Chapter 292
Words:1682Update:22/06/27 10:05:05
Squirrel Street, in an inconspicuous tavern.
"Serve me a cup of ale!"
"Alright!"
Holmes, who was working in the tavern, immediately ran to the customer's side with two cups of ale in his hands.
He had been working in this tavern for three years, but he had never seen a situation where the tavern was full of people.
Only late at night, when the dwarves put down their manuscripts and came to the human city in search of wine and entertainment, would the tavern barely have more customers.
Holmes swore that the number of customers in the tavern today was the highest it had ever been since its establishment. It was two to three times more than the last time.
The poor quality ale in the tavern was sold by the barrel!
"Go down, kid. That little girl is crying again. Someone will take your place!"
The tavern's new owner yelled at Holmes.
It was only then that Holmes had a chance to catch his breath. Just as he ran into the tavern's backstage, he heard the crying of the baby.
Holmes picked up the baby girl, who was wrapped in a few rags on the table. He wanted to feed her with a spoon, but the baby girl was not interested in the milk and continued to cry loudly.
Holmes, who had no experience in taking care of babies, was anxious and exhausted. But at that moment, a quiet and peaceful song suddenly rang out in the tavern.
The song was like a lullaby that soothed the restlessness in everyone's hearts. Even the noise in the tavern was silenced.
The baby girl in Holmes' arms gradually stopped crying when she heard the song.
Who … sang it?
Holmes carried the baby girl out from the back of the tavern. He arrived at the slightly dilapidated and messy hall, and realized that the song was coming from a wall …
To be precise, it was an image on the wall. On one of the walls in the hall that was painted white, a Frost Elf was holding an unknown musical instrument and singing softly.
Ever since that important person came to the tavern a few days ago, the entire tavern had changed.
The tavern's original owner, the sharp-tongued old lady, had taken a large sum of money and disappeared. In her place was a simple and honest middle-aged man.
The number of customers in the tavern had suddenly increased yesterday. Holmes still could not understand why these customers flocked to the tavern. Was it to drink the poor quality ale?
Of course not. The answer was right in front of Holmes.
"If I can hear Miss Taylin's singing at night, I'll definitely have a good dream," a customer in the tavern said softly.
Holmes noticed that the man was dressed extravagantly. He did not look like a drunkard who would appear in a tavern.
It was the same for the other people present. They came to this tavern to drink, purely to look at the wall that could project images.
Holmes looked at the Frost Elf on the screen. She was merely sitting there, and countless people were willing to come and listen to her singing.
"Envious?"
The tavern owner's voice suddenly rang beside Holmes.
"Envious." Holmes shook his head and denied it. "She's a great person. I'm not stupid enough to compare myself to her."
"A big shot?"
When the new tavern owner heard what Holmes said, it was as if he had heard something interesting.
"Kid, let me tell you a secret. I worked as a servant in the Falosi Mansion for a period of time. You know the mansion where the Blackwood Duchess lives, right?"
"I … have never been to the center of Noland," Holmes said after a moment of hesitation.
"Alright, it's fine if you don't know." The tavern owner pointed at the Frost Elf who was humming an unknown song on the screen.
"Her name is Taylin. Back when she was in the Black Swan Troupe, she wasn't this popular. Only a few people in the entire mansion could call out this elf's name, let alone the people in Nolan. Now, a large group of people have gathered here just to listen to her performance. I don't think it's possible."
"Then why now …"
"I don't know." After the tavern owner said that, he called for the other servants to serve more drinks to the customers.
Holmes stood there alone, deep in thought. He took out a creased piece of paper from the pocket of his tattered clothes. It was a flyer.
It was a flyer about 'Singers of the World' that his friend Leon had given him.
After Holmes entrusted the tavern owner to take care of the baby girl, he ran towards the center of Noland under the cover of the night.
… …
When Holmes arrived at the entrance of the National Theatre of Noland, it was already late at night. Fortunately, the audition would last until the next day.
There were fewer people signing up for the competition late at night than during the day.
Holmes stood outside the National Theatre of Noland, looking a little fearful.
It was an extremely extravagant building. Even a pebble taken from the building would probably cost more than the clothes he was sewing and patching.
He knew that 'Singers of the World' was a competition held by the big shots. It could also be said that it was a ball held by the 'big shots'!
Holmes did not believe the slogan 'as long as one has a passion for music, anyone can get the chance to perform in front of the public'.
After spending more than a decade on Squirrel Street, Holmes knew that the big shots who came and went in fancy carriages with servants following them never cared about the life and death of people like him.
In Holm's eyes, this match was just a game or a small trick played by the big shots.
In order to make certain people famous, they held this competition specifically for the audience of Nolan.
As for the other contestants? They might just be a dispensable foil to make the competition look more glamorous.
Holmes thought so, but he still wanted to try …
He stepped into the extravagant building with uncertainty. The Illumination Spell engraved crystals around him emitted a colorful light.
The light could not be seen on Squirrel Street. The street would be shrouded in darkness at night, and the rats in the sewers would wander freely in the dark.
Holmes was one of the rats. He suddenly walked into the light and seemed a little uncomfortable.
His dirty and messy clothes and the sour smell on his body made the people around him stay away from him.
Even though the people around him were civilians from all over Noland, the little rat at the bottom of Squirrel Street was so unsociable.
Holmes braved the disgusted gazes and whispers of "why would a beggar come to this theatre" as he walked to the registration table.
The attendant who registered also frowned slightly when he saw Holmes's dirty appearance and attire, but he still showed his service to Holmes with a smile.
"I … want to register."
The "little rat" who ran out from the sewers said with a firm tone.
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