Another few days passed, and it finally was time for introducing Mythrill to the general populace. The party and Wolfgang’s band were at the racetrack first thing in the morning, checking everything and supervising the last preparations. The latter mostly consisted of standing around and looking important, though. And drinking beer.


    The party was geared for battle, just to be sure, including full armor, weapons, magical trinkets, and potions in bandoleers. That piece of equipment and the potions for it, mostly Health Potions, but also a few for Magic Resistance and one or two Stealth Potions for Sharpclaw, were a late addition and mostly wiped out their last liquid assets. The only concession Prof made in regards to the party was his fancy dancing shoes – although he had his boots tucked away behind the stage.


    As the sun shone on his shined shoes while Sandra was singing on the stage, Prof felt content. After all the months on Arkadia, this was the first time, he felt like he did something meaningful, surrounded by good friends, sipping passable beer, and listening to good music.


    And being considered rich.


    The band, on the other hand, was wearing only their stage clothes. Those outfits included, however, three two-handed axes, and a pair of… those thingies which were used to beat up innocent drums. Sized for an Ogre. And, well, heavy leather jackets reinforced with rivets and just a few metal plates. Fashionable and safe, all in one. Actually, the rest of the party, even Sharpclaw, placed orders for similar jackets, all with the name "Mythrillhead” and the band’s logo etched on the back.


    The background dancers-slash-singers, which included Mini too, wore the costumes, everyone, which did not include Mini, agreed upon: black ankle-high studded boots, black canvas shorts, that reached just above the knees, and black sleeveless shirts with the band’s name and logo on it. The girls wore even makeup. Every Greenskin agreed, the costumes were borderline scandalous – especially Mini’s, who somehow managed to get shorter, more form-fitting pieces – but were still acceptable. Barely.


    Mini prepared her weapons and "battle gear" too, hiding them behind the stage, and setting Binky to guard it.


    Prof''s party wasn''t the only protection for the concert, though. The brewery brought a couple of… burly "workers" too, officially to help unload the barrels, but Prof could recognize bouncers if he saw them. Attentively standing around the beer stand, and brandishing clubs helped with identifying them immensely. The mages didn''t even make the effort to try pretending their bodyguards were anything but. The racetrack provided a few workers and warriors too. No one really expected anything going sideways, but when you had a – hopefully – large crowd, a little preparation was in order.


    The first festival goers started to arrive around noon. Prof was utterly unable to gauge the age of Greenskins – he learned, that they grew up faster than Humans – but they behaved themselves like older teenagers or young adults. It was probably an underlying rule of all the Multiverses, that people in that age bracket behaved mostly identically, no matter the species, world, or era. It took only an hour or so for the first wannabe to become stiff drunk, and pass out in the middle of the racetrack. His friends followed not much later.


    If they were lucky, they would sober up till evening enough to enjoy the concert. And to get drunk again till midnight.


    Prof asked the racetrack''s personnel to drop the drunkards somewhere out of the way into a shadow. Having drunk teenagers splayed around in the middle of the dancefloor before the concert even started, didn''t look good, after all. That and Prof was quite certain, no one invented insurance on Arkadia yet, so a few unconscious youths being trampled would just lead to him paying through his nose.


    The other rule of all the multiverses was, that if there was a crowd, folks selling food, trinkets, and random junk would pop up within minutes. Arkadia in general, and its first mythrill concert in special wasn''t an exception to this rule either. The very first entrepreneur was a shifty-looking Hob with a tray fixed by straps to his front, selling what Prof would call Hot Dogs. The Hob even swore they were made of a hundred percent genuine, prime dog meat. For some reason, Prof doubted it very much…


    Others followed soon, too. Stalls and desks sprung up like mold in a basement. Some of the items Prof could understand as possible merchandise for a concert, others not so much, and others left him just flabbergasted. Sure, food and drink were a given, musical instruments to be expected – it was a musical venue, after all – cheap jewelry, clothes, and weapons could be rationalized too, pottery, baskets, and candles, not so much. When a stall, selling cosmetics, was set up, Prof just shook his head. The final straw was a tent where orders were taken for comfy-looking chairs.


    “We should demand royalty or money for the places! This is starting to look like a market, not a concert.” He said to the party and the band


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    “Taking money from honest merchants in an open venue without a previous arrangement isn''t excellent!" Wolfgang countered "It would just propagate suppression of free trade for the benefit of the rich. Besides, this is about introducing MYTHRILL to the masses, not making money! The new music is more important, than a few Hellers!"


    “Actually, the racetrack owner rented out those places.” interjected Bianca “I overheard some merchants discussing the prices.”


    “Really? We should ask the racetrack owner for our share then!”


    “No, you can''t." This time it was Wilhelm, who shot down his idea "By the common law, he is entitled to the whole amount. He rented the place out to us for an excellent price, and there is no exclusivity clause in such an arrangement. He can rent out the rest of the racetrack to other parties, as long as the primary contractor, that is us, isn''t limited in his intended venue. If you demand royalty from the owner, he could and would refuse. If you were to press the issue, we would be fined, not him."


    “Oh… How do you know all this?”


    “I have [Law: Greenskinian] and a few other, complimentary Skills at above 200%. I sometimes work as a lawyer when not playing”


    “I’m so sorry. Must be awful.”


    “Thank you. My father always said I should learn at least two crafts. I ended up with law. He almost disinherited me for that."


    “Bummer…”


    “You tell me. Thankfully, I’m quite good in [First Aid], so I work at a hospital as a nurse too.”


    Well, everyone needed to know a few crafts and an honest job. Maybe Prof should do so too. At that time he was good at bashing heads with axes, looting, and evaluating loot, but not much more. That was more or less good for an adventurer, but there were only so many heads he could bash and stuff to loot. Either he chose Highway Robber as his day job, or he needed to learn an honest profession soon.


    Something, that was neither smelly nor involved hard physical labor. Maybe something, that complemented his adventurous lifestyle. [Archeology], to help unearth buried treasures? No, archeologists weren’t known to get rich – but wasn’t that because they sent their loot… khmmm… findings to museums, instead of selling them on the open market? Maybe he should pick up [Distiller]? Every organic material can be turned into booze, after all, and even his Character Parchment said, he needed his weekly fix.


    Or, he could learn, how to make musical instruments! He didn’t know anything about that now, but it only took throwing a Level worth of Skill Points at the problem, and he would be passable! No, he already wanted to have [Art: Painting] and [Art: Drawing]. That would help make him maps. Selling maps was lucrative, no? Besides, a good painter was going to be famous, in only a few centuries, and every museum would be full of his work! If that didn''t work out, he could get into politics, and become the supreme leader of a country… Eh, no, it didn''t work out for the last guy either. And politics? He was planning out an honest career!


    Either way, the next Level was probably some time away, he wasn’t doing all that much in the last month, and if what Mini said about leveling was correct, he would need to get off his ass and do something. For example, bash heads with axes.


    Be as it may, it was already afternoon, with only a few hours left till the concert started, and he was getting hungry. He eyed the Hob selling Hot Dogs. It was cheap, and he had quite a high poison resistance with his magical trinket equipped. It was probably safe…


    He ended up buying a few pretzels, though. From a real stand, brandishing the name of a bakery, he was marginally familiar with. No need to experiment with food poisoning and how good his resistance really was.


    An hour before Wolfgang’s concert was scheduled to begin, another band took to the stage. Prof may have let the idea of a lead-up band slip, but the Greenskins already knew of the concept. It wasn’t exactly like back on Earth, where a Big Name found some marginally known and good folks to whip up the crowd, but more like… well… giving mostly unknown folks a chance to play before an audience. As the band explained, performing before a large crowd probably helped to Level. Helping low-Level performers was an excellent thing to do.


    Whatever the intention was, the effect was mostly the same.


    The very first band played Clay and wasn''t exactly good either. Thankfully, after only three songs, they gave way to another group, playing almost-Granite. Theodor, who had quite a Skill in [Music Theory], tried to explain the intricacies of the different genres in Greenskin music, but Prof blanked out almost immediately. It was enough for him to differentiate between Clay, Granite, and Mythrill. He wasn''t exactly interested in what the difference between Speed Clay, Goblin Clay, Deepgreen Clay, Rhythmic Granite, Straw Granite, Blunt Granite, Romance Granite, and Raider Clay-Granite was. Or Sediment. Just to name a few.


    As he found out, every band played only three songs, and every band played harder, faster, and heavier. The very last one was… not mythrill, not by a long shot, but the hardest, fastest, heaviest Granite he heard in the last month.


    By the time, Mythrillhead took to the stage, the racetrack was packed full.


    The most excellent concert to introduce mythrill was about to start.