" said Arthur. She looked up at him. She was quite pretty in her own way, with a cute upturned nose and charcoal eyes. Her cocoa brown hair was rather plain too, like her robes, but they were tipped with glittery silver.

"Yeah?" she said.

"Would you like to dance?"
"Are you new here or something? I don't dance, kid,"

"Then perhaps you would like to start, as courtesy to the Bard?"

"Deal with it,"

"Oh, uh, well then, OK…" he walked away, his face burning. So much for that idea. She wasn't that much older than him anyway. Only a couple of years. Why hadn't she taken a husband yet? Any woman should've taken a husband by the age of twenty, and though she hadn't reached that age yet most were married before that age. Oh well. It wasn't his business to know, so he listened to the rest of Imp's song and said his farewells before heading back up the hill to the Barracks.

Wooo, Imp! He's super awesome fun to write. I guess it's 'cause I can relate to him in some ways (in the fact that we both like to write stuff, not that my parents were eaten by a whale). Progress may be slowish, 'cause I'm in France. Which is not where I normally am.