Kyle's consciousness slowly surfaced from the darkness, gradually awakening.
The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't sleeping in that corner of the cargo hold, as he didn't smell its characteristic dampness and fishy odor.
Instead, what enveloped Kyle at this moment was an elegant scent of incense.
Only then did he recall the last scene before losing consciousness—those golden eyes.
Even in memory, Kyle could still feel the immense pressure brought by those eyes, which made him suddenly open his eyes, sit up, gasp for air, and break out in a cold sweat.
His supporting palms instantly felt a slippery sensation, and Kyle then realized he was lying on some thick, fine fabric.
He was lying on a wide, comfortable couch.
What met his eyes was not the low, oppressive ceiling of the cabin and stacked cargo boxes, but a meticulously furnished, luxurious room.
The walls were made of smoothly polished dark wood, inlaid with simple yet exquisite metal strips. A few wall lamps, fixed to the walls, emitted a soft, pale purple light.
It not only illuminated the entire room but also added a touch of nobility and elegance.
The air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood mixed with books, completely devoid of the usual odors found in a ship's cabin.
A heavy desk was fixed in a corner, neatly arranged with several scrolls of parchment and a set of tools that appeared to be for writing or surveying.
The entire room subtly exuded a sense of calm, with sharp and distinct lines.
Every detail showed that its owner had extremely high standards for comfort and order, and possessed ample wealth.
Kyle was completely bewildered.
He had never imagined that such a space, like a nobleman's study, could be hidden on this merchant ship, crowded with sailors, cargo, and cheap berths.
This was definitely not the captain's room; one could tell from the style of his office that he preferred a rugged, utilitarian style. Who was the owner of this room? Why was he here?
Just as he propped himself up in confusion, looking around, a calm, deep voice came from the other side of the room:
"You're awake."
Kyle looked in the direction of the voice, his heart leaping.
On a soft sofa against the wall sat the Black Dragonborn.
He was still wearing a dark cloak, but his hood was down, revealing a head covered in jet-black scales and those impressive golden vertical pupils.
His posture seemed extremely relaxed, yet subtly exuded a steady demeanor, like the earth itself.
"Tha—thank you, sir," Kyle stammered, his throat still dry. "Where am I—is this your room?"
The Black Dragonborn nodded slightly, his gaze calm and unruffled: "Consider it a temporary dwelling on a journey. It's certainly more comfortable than those other rooms."
He didn't elaborate on the room's origin but shifted the topic to Kyle, "Regarding last night, I apologize."
"My gaze seemed to have put extra pressure on you, causing your performance to fail and even for you to faint."
Kyle's cheeks flushed again; the disastrous scene from last night was still vivid in his memory.
"No, sir, that wasn't your fault! It was me—I was too nervous and messed everything up," he lowered his head, his voice filled with remorse.
The Black Dragonborn seemed not to mind his excuse and continued, "I learned about the conditions of your boarding from Captain Hagg."
"Those terms are too harsh for a young man chasing a dream."
His golden vertical pupils looked at Kyle, "I have already paid the captain for your fare."
"From this moment until the end of the voyage, all earnings from your performances on the ship will be entirely yours."
Kyle was completely stunned.
He paid his fare?
And waived the commission?
This—this was simply a windfall!
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to refuse or thank him, but it ultimately turned into somewhat helpless words: "Sir—this—this is too generous!"
"I really—I don't know how to thank you! Actually, the failure of the performance was entirely my own fault, I—"
"Take it," the Black Dragonborn's tone was unquestionable, yet not arrogant. "Consider it a listener's—prepaid tip—for the wonderful performances you might deliver in the future."
He seemed not to want to dwell on this topic.
Kyle ultimately accepted the gift.
He was simply too short on money.
After a brief silence, the Black Dragonborn spoke again, a hint of inquiry in his golden eyes: "I am somewhat curious, Kyle Embervoice."
"Why did you accept such unfavorable conditions to embark on this journey?"
"Even going so far as to hastily learn the skills of a bard?"
His gaze swept over the lute Kyle had placed aside.
Due to nervousness and gratitude, Kyle completely failed to notice the oddity in the Black Dragonborn's words.
How did he know Kyle's name, and that he had hastily learned the skills of a bard?
Instead, Kyle thought of his dream, his spirits lifted somewhat, and a light seemed to rekindle in his red eyes:
"I want to emulate His Majesty Prestor!"
His tone was reverent, "Our first Emperor, after abdicating his throne, chose to travel the world to see a broader sky and land!"
"I also want to go and see, to travel all over Azeroth! But—"
His voice lowered a bit, "I don't have enough money. So I had to—well, teach myself some bardic skills."
"Fortunately, the Dragon God's library is open to all believers for free; I read many scrolls on music theory and poetry there."
He added, with a touch of small pride in the welfare under the Dragon God's rule.
"I hope to travel and earn my travel expenses through performing."
Kyle concluded, though despite yesterday's failure, the goal itself still excited him.
However, after listening, the Black Dragonborn's lips seemed to curve into a smile, almost of helplessness.
It wasn't mockery, but more like the expression of an elder witnessing a young person making a mistake.
"A grand goal, Kyle," his voice was steady. "But with all due respect, your current preparations are probably insufficient to support this plan."
Kyle was taken aback.
"As a bard, the stories you know and sing are too singular," the Black Dragonborn pointed out incisively.
"They are all epics of the Dragonborn, their glorious past."
"These stories might make your kin feel close and proud, but for sailors and passengers of other races on the ship, they are too distant to evoke true resonance."
"What they need are melodies and stories that touch their own emotions, concerning their familiar lives."
"Of course, some exotic stories can also work." The Black Dragonborn's expression subtly shifted, as if he thought of something amusing. "For example, the Dragon of Radiance Obsidian's early—"
"Sir! Please be careful with your words!" Kyle quickly interrupted the Black Dragonborn, touching the divine emblem on his chest and praying in a low voice.
"Alright," the Black Dragonborn shrugged lightly, no longer continuing the topic. "In short, your experience is still shallow, not enough to support you becoming a qualified bard."
Kyle fell silent.
In his memory, the impatient expressions and boos of the non-Dragonborn listeners seemed to confirm this point.
The Black Dragonborn looked at him and continued to ask, "So, tell me, Kyle. What was your main professional direction when you received your education?"
He paused, adding, as if this was just a casual mention of common knowledge, "I remember that the major towns under the Dragon God's radiance should have provided basic educational opportunities for all age-appropriate children."
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