--- LARIEN ---
Reiaran worked smoothly. It was a steady machine that many people didn’t really notice, but it was a machine that Larien was absolutely dedicated towards keeping together. He used to take pride in his position in the city, the only one between the whole place and complete social upheaval.
But the longer it went on, the more Larien was simply tired of the whole thing. He was tired of going over the accounts of who left the city walls and who came back. He was tired of keeping order, but being tired of it did not give him permission to slack on his duty. He did his job with the precision of a general and whenever his superiors came knocking, he gave them reports that were orderly and easy to read.
“You’re wasted here, captain!” The queen’s own scribe remarked one day, leafing through the pages of neat handwriting and neater calculations. “You should be on the accounts with skills like these, not patrolling an out of the way city that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“I don’t plan on leaving this place and forgetting about it. Unless her majesty demands me to leave, I’d rather stay here and keep Reiaran and my men safe.”
The scribe clicked his tongue, glancing at the last two pages, “Well, I’m going to get that magistrate of yours to pay you more then, a man who works this effectively needs to at least be paid like it.”
Larien nodded slowly, “I’d appreciate that.”
“Of course, you’d get paid more if you accepted a transfer to the capitol, -as either a scribe or a soldier- so just keep that in mind for the future.” He tapped the ledger, “your recruitment is lower than ever, why’s that?”
Larien frowned slightly, “Sir, anyone who was going to join up already has, the city is filled with children of the lost soldiers who want nothing to do with battle and veterans who were happy to put down the sword. Travelers who end up staying are rare and people who move out are more likely to leave their house for squatters than sell it. It’s not a great time to be a recruiter for the queen’s military.”
The scribe sighed, looking out the window at the city, “I’m sure it’ll pass eventually, but some of the queen’s relatives might get ideas about seizing the throne while we’re weak. Reiaran would be a terrible blindspot to hit, especially with the old palace here.”
Larien nodded, “All the more reason for me to stay here and keep watch of things.”
--- ILLILA ---
Knowing a city is an artform. Knowing who to talk to for a few extra coins, knowing what the best routes are from one end of the city to the other, knowing when to pass through the shipyard to avoid the press of people. If one doesn’t know a city, they aren’t just handicapped, they’re also missing something beautiful.
Illila felt as if she was part of the city as she flowed in and out of traffic, slipped through alleys, and even managed to catch the owner of the bakery in a good enough mood that she gave her the loaf half off! What a nice lady, she’d have to find out when her birthday was.
The city was like an orchestra and somehow it seemed like Illila was the only one who could hear it. There was only one part she wished she couldn’t hear.
Illila felt her feet slow as she passed by the ancient palace, the silence surrounding it was almost painful. It was like a hole in the heart of Reiaran that could never be filled, pulling the music to a close as the conductor became lost in thought. Oh Orien above, let that hole be filled. Illila would never admit out loud that she wished things were different, but the longer she stayed in this city, the more she was sure of it. Reiaran was suffering.
She could hear it in the music of the city; as beggars slowly increased in number, as prices slowly increased, as soldiers were called away to the capitol to resolve crowds of rioters and their families followed them, leaving empty houses without anyone new to fill them.
It was a slow kind of suffering, and Illila imagined it wasn’t nearly as bad as when the Last King had ruled; the city itself, it’s future, was still suffering
However, Illila couldn’t imagine what would be able to fill that gaping hole.
--
Her hands swept gracefully across the keys, tapping out the tune that currently filled her soul, beautiful, powerful, awesome.
The song rose and fell as she worked all her frustration into it, she didn’t make any mistakes in the sound but she was prepared to tweak what people heard if she messed up. Sound mages were usually musicians, but for Illila it somehow felt like even more than that, like the universe itself sometimes took hold of her fingers and helped them to move where they were unable.
That ease was almost terrifying sometimes, but her old master said it just meant she could get lost in the song and experience it in a way no one else could. And so Illila played, crafting a masterpiece and pouring her soul into it. It hit the grand ending all at once and she felt as if everything stopped for a moment to witness that glorious conclusion.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
That last part was just her imagination though. Nothing stopped to hear it, not the people in the tavern behind her, not Siorah who was cleaning the tables, the world moved on, unconcerned about her.
It was just like that sometimes.
Illila started on a cheery song about the lost sage, barely listening to the lyrics some folks belted out. Her fingers wavered on the keys and after a moment she stopped, casting an illusion of sound so no one would realize she’d stopped unless they glanced at her.
As artists, we have two modes; transcendently brilliant and barely functional. Usually we end up somewhere in the middle, but every so often there are those days with both extremes. Sometimes a painter will create a masterful work with sweat and tears and all that, but right afterward they mourn at the lack of attention it gathered.
Today Illila was that painter, except she was a musician, and she would much rather be writing down the notes she’d flown across just minutes before than entertaining Nightwind tavern. Unlike many artists though, Illila didn’t need to write it down to remember that sweet bliss of freedom. She knew that she could find it again.
--
Illila packed up for the night, cleaning the piano and noting again the keys that needed to be tuned a bit just in case she got the money for the tools one day. She was under no disillusions though that she was the only one who noticed the slightly off-key twang that heralded the piano’s age and neglect.
She wiped off the seat even though she couldn’t see anything on it, straightened some of the untouched music sheets laying on top, and finally ended up helping Siorah wipe down tables and put up chairs so they could start mopping. It was about four in the morning and despite a single man who’d passed out drunk at some point in the night, the whole time had been fairly uneventful.
Just like every shift.
Part of Illila wondered again if a great adventure was just the fancy of her mind, it didn’t really seem all that likely for anything exciting to happen in her life, besides the incident in the palace dungeon with the necromancer, but she’d been terrified that entire time so it didn’t count.
She really should check up on Eliax, it had been at least a couple of days, right? It felt just like yesterday-
Siorah folded her arms with a glare.
Illila realized she was getting distracted again, “Right right, tables!” She started scrubbing at a particularly tough part, “Did you ever get that flute, Sia?”
Siorah sighed and shook her head, ignoring Illila.
Sparks, why did this always happen? “Um… that was quite a bit ago, wasn’t it?”
The look she gave in response could have killed a boar. Thankfully there were no boars present. “Can you not act all sparking friendly? You never talk to me outside of work. I had to ask Sen if I could not be scheduled with you anymore, but apparently he forgot again.” She turned away and lifted a few chairs onto their tables with a clang.
Illila wilted, realizing finally that it had been quite a while since she’d worked with Siorah. That wasn’t her fault, she just didn’t think of people unless she saw them, but that little voice in the back of her mind got stronger every time she realized she hadn’t talked to someone in five months.
You’re a terrible friend.
She had to be, Siorah would know things like that.
--- HIVREN ---
“Do you ever think that maybe Eliax is insane?” It was only one of many days when she hadn’t been seen by anyone. At first Hivren assumed that she was just hanging out with that bard friend of hers, but as the days ticked by, he was becoming increasingly certain that she’d dropped off the face of virna. Occasionally he would catch her at the library, and she was going through those books he’d shown her at an alarming rate.
The rest of the group blinked at Hivren in confusion, eventually Raendus spoke, “The girl who called me ‘shifter boy’ when she forgot my name? I haven’t thought about her much. Is she your girlfriend?”
Hivren sighed, “No, she’s not.”
Jiuhen perked up at the mention of someone’s love life and layed across the table in a disturbingly casual fashion, propping his head up with his elbows and wiggling his eyebrows at Hivren, “You do like her though, I can tell that much.”
“Only enough to be worried about her mental health.”
Jiuhen frowned, “Sparks, you aren’t even lying, are you! What will it take to get you to pursue someone? I don’t even care if you start courting a dragon, I need to see you fall for someone.”
Hivren blinked several times at the crazy tuvei before letting out the breath through his teeth, “Jiuhen, you know how I’m technically a noble, right?”
Jiuhen groaned and flopped his face into the table, “Pleeeeeaaseeee don’t tell me you were betrothed as a baby like in those cheesy stories the queen keeps writing…”
“Uhhh no. But before she died my grandmother made it quite clear that if I went after a girl that wasn’t at least well off, she would haunt me until I joined her in the grave.”
There was silence for quite a bit before Givei perked up, “So you need an exorcist?”
“Great idea!” Jiuhen shouted, pointing back at Givei, “We’ll get Hivren a girlfriend or something and then exorcize his grandma!”
The two of them bumped fists and it made a weird clicking noise at impact that Hivren kept forgetting to expect. When all of your friends had built in armor, interactions were quite a bit different. His mind wandered for a bit before he realized the two of them were now plotting all sorts of illegal things, like breaking into the repository or hiring a soul mage.
“You know what,” Raendus added, “I know a guy who could cast it if we get a hold of how it works.”
Jiuhen grinned, “You, my friend, are on the team! Team ‘get Hivren a girlfriend!’”
Givei frowned, “But not Eliax, you said he doesn’t like her that way.”
The empath glared at Hivren, “Which is too bad since that one would be so easy, they’re practically the same person! They read, they both have no idea how to interact with people, and they both have been immune to my matchmaking prowess...”
“I thought you gave up on matchmaking after the Siorah incident.” Hivren finally pointed it out as a last resort.
Everyone glanced at Raendus, whose face flushed blue with embarrassment. “That one could have worked if we weren’t so stupid.”
Jiuhen shook his head, clicking his tongue at Hivren, “That’s a low blow mister, we don’t talk about failures here.”
They kept on and on, eventually Hivren had to point out that he didn’t want his grandmother exorcized, and that he wasn’t going to let them influence his lack of a love life, thank you very much. But none of them were listening.