Alertness

As a nation ruled by Spellcasters, the Tyron Empire had no resident who didn't know what Kobolds were.

But those dim-witted creatures did little more than squeal underground, and mages even used their scales as materials...

Could they really evolve into beings that studied magic?

It felt as absurd as a mage's bag of materials gaining a mind of its own, turning around, and casting Fireball at its master.

[I'd always wondered what role a Bard was supposed to play during an adventure.

Did he huddle in a corner singing battle songs while the party fought?

Or did he sing elegies and collect the bodies when someone died?

Experience taught me it was the latter.

After all, how was handing Jackal's corpse over to an Ochre Jelly to digest not collecting a body?

The corpse wouldn't rot out in nature, and the ooze got a full meal. Surely any environmentally minded druid would give me a medal.]

"Build up the danger with action, then ease the tension with self-deprecating humor... It really does read like a novel."

She could hardly tell invention from reality.

Then she spotted a crucial phrase—

[Art of Making Friends].

"How can that be? My mentor has lived for 120 years and still hasn't unraveled the magic within music..."

Geya coughed twice, nearly losing her voice.

Unlike mages, who studied the Magic Web and laid out formulas to cast spells, Bards were more like sorcerers. They searched inward for a power uniquely their own, whether it came from bloodline or talent.

And the methods that helped Bards sense Music Magic had long been lost as the Poet Academy declined.

If the Journal's author was telling the truth, his very existence was an invaluable treasure.

The Journal's account sounded utterly convincing.

And as the "graveyard of the world," the Stone Tablet had always represented historical truth.

Geya could deny none of it:

"There's actually a real Bard in this world?"

Could it be that he hadn't come from the Poet Academy at all?

Had he inherited the legacy of some legendary Bard of the past and begun wandering the continent as a free Bard?

That had to be it.

The Journal's author was exceptionally alert to danger. He had spotted the clue in the footprints, proving his powers of observation far exceeded those of ordinary people—

Certainly those of a formally trained student like her, who only knew how to write manuscripts and sing poems.

But she yearned to become a Bard like that.

She wanted to remain independent even when she set aside her appearance.

Geya grew ever more curious about the author's experiences—

[When I realized this Kobold might be the smartest member of the group, it suddenly struck me that humanity might be doomed.]

[Still, I did see through its plan, even if luck and accident played a part. By comparison, maybe there's hope for us yet?]

[Wait. Why am I seriously comparing myself to a dog?]

[I'm beyond saving.]

"Could you not start clowning around just as someone's about to admire you!?"

The admiration that had just begun to rise in her shattered instantly.

At the end of her patience, Geya read on—and found even more outrageous lines—

[A talking Kobold is certainly rare, but that alone excited me about as much as a little handiwork first thing in the morning.

Then I picked up more from its scattered remarks and realized there might be something in this world even more exciting than handiwork—

For instance, finding a Giant Dragon?]

"But—"

As the account reached its point, Geya couldn't help crying out,

"They died out ages ago!"

Giant Dragons had long since vanished from this continent.

The only evidence that they had ever existed was Dragon Gold City, an independent city under the Lord Alliance on the East Coast of the Continent—

Precisely because that city stood amid the bones of a Giant Dragon, it convinced people who had forgotten history that Giant Dragons weren't merely a made-up legend.

[The Ruins they've taken over are anything but ordinary.

I tried to ask Kuru for more details, but that clever Kobold seemed to realize I had designs on the "ancestor" it served. After that, it wouldn't tell me anything else.

Its caution was justified. If I found that suspected Dragon Egg, I would definitely try to snatch it and hide it away.

The trouble is, I'm no match for this Kobold—which is a little embarrassing to admit.

Perhaps I should head to Dragon Gold City and see whether any longer-lived folk there still know something about those Ruins.]

So this Bard really had stopped near Dragon Gold City!?

Could that be a coincidence?

They were talking about Giant Dragons.

Legendary creatures that every Bard had sung about since entering the academy!

They had grown up hearing stories of Giant Dragons.

Rumor had it that the earliest rakish Bard had even formed an inseparable bond with them, giving rise to the Dragonborn...

That was, of course, something Bards had made up to make themselves look impressive.

But it showed just how much Giant Dragons meant to them.

Geya tried to steady her pounding heart, but her breathing quickened.

"If I could master magic too, I could explore Ruins. I could see a Giant Dragon with my own eyes..."

Damn it. She was fantasizing again.

Not about becoming the Journal's author, of course—

"I will never approve of the filthy jokes in his writing!"

[So I have to try to leave this town, even though I've only just met a wonderful little friend—

Anbi, my first little fan.

She promised to buy me a drink of the first wine she brewed when the Harvest Festival arrived.

She hoped that whenever she thought of fine wine in the future, the taste of harvest and joy would linger on her tongue.

But perhaps life rarely goes as we wish.

Regret cuts deeper than happiness.

She's already had her first taste of wine, after all—

A bitter lesson she'll remember for the rest of her life.]

"..."

The Journal came to an end.

Geya, who had been full of complaints, suddenly found herself with nothing to say.

She admitted she'd spoken a little too loudly earlier—

How did one write a story with heart without making it too sentimental?

Add a few tense, thrilling moments.

How did one ease the exhaustion brought on by danger and pressure?

Add a few dirty jokes and some self-mockery to give the reader room to breathe.

And how did one keep the crude remarks and jokes from feeling too flippant or sleazy?

Add something heartfelt. Give them genuine emotion.

The Journal's author clearly understood all of this.

His writing brought the three together in a perfect balance...

Geya took a deep breath and realized, with dismay, that whether she approved hardly mattered.

The Journal's author might have reached a height that she—and perhaps even every formally trained Bard—could never attain.

Only something real could move people.

"If I just copy down the Journal and keep it for myself, without spreading it around, I shouldn't be punished, right?"

Geya tried to persuade herself.

"It's not that his writing won me over. I'm just studying his strengths so I can improve!"

With that, she looked around. Apart from two Construct Guards, no one was nearby.

She hurriedly took out the notebook she carried with her.

Her pen touched the page, her graceful handwriting flowing across it until the sheet was full.

[Keen insight, an early sense for danger, and the decisiveness never to place yourself in harm's way.

Would you be a Keen Bard or a dashing Ranger?

You chose both.]

[You gained the Feat: Alertness.

While awake, you remain vigilant for approaching danger.

Note:

Sap! Failed. Backstab! Failed. Sneak Attack! Failed. How many goddamn eyes does this guy have!?]

Tang Qi looked at his new reward...

And it still wasn't over.