Surprisingly, no other issues surfaced until the mid-concert break. Everything was totally normal for a totally normal, average mythrill-concert. Folks headbanging, the audience trying to get the lyrics right while shouting a vague approximation at the top of their lungs, overly drunk people vomiting on marginally drunk people, marginally drunk people punching overly drunk people in the face because they were drenched in vomit…


    The usual.


    Greenskins took to Mythrill and concert like kids to candy, Prof had to concede. Even with their previous knowledge of Clay and Granite, it was still surprising – Arkadia was a medieval world, after all. To be honest, even knowing and loving Clay and Granite and incorporating them into their everyday life to such an extent, was a little bit strange. If Prof were in a novel, he would have sworn, the author was just pulling his legs. Or thinking, what a hillariously funny idea it would be to make Greenskins into music addicts.


    Luckily, he was not in a fiction, but in a living and breathing – and most importantly: real – world. A somewhat strange world to be frank, where the Administrator was probably an utter moron, but it could have been worse. For example, there were no Great Old Ones. At least Prof hoped so sincerely. But wait, didn''t Mini tell him about a Dragonkin Archlich, having his own estate in Forestdeep?


    Be as it may, the concert was going splendidly. After the first two attempts, no multiple-letter agency tried to forcefully put an end to people having fun. No under-equipped Adventurers, aka Common Thugs, tried to shake down vendors or provoke a brawl. No monsters were let loose on the audience, nothing.


    Of course, barely twenty minutes passed since the second – amateurish – attempt. Most likely, that little green slimy… slime was just scrambling to find someone, who could make another try. What was his problem anyways? Granite was common knowledge, and Mythrill wasn’t all that different. If Wolfgang ever invented more extreme sub-genres, like those on Earth, Prof would have understood the reluctance, but the style Mythrillhead was playing was… Well, Prof had not the faintest idea, what that particular sub-genre would have been called. Probably Alternative Greenskin Speedy Trashgrunge. Or something like that.


    He had an idea when he saw the grinning mage, responsible for the illusions.


    “Adept, would it be possible to project the lyrics somewhere? The audience wouldn''t need to guess it that way, and could sing along." Karaoke wasn''t a bad idea in certain circumstances. For example, when no one knew the lyrics yet.


    “That would be excellent! I was thinking about that already! My poor fellow Greenskins aren’t having an excellent time without knowing what exactly to sing. On my own, I wouldn’t be able to do that and the illusions, however. But wait! My nephew is an apprentice in the not-Guild, and although he isn’t good enough for the illusions, he should be able to project words.”


    “How fast could you get him?”


    “He is standing on the other side of the stage, studying the synergy between different schools of magic" The Goblin mage waved to a wide-eyed Ogre, standing not far away over. Quickly explaining, what was needed of him, he immediately agreed.


    “It would be an honor! Helping this excellent venue get even more excellent! Helping others to enjoy it even more, would be excellent!" The Ogre, Werner by name, was clearly star-struck. So much, in fact, that he didn''t even want payment for the job. Prof had the feeling, that as an apprentice, he wasn''t entitled to payment to begin with, but he made the offer anyways.


    Of course, the apprentice needed to know the lyrics, he was to project, so Prof took him to a tent behind the stage, reserved for the band. Wolfgang and the rest were sitting outside, however, visibly tired but clearly happy.


    “Prof, my friend! This is going even better than I hoped! Everyone loves MYTHRILL!” the bringer of new music declared loudly “We should do this again sometimes!”


    “You could go on a tour, and visit every large town and city.” Prof absentmindedly supplied


    “Like a traveling bard? Not many do that, most just stay in their towns or cover nearby villages."


    “You want Mythrill to be widely known, travelling around would do that faster.” And what band did not make a tour every other year, after all? Showing their faces to the fans, and making a shitload of money. Prof just needed to come up with an awesome name for the tour. Maybe The Mythrill Tour? Or something like that.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “Wolfgang, I found an apprentice, who would project the lyrics, so everyone could sing along. If I remember correctly, you wrote them down for practice. Do you have it with you?”


    “Sure. It’s the stack of papers on the desk in there. I will get it.”


    “No need. Collect your strength for the second part. Come on, Werner.”


    Right after entering the tent, Prof noticed a few things. First, the inventory was in utter disarray, with the back of the tent cut open. The second was Mini drinking a random Human in the middle of the chaos. Lastly, Binky was munching on something that looked disturbingly by another random Human. It probably was one. Sometimes not so long ago.


    Everything pointed in one direction: Mini lost herself and abducted two random Humans to have her way and dinner with them! Or so Prof would have thought if he was prone to misunderstandings. Scratch that. Knowing Mini, every sane person would come to that assumption. She was a crazy, irresponsible bloodsucker after all. Stupid, however, she was not. Killing probably-two Humans in front of a few thousand witnesses would be stupid, and would most likely lead to the witnesses grabbing their weapons for some light exercise. Or inform the authorities, from which a small squad was standing less than ten meters away.


    “Look, Prof! I captured thieves! You can praise me now." Well, maybe-two thieves cutting their way into the tent to plunder would be another explanation for the situation. However…


    “Mini, capturing means, the captives are alive after the capture. If they are dead, you should say, I killed thieves.”


    “Bah, semantics! Technically, they were alive after I captured them! This one is still alive. Oh, sorry, no. Probably died of shock.”


    “Shock? You drank him dry.”


    “Yes, shock. Shock because my gorgeous self was ready to interact with him. And shock of blood loss. And I may have hit him on the head a few times. Blunt trauma could be called shock, no? Anyways, praise me for Binky noticing evil-doers trying to plunder from us!"


    “Have you at least found out, what they wanted?”


    “No. They were speaking in Fallerian, I think. Or some other language. Even I’m not so awesome to know every language on Fenria! That would be… ehmmm… Dozens?”


    Prof decided it wasn''t worth continuing that line of discussion. Why debate semantics? In effect, it made no difference whatsoever, if the thieves were alive while captured, they had most likely-two corpses on their hands. Less every second, Binky was munching happily and fast. Prof thought for a moment, what use was capturing someone, since every last of their captives so far was killed a short time later anyways. He shrugged. He would try to capture them, he even had a Perk for it, the others could do what they liked with the captives later.


    Prof spotted the mentioned stack of papers right below an overturned desk and handed them to the shaking Ogre. Werner''s terrified gaze was fixed on Binky. He probably never saw a corpse or how they were disposed of out in the wilds. Or how Greenskins handled their dead. Talking about the local funeral rites, Prof realized, he haven''t seen a graveyard in Ostwaldland yet. Whatever, Werner should grow up, and get used to dead people. Arkadia wasn''t a peaceful world, pieces of people were practically lying everywhere! Prof kicked a finger, that must have rolled away, back to Binky and escorted their new karaoke machine out of the tent.


    “Do you think, you would be able to memorize the lyrics in the few minutes we have left?” He asked the apprentice illusionist.


    “Fifteen songs… Let’s see… Well, the lyrics aren’t that long or difficult. If I can keep the papers, I will manage.”


    Prof nodded. Making the concert even more awesome… ehmm… excellent was taken care of, now they had to tighten security even more. After the authorities, the thugs, and the thieves, it was clear, the not-Guildmaster was trying very hard to make the concert impossible. Luckily, he was mildly incompetent. Why make convoluted plans to arrest the band, close the beer stand or steal documents? Why not just send a few guys with crossbows to shoot everyone in the head? It would be much easier, faster, and more certain. And final.


    On the other hand, this was Ostwaldland, and their enemy wasn''t a supervillain, but a Greenskin, grown up in Greenskinian culture. As far as Prof learned, Greenskins were very big on being excellent to each other, and summarily executing musicians on stage probably wasn''t considered being excellent. Actually, the first try was absolutely lawful, and for the next two, he had to resort to Humans, not Greenskins.


    Prof directed Mini to change into her battle outfit, get her crossbow and assume an overwatch position on the stage, in case, someone did have the idea to start shooting at the band. Binky was left behind the tent, and Sharpclaw… probably hid or sneaked around, since Prof wasn''t able to find her. Bianca and Prof himself were to make rounds around the stage and backstage, just to make it harder for anyone to sneak close. The squad of police was left standing to one side, officially waiting for the band to finish so they could inform Wolfgang, he wasn''t allowed to continue or finish the concert.


    The party was prepared for everything! No evil-doer would be able to sneak close and interrupt the most excellent concert, Akradia ever saw! Prof was absolutely sure, they were prepared as it was humanly possible. Vampirely. Koboldly. Eh. As much as possible.


    They were not, however.


    As soon as the first chords of the second part were played, Prof was approached by a Hobgoblin, dressed in formal clothes and sporting an insincere smile.


    “Good evening, Sir. My name is Siegfried Nierenstein, and I regret to inform you, that I''m with the Thieves'' Not-Guild.”