One-Eyed Monster

Perkins had a look that Igor found quite amusing, leaning on his chin and glancing upward, his mouth crooked, as if he were contemplating something.

”I’m telling you, can’t you just summarize it properly? Why do you always go off on tangents without any logic?”

”I’m thinking.” Perkins smiled at Igor, then resumed his previous demeanor.

Hustace was still holding his forehead, puzzled, because it was utterly torturous for him. He felt that his brother and Igor were kindred spirits, capable of chatting about anything and everything so joyfully.

It was quite strange that something that seemed like a scam in description, appearance, and thought process could keep these two engaged for so long, as if it were completely normal for them. Hustace simply couldn’t understand; he held his forehead and wallowed in his own sorrow, leaving Igor and Perkins to continue their discussion.

Perkins maintained his contemplative look, but Igor was relentless, mainly because Perkins’ earlier suggestion had provoked him.

After all, he’d heard many stories as a child, with only two main sources: listening to storytellers passionately narrate them in the square or tavern, or hearing a wandering bard softly sing them.

Storytellers often made Igor excited, while the wandering bard’s passionate singing often moved him deeply.

So, whether it was storytellers or wandering bards, Igor held them in great respect. He felt that the language of a wandering bard was poetic, not something to be desecrated, so Perkins shouldn’t flaunt those unfocused experiences.

That was pure disrespect to the wandering bards!

Igor couldn’t stand this desecration; he wanted to have a proper talk with Perkins about it.

”Your stories are all over the place, completely incoherent trash. How could you bother those poetic wandering bards with such stuff?”

”Uh, I didn’t mean to bother the wandering bards.”

”Stop making excuses! Didn’t you just say you wanted the wandering bards to sing your stories?” Igor pressed on.

”Uh, maybe I expressed it wrongly. I meant not to have them narrate it but to express my stories in that way!” Perkins rambled on again, finding it complicated, but no matter how complicated, he needed to clarify it.

”Ah—” Igor drew a sharp breath as he seemed to start understanding Perkins’ meaning, ”You meant you wouldn’t bother the wandering bards; you’d do it yourself?”

”Yes, yes, I think I can! I can sing joyfully like a wandering bard, singing what I want to sing.”

”Hehe,” Igor chuckled and then put on a serious face, ”You... are not qualified yet.”

Hmm?

Perkins didn’t understand. Not qualified for what?

”I mean you’re not qualified to be a wandering bard. If you were, it would be a disaster, not just an ordinary disaster,” said Igor.

”How can you say that? I have a good voice, after all. It’s just a difference of a lyre between me and a wandering bard,” Perkins said with a smile.

”Uh, it’s definitely not just a difference of a lyre. That’s not it.”

”Why isn’t it about the lyre? Now, if I had a lyre, I could play it and sing out loud. Isn’t that doing what a wandering bard does?” Perkins was unconvinced, thinking everything he said made sense; Igor just didn’t understand.

”Wandering bards aren’t just about singing.”

”I have stories too!” Perkins was still stubborn.

”Ugh, why can’t you just understand it? Hey,” Igor sighed heavily, feeling Perkins was too absorbed in his fantasies and needed a wake-up call.

”I think it’s you who doesn’t understand, Igor.” Perkins felt misunderstood and was quite anxious.

”Alright, let me tell you the difference between you and a wandering bard.”

”Go ahead.” Perkins was quite curious, thinking he’d met many wandering bards and believed he could reach that level.

”I’m not talking about the lyre, the singing, or anything regular; I’m talking about something special, the very soul of a wandering bard: the lyrics.”

”I know, I know, the lyrics are just a story outline. I have plenty of stories!” Perkins brushed it off, considering those things secondary, the lyre being the most important.

”Hehe, a wandering bard’s lyrics don’t wander aimlessly. They have a start and an end, unlike you,” Igor mocked Perkins, feeling he was beyond comprehension.

”Uh... what do you mean exactly?” This time, Perkins was a bit confused.

”You must have realized you can’t express what you want clearly, or that the audience’s feedback doesn’t match your expectations.”

”This...” Perkins was taken aback, acknowledging this problem existed, ”This aspect does exist; it has always troubled me.”

”Because your logic is chaotic, jumping randomly. No one would skip from one point to another like that,” Igor explained, gesturing with his hands to emphasize how disjointed Perkins’ storytelling was, lacking any focus.

”Uh...” Perkins scratched his head, a gesture originally belonging to Igor, which he’d learned this time.

”Nobody likes listening to a messy story. Originally, I was listening to you trading with cunning dwarves in a tavern, but suddenly you jumped to dining with Tree Spirits in the Vero Realm. Isn’t this sort of leap utterly nonsensical?”

Perkins thought it over and felt Igor made a lot of sense. If he were a story listener, such jumping storytelling would indeed be a headache.

”You’re right, I think that makes a lot of sense.” Perkins nodded repeatedly.

Igor was amused, thinking he’d just begun, and this guy already agreed; he was indeed an oddball.

”Don’t rush, I’m just getting started. Listen well so you can explain things clearly and resolve the questions in my mind,” Igor said with a smile.

”Alright, list them one by one. I also need to sum up the reasons; otherwise, there’ll be errors again when I share it next time!”