Time for some sugar.

The minstrels were a rowdy bunch.

Portabellas, they aren't rowdy.

A new nickname was in order.

They liked ale. And as Ergot followed them, he was offered more liquor than he could stand in one sitting. Of course, he drank what he was offered, who knew if they got insulted? Besides, maybe some alcohol could soothe his nerves... Oh, hahah, what a joke.

Did they like women. They were all male, and every one of these singers whistled and jeered at servants and females walking past. A woman who must have been 80 years old was cheered at. She bowed and turned red in the face, bowing, flashed her baggy assets.

That induced a wince. Ergot soon got rather jealous. Not of the 80 year old woman, but they were going to steal his lovelies! No, no, not the lovelies. He cringed, hanging towards the back of the group, who were slowly stumbling to the main yard. Which was just an expanse, filled to the brim with various entertainers. A few, however, stood at the stairs leading up to the palace, and Ergot decided to stand with them.

There was a great deal of preparations going on. Obviously, this was a big thing. There were people who stood around, shouting orders from various doors and windows. There was a cook shouting flour, someone for flowers, yet another for plates, and below them servants ran to what must have been a market, and half an hour later, they world return, run through a random door, and a few minutes later, would be outside standing around waiting for yet another order.

A hush rippled through the crowds, and even some of the more drunken minstrels shushed, looking at a tight group of three guards. One of them was holding a scroll, the other two were just there to push some Agaricus around. Looking around, there were several trios of guards, all looking the same, one scroll boy and two henchmen. Abusing the Fungi. Ergot just sat down, dug into his pocket. Smelled into a bag of who-knows-what, and then laid his head back, waiting for his turn to be abused.

After an hour, Ergot was kicked in the spleen, and he sat up, staring at a trio. Shoved, pulled up, patted. Oh, no, they were looking through his herbs... A guard grabbed one sachet, snorted it. Gave an awful face and handed the sachet back to Ergot. Snickering, the bard showed his lute, didn't say a word, but twisted his elbow around and popped it out of boredom. Finally the guards gave him a go ahead, but not before taking Ergot's bag of herbs. The scroll-boy checked something on his list, and off they went to the next person.