Aubrey strolled the crowded streets and maneuvered her way through the throng of pedestrians. People walked and chattered about their daily happenings. She filtered the background noise and honed her senses to listen for useful intel.
So far, none caught her interest.
"...don't understand fashion anymore. Where's the style gone..."
"...so then the manager tells me he's not paying extra for hazard compensation. What the hell did he expect..."
"...these meat buns are so tender and juicy..."
Nothing worthwhile.
Aubrey traversed the Ironworks district and found herself along one of the main thoroughfares. Streams of patrons and workers flowed in and out of their establishments. She lingered along the sidewalk and scanned the surroundings.
A familiar face stood out from the crowd.
Thomas—the man who had recognized her face at the Dead Poet's Pub—exited an establishment.
Aubrey blended amongst the throng and tailed him.
He moved eastward along the main road. Aubrey stalked and maintained a reasonable distance from her mark. Thomas didn't exhibit any obvious behavior that would indicate detection.
Good.
Several blocks later, when the congestion lessened, Aubrey jogged forward and drew alongside Thomas, wrapping her arm around his.
"Hi, Thomas!" Aubrey greeted the startled man with her signature smile. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"Lady Au—"
"Shhhh," Aubrey placed a finger against his lip. "I'm Nightingale, remember? Aubrey's long-lost sibling?"
"Y... Yes," Thomas composed himself and nodded. Aubrey noted the slight quiver in his body.
Probably nervous. Aubrey tightened her grip along his arm.
"Wonderful," Aubrey purred and guided him along the sidewalk. "Mind accompanying me shopping? I've been cooped up indoors the last few days. Need some fresh air."
"O... Okay."
Thomas complied and surrendered to Aubrey's manipulation.
They wandered through the Voxhall Ward and entered multiple stores. Aubrey perused and purchased a variety of goods. Thomas dutifully carried the packages and assisted her with whatever tasks Aubrey had assigned.
Along the way, Aubrey had struck up conversations. Thomas revealed tidbits of information regarding his personal history. Mostly mundane minutiae: hobbies, preferences, and interests. Aubrey indulged his ramblings. Information can take many forms. Even mundane topics can provide clues.
"So, how's your work been at the factory?" Aubrey inquired while browsing accessories.
"It's... the same," Thomas sighed. Aubrey detected a twinge of frustration. Excellent.
"Oh? Something wrong?" Aubrey prodded.
"My supervisor keeps assigning me the worst duties. Cleaning the factory floor, organizing the warehouse, sweeping the lobby. Meanwhile, he gets to stay inside his office and order everyone around."
"That's rough. Do you complain?" Aubrey selected and examined a bracelet. Seems tacky. Not her style.
"No." Thomas' answer didn't surprise her.
"Why not?"
Thomas hesitated. "Because... Then he'd assign worse duties. Sometimes the other lads complain and disappear the next day."
"That's terrible." Aubrey discarded the bracelet. Ugly. "Sounds like he abuses his authority."
"Yeah."
"Have you thought of quitting?" Aubrey shifted her attention towards the rings. Hmm. None appealed to her.
"I... tried. Didn't work out. The factory pays the highest wages compared to the other factories. Besides," Thomas heaved a despondent sigh. "Where would I go anyway? I can't go back home. My family disowned me."
Poor guy. Aubrey didn't pity him. Her circumstances surpassed Thomas' by several degrees. But his situation sounded shitty.
"Really? Why?"
"Father caught me... engaging... with another man," Thomas confessed. Aubrey didn't miss his lowered gaze. Probably shame.
Interesting. So, Thomas swings that way. Aubrey didn't discriminate nor judge. More opportunities.
"How did your father react?" Aubrey changed tactics and sampled the perfume samples. Bleh. Smells awful.
"Horribly. Beat me senseless. Threw me out the next day. Haven't contacted him since."
"Any luck meeting other men?"
Thomas shook his head. Aubrey caught the melancholic expression. Oh. Poor baby.
"Nope. None. Nobody wants to be with the likes of me. Who'd want to court a disgraced factory worker anyway?"
"Aw. Cheer up." Aubrey rubbed his cheek with her hand. "You're a handsome fellow. I'm sure someone will. Plenty of fish in the sea, as the saying goes."
Thomas' cheeks reddened. Aubrey resisted a devilish grin. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Thank... thank you."
"You're welcome. Here," Aubrey deposited an additional coin purse into his hand. "For helping me carry my purchases. Buy yourself something nice."
Thomas weighed the purse and his eyes bulged.
"Lady Nightingale. This... this is too generous," Thomas attempted to return the gift. Aubrey didn't accept.
"Think nothing of it," Aubrey nudged the coin purse back. "You've helped me out. Consider it a token of appreciation. Besides. Money's not an issue for me."
It actually was. Fuuuuck.
Thomas accepted and stored the coin purse in his pocket. Aubrey didn't miss his excited grin. Adorable. Easy mark.
"Oh! Before I forget. If you haven't heard yet, my band's going to perform at the Shadowed Nook this week. I've got a couple of songs prepared especially for the overworked and underappreciated workings like you."
Aubrey punctuated her sales pitch with an exaggerated wink.
"I... I've heard." Thomas averted his gaze. Aubrey didn't miss his flushed cheeks. Cute.
"Great!" Aubrey leaned in close and whispered into his ear. "Spread the word to your colleagues. And if you have friends working at any of the Blackwell factories, be sure to tell them too. Tell them they can vent their frustrations and enjoy the show. Understand?"
Thomas gulped. "U... Understood. Lady Nightingale."
"Fantastic. See you at the show!" Aubrey released him and bid farewell. Thomas departed after delivering a clumsy bow.
As his silhouette disappeared within the crowds, Aubrey smirked and reviewed her haul. A variety of clothing, cosmetics, and miscellaneous items. Worth the expenditure.
More importantly, Aubrey had planted seeds. Factory workers who suffered exploitation and abuse would appreciate a venue where they could vent their frustrations. Her songs and performances could offer solace and a potential outlet.
She intended to exploit their discontent and capitalize on the opportunity. Plus, Thomas would serve as her messenger and spread the word.
No need to use some fancy brainwashing contraption to manipulate the masses. Her music alone would suffice.
If they resonated with the message of her songs strongly enough, who knows? Perhaps her words would ignite the spark of revolution.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Let Julian Blackwell and other tycoons contend with a workforce fueled by discontent.
Aubrey giggled and envisioned the pandemonium.
Revolution sounds awesome. Let's make that happen.
----------------------------------------
"Behold," Thaddeus announced, his modulated voice echoed within the chamber. Aubrey's bandmates gathered around the Unhallowed automaton and congregated near the Luminal Projector.
"I have endeavored to restore yon device to its full capacity," he continued, "albeit with certain... modifications, to ensure no malevolence remains within its workings."
Aubrey leaned forward, her crimson gaze focused on the device's lens. "So, it's safe now? We won't get brainwashed or have our minds possessed?"
Thaddeus pivoted his body towards her. "Certitude. 'Tis devoid of malintent and malignancy. The nefarious components have been excised. What remains is purely for our edification and, perchance, entertainment."
He flicked a switch, and the device hummed to life, emitting a soft, pulsating light. Aubrey detected a slight vibration emanating from its chassis. Thaddeus rotated a dial and adjusted the device's positioning.
"Watch the screen yon wall," the automaton commanded. Aubrey redirected her attention and observed the flickering image materialize on the smooth stone surface.
An image resembling an auditorium emerged, complete with a stage and rows of seats occupied by an audience. Aubrey's keen ears picked up the faint murmurs and chattering amongst the patrons. Thaddeus manipulated the Luminal Projector and zoomed in. Details became more pronounced.
"Ooh." Aubrey's eyes widened. "That's cool. Didn't realize this thing had optical zoom. Pretty neat."
"'Twould prove a necessary modification. Optimal viewing would require an unobscured view, although improvised alterations suffice."
Aubrey ignored the technical jargon and spectated the performance. An orchestral group occupied the stage. A variety of instruments—strings, woodwind, and brass—comprised their ranks. Their conductor stood poised before the ensemble, baton in hand.
"Hmm. Orchestra," Aubrey speculated. The Luminal Projector's visual and audio capabilities impressed her. It wasn't on the level of a cinema or television, but Aubrey appreciated its vintage projection. Reminded her of an early movie theater.
"As thou canst observe," Thaddy continued, his brass fingers gesturing towards the projections, "the core function of projecting imagery and sound remains intact. I have altered the arcane circuitry to negate the original purpose of swaying public opinion or instilling specific emotions in viewers."
"Cool." Aubrey bobbed her head. "Wait... hang on. Can it record stuff too?"
Thaddeus cocked his brass head. "Nay. Recording capability does not comprise the Luminal Projector's base construction. Another device is required to accomplish said functionality. Henceforth, acquiring a recording device would prove an optimal addition."
Damn. Too bad. Aubrey had envisioned recording their band's performances. Sell the recordings as souvenirs. Or even distribute their recorded music. Make a little coin on the side. Profit.
"Ahh." Aubrey sulked and slumped into the moth-eaten velvet couch.
Thaddeus tilted his brass head quizzically. "Art something amiss Aubrey? Thy displeased demeanor conveys disappointment. Explain and elaborate."
"It's nothing," Aubrey sighed. "Just wanted to record our shows and sell them. Turn a little coin on the side."
"Ahh. Recording aural vibrations and visual movement would indeed prove advantageous for monetary gain. Alas, the Luminal Projector lacks recording functionality."
"Yeah. I know. Disappointing."
Cedric approached the wall and regarded the projection. Aubrey watched his granite frame shift and pivot as he followed the orchestra's performance.
"They lack intensity. Energy. Their performance sounds hollow," Cedric critiqued. Aubrey detected an edge to his gravelly tone.
"Indeed," Thaddeus concurred. "Contrasted to our performance, the composition fails to stir mine artificial heart. Audible resonance would prove preferable, albeit insufficient to enrapture the entirety of one's psyche. Sound is crucial. Alas, mere instruments, though skilled, are not sufficient. Without a captivating aura or an intriguing storyline, the performance falls flat."
Aubrey nodded. Thaddeus and Cedric articulated her thoughts.
Music conveyed emotion and a message. Not necessarily the lyrics. Sometimes, the melody alone portrayed the artist's intent. Whether an inspiring, joyful, or somber tune, the performer's vibe and passion determined the listener's emotional output.
The orchestra's performance in the projection lacked fervor. Professional. Skilled. Technically flawless.
But passionless. Devoid of spark and inspiration. Their performance would entertain an audience. Fulfill their obligations.
Boring.
Mozart or Beethoven would cry in their graves if they'd witnessed. Aubrey sympathized. Music deserved better. Deserved performers willing to give it their all and bare their soul.
She'd gladly provide. Would her fans appreciate her offerings though?
"Whatever," Aubrey dismissed the projection and shrugged. "Anyways. Tomorrow's our performance. Ready for it?"
Her bandmates nodded. Aubrey grinned.
"Awesome. Let's get practicing!"
----------------------------------------
The venue outside "The Shadowed Nook" tavern brimmed with patrons eager to witness Unhallowed Harmony's performance. Aubrey spied their excited chatter and their animated expressions as they conversed amongst themselves.
Nice. They drew a bigger crowd tonight. Probably about... three hundred or so attendees. More than their previous performances. Word spread. Most of them looked like regulars, judging by their familiar faces, but Aubrey noticed the influx of newcomers—all locals from Gallows Row or workers from the factories.
She spotted Thomas. Aubrey waved and flashed her pearly smile. Thomas enthusiastically acknowledged her.
Good. Spreading the word.
Aubrey and her band huddled and prepared in the backroom. Each tuned their respective instruments: Aubrey checked and tuned her guitar. Liza tightened the bowstring and inspected the tautness of her violin's strings. Thaddeus adjusted the tuners and calibrated his modified bass guitar. Cedric tested the tension and tightness of his drum set.
Each performed their pre-performance rituals and ensured their instrument's peak condition.
Aubrey utilized a modified warm-up regimen—vocal fry and lip trills instead of scales and humming.
Soon the appointed time arrived. Since the tavern wasn't big enough to accommodate their band and audience comfortably, the proprietor had arranged a performance outside.
Unhallowed Harmony exited the tavern and took their position at the makeshift stage constructed specifically for their shows. Aubrey surveyed the area.
A cluster of lanterns suspended from a metal frame provided illumination. The arrangement cast the stage and surrounding area in a soft yellow glow. A warm ambiance. The audience packed the tavern's outdoor seating and spilled into the side alleys. Some even perched upon rooftops or perched upon crates and barrels.
Unhallowed Harmony launched into their setlist.
Aubrey belted out the vocals and strummed her guitar. Thaddeus accompanied with a steady bassline. Cedric's percussion supported the beat. Liza's violin filled the performance with melodies and harmonies. Together they conjured a sonorous spell that enraptured their audience.
The theme for tonight's set centered around empowerment. Inspiration. Resilience. Aubrey incorporated lyrics that championed the exploited. Those downtrodden and burdened by the weight of an oppressive society. Songs that rallied and encouraged listeners to rise against adversity.
Aubrey sang her truths. Extolled the masses to embrace their anger and frustrations, and channel them into a call to action. Into a demand for change.
Their crowd's reaction reflected the theme.
Aubrey reveled in the feedback—positive emotions radiating from the crowd. Euphoric. Invigorating. Powerful. So potent her spectral stomach gorged itself.
Feed. Feed. FEED.
Aubrey's instincts drove her, demanding she sang louder and played her guitar with greater intensity. Demanded she captivated her audience with her song and drew forth greater volumes of emotion.
FEED.
Her voice boomed. Her fingers flew. Hellion's Cry's strings thrummed. Aubrey channeled her inner rockstar persona and delivered a performance worthy of her former fame.
The hunger dissipated. The initial frenzy ebbed. A new emotion arose within her—a sense of achievement.
A sense of contentment and fulfillment replaced the ecstatic euphoria. She smiled and immersed herself in the moment, singing for a crowd—belting out soul-rending tunes—and earning their appreciation never ceased to thrill her. This new life had become hers. Become theirs.
They rocked the venue.
Their first encore proved a roaring success. Aubrey relished the applause and gave her bandmates fist bumps before launching into their second setlist. They played and performed several more songs. Each number provoked thunderous applause and rapturous cheering from their audience.
Eventually, their performance concluded. Aubrey thanked the crowd and accepted their praise. Thaddeus collected their donations—pence, farthings, and a few shillings piled within a metal tin.
"Fantastic show!" the tavern's proprietor commended. "Biggest crowd we ever had!"
Aubrey acknowledged the compliment. "Thanks."
"No. Thank ye lass," the proprietor offered a grateful smile. Aubrey noticed a gold canine and wondered whether it was a prosthetic or natural. "Ye did wonders fer business. Biggest night we ever had. Drinks and ale've flown out the taps! Yer welcome to perform whenever ye please."
"Appreciate it." Aubrey accepted the generous offer.
Nice. More venues meant more coin. Win-win.
The tavern proprietor departed and tended to his rowdiest customers.
"Excellent performance Aubrey," Thaddeus joined her and commended. "'Twas a resplendent showing. Well executed and impeccably delivered."
"Thanks, Thaddy," Aubrey smiled and regarded her bandmates.
Cedric and Liza discussed something. Whatever topic seemed riveting. Both exchanged their opinions, and neither party backed down.
Aubrey sauntered towards the pair. "Hey, Ceddy. Liza. What're you two talking about?"
Cedric grunted and responded. "We were debating on whether a drum solo or a violin solo would sound better for our next show."
"Violin solo," Liza declared. Cedric scowled.
"Drum solo," Cedric countered.
"Violin solo," Liza repeated.
"Drum Solo."
Aubrey intervened before the debate escalated. "Okay. Relax. Relax. No need to argue. We can have one song with a drum solo and another song with a violin solo. Fair?"
Both Cedric and Liza regarded Aubrey. "Agreed."
Whew. Crisis averted. Aubrey exhaled and relaxed her shoulders.
"Good. Glad we settled that," Aubrey glanced at the tavern. "Anyway. Let's finish packing up and get out of here before we attract any undue attention."
Thaddeus joined the trio and voiced his agreement. "Sound judgment Aubrey. 'Twould prove imprudent lingering post-performance. Our notoriety may incite unfavorable encounters."
"Yep. Let's pack up."
As they departed from the stage and headed into the alleyways, the System notifications pinged in her head.
[You've acquired a moderate amount of experience]
[Your rank has increased from Andante to Moderato]
[You have 2 unused Talent Points]
[You have 2 unused Ability Points]
[You can increase two of your attributes by one grade]
Aubrey concealed her triumphant grin.
Fuck yeah!
Her suspicions proved correct. The System also rewarded her for performing onstage and entertaining her fans. The experience awarded for live performances exceeded playing music at the abandoned cathedral.
Two talent and ability points. One attribute grade-up for each. Fantastic progress. She had to do more singing.