Chapter 57: The Bag of Wonders and a Bard’s Experiment

The rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt road filled the crisp northern air as Dorian and the three knights made their way toward Brenhold. Regis’ white mane shimmered in the morning sun, and Dorian couldn't resist running his fingers through it.

"You really adore that horse, huh?" Tache quipped, watching Dorian fuss over Regis with an amused smirk.

Dorian grinned. "Of course. He’s my most loyal companion now, aren’t you, Regis?" He patted the horse’s neck, and Regis let out a pleased snort.

Selyse, riding just beside him, eyed the sling bag at Dorian’s side. "So, Viscount Halrik gave you that bag, huh?"

Tache added with an exaggerated sigh, "Honestly, I still can't decide whether to cry happily or be proud from your little noble mansion adventure."

Dorian chuckled. "Well, I’m definitely not complaining. This thing is insanely useful." He reached into the bag, his arm disappearing deeper than the size of the bag should allow, and then pulled out his violin. "See? I can carry anything without feeling the weight. Like magic."

Selyse raised an eyebrow. "Any limitations?"

Dorian tapped his chin in thought. "Y'know what? I actually haven’t tested it yet."

Curious, he lifted the violin to his chin, took a deep breath, and dragged the bow across the strings—only to produce the most ear-piercing screech imaginable.

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Then—

"By the stupid gods, what was that?" Tache groaned, covering his ears.

Ralnor, ever the quiet one, simply muttered, "Horrible."

Selyse winced, shaking her head. "Dorian, please… whatever magic you put in your music, do not put it in that."

Dorian scowled. "Hey, give me a break! This thing is new!" He strummed an apologetic note on his lute instead, producing a much more pleasing sound.

The evening passed as they continued on, and soon, the newly rebuilt bridge came into view, its stone structure standing strong against the river’s rushing waters. Dorian, setting aside his violin, sighed in relief.

"Finally! I think that was my worst practice session ever."

Tache smirked. "That’s because it was."

Ignoring him, Dorian glanced up at the sky—just in time to spot a courier griffon soaring overhead. The sleek-winged beast, smaller than a battle griffon but no less impressive, carried a rider clad in fine travel gear.

Dorian let out a low whistle. "Must be nice being a noble, huh? Flying over all of us like that."

Tache rolled his eyes. "You do know that’s just a courier griffon, right? Not a steed."

"Exactly," Dorian shot back. "They use that majestic creature just to deliver messages."

Selyse shrugged. "Well, to be fair, courier griffons are usually reserved for emergencies or urgent reports."

Dorian scoffed. "Not always. Rumor has it, one time, a courier griffon came to Silverhill, and guess what? The elf rider just wandered around asking people questions. Then he left. Never saw him again."

"Maybe he was on an important mission?" Selyse suggested.

Dorian shook his head. "Bet you anything he was just sent to pick up groceries or something equally mundane."

The group laughed at the thought of a high-ranking noble using a griffon courier to fetch bread and cheese.

…

That night, as they set up camp, Dorian finally gave in to his curiosity.

"Alright," he declared, adjusting his new sling bag on his hip. "Time to test just how much this thing can handle."

Selyse leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. "Finally! I’ve been dying to know how it works!"

Tache stretched out lazily. "Just don’t lose your own things in there."

Dorian huffed. "Hey, I’m a professional bard. I know how to keep track of my belongings."

Ralnor, already tending to the fire, muttered, "You forgot your coat yesterday."

Dorian shot him a glare before dramatically pulling out his violin, his hunting knife, a spare set of clothes, and a wrapped loaf of bread from The Frosted Tankard and other things from the hollow’s residences given to things he got along the way.

"See?" He gestured grandly. "Perfectly organized."

Selyse, unimpressed, crossed her arms. "Then let’s see if things mix inside."

She pointed to the raw deer meat they had hunted earlier.

Dorian immediately recoiled. "Wait, wait—if we’re doing this, we are not sacrificing my stuff."

Tache smirked. "Coward."

Ignoring him, Dorian grabbed a blank piece of parchment from his journal. "Fine. We’ll test it with this instead. If the paper gets blood on it, we’ll know everything gets jumbled inside."

With a dramatic flourish, he placed both the parchment and the raw deer meat into the bag. The items disappeared seamlessly.

Dorian hesitated, then shook the bag for good measure.

The group held their breath as he reached inside, first pulling out the meat. It was still raw, blood pooling at the edges.

Then, he reached in again and retrieved the parchment—perfectly clean, untouched by even a single drop of blood.

Silence.

Then—

Selyse shot forward, eyes alight with excitement. "Do more!"

Dorian laughed. "Alright, alright! Let’s see what else we can do!"

The night became a flurry of experiments. They tested whether hot and cold items affected each other (they didn’t), whether sound carried inside the bag (it didn’t), and if weight changes depending on what was inside (it didn’t—Dorian could carry a pile of things as if they weighed nothing).

Tache, at one point, suggested putting a lit candle inside just to see what would happen, but Dorian immediately shut that idea down.

"I am not setting my magical bag on fire!"

"Come on, just a little flame!" Tache wheedled.

"No!"

They spent the night laughing and testing every possibility, eventually falling asleep under the stars, still marveling at the strange and incredibly useful magic of the sling bag.

For the first time in a while, Dorian felt like a true adventurer—wandering, learning, discovering, and most importantly… enjoying the journey.