The Musician

The sun drifted slowly onto the horizon as the knights ascended the stairs of the Grandstand together.

So where are you off to now, my friend?” Sir Bic asked. “Now that the festivities have concluded, what has your fanciful mind imagined for you next?”

“Ah yes, the fanciful mind I have,” Sir Jonathan replied with a chuckle. “Remember too, Sir, you were once as imaginative as I.”

Armor clanked as the warrior’s arms joined over their shoulders; a smile, a laugh and a rolling of the eyes was shared.

“I may return to my music,” offered Sir Jon.

“Well, my friend, I haven’t a shadow of a doubt that your compositions are quite good. Have you considered playing for the King?”

“Play for King August?” Sir Jonathan asked, his voice having a higher pitch. “My lord, His Grace would hear nothing of it, I’m sure!”

“You never know,” replied Sir Bic, smiling. “He just might become your roadie!”

They entered the Banquet Hall laughing, unaware that King August, having been on the Berfrois, had heard all that was said.

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