Fiddler awoke alone, half lying on the ground and half leaning against the wall. He was still young and agile and the awkward position did not to leave his back aching. Honestly, he’s had worse. At least it was summer and the shining houses had been absorbing the heat all day in a way that had lasted through the night until the next morning. Now the warmth still radiated from it, like a faint glow.
His morning routine included checking his violin case for its contents: A small sack of money, rarely any food and – of course – the instrument itself.
Now, only Speckles was still missing but that was nothing new. He would come back when he was hungry or bored or just needed someone who would not yell at him to get out of their face.
There were still a few bites of stale bread left. That was all he had been able to pay for last evening. He decided to skip breakfast and leave the bread for lunch or maybe dinner.
Something big was going on in town today, he could sense. There was a smell of fresh food hanging in the air, the sound of music lingered around every corner and the streets were packed with people. The bustle around him put a bounce into his step. If there was a festival in town today, that surely explained the amount of peace guards and their strict orders yesterday. The royal family wanted to present Principia at its best. Sometimes that involved clearing the streets from any unwelcome creature or person.
There was no reason for this thought to ease Fiddler’s concern, yet, it was a familiar thought. Things simply were as they always had been.
If he was lucky, maybe he could find a good spot to play his music today. He probably would have more competition than usual. And maybe, just maybe, he could use his Blessing for a little while, make some people smile whether they wanted to or not. The right note could put any thought into their heads. They would happily give him all of their money as well. But Fiddler did not dare go that far. It had never felt right. And it never would. His natural talent had to be enough to make people happy upon passing by.
He only had to turn a few corners to reach the widest market place where the festival was already in full swing. To be honest, Fiddler had no idea what was being celebrated exactly, but the process was always the same: Locals in traditional costumes offered piping hot food from their respective province at every corner, later there would be people showcasing their outstanding Blessings on currently empty wooden stages. People in the streets were wearing more than their Sunday bests. Through flashy embroideries on a variety of colors and fabrics, they pledged loyalty to the royal families or their own proud heritage, long lines of pure Blessed blood.
Fiddler loved all these distractions. They made his head turn into every direction; something new caught his eye every time he had barely comprehended the last thing he had seen. It was all so beautiful and exciting. He mumbled his compliments to a middle aged lady that was sporting the most pompous hat he’d ever seen, but she barely pretended to hear him, crinkling her nose. He knew that face. She probably thought he was going to beg her for money. That was what he looked like anyway. Fiddler, however, did not mind how little he fit into the fancy, celebrating crowd. His freckled smile was as big as any of theirs.
He was momentarily startled out of his trance-like fascination when he heard a familiar chirping noise approaching him. He did not turn around. Something small and almost weightless leaped on his shoulders, a set of sharp claws sunk into his skin with such urgent force that he had to take a few balancing steps back.
Speckles was angry. He chattered away, pulling at Fiddler’s hair and scratching his shoulders and back like he really wanted him to keep moving.
“Speckles, slow down. I don’t understand a word you’re saying” Fiddler tried to calm him down, but he could not even get a hold of the monkey crawling back and forth between his shoulders.
“There it is!” A voice called from behind.
Fiddler twirled around, his green eyes widened upon the sight. At least three peace guards pushed their way through the crowd, charging directly at them.
“Oh no. Not again” Fiddler mumbled quietly. He picked up a running pace, his head still turned halfway back as he bumped into a tall man in a shimmering green suit.
“I’m sorry” He shouted back at him, increasing his speed. He had not been seriously chased in quite some time and he felt a little bit out of shape.
There was no safe escape route; no hiding place to run towards. His only option was to run fast enough to lose these guys. So he dashed forward into the next alleyway. If he did not know where he was going, how would the peace guards know? He turned corners at random and took shortcuts he did not even know existed until he had lost all sense of orientation.
He took up speed as he saw a low-hanging balcony. His knees bent just enough to gather up force to reach the handrail in a single jump. He was not particularly graceful, but he was fast as he pulled himself up over the railing and onto the platform.
He would have stayed there, just waiting it out. But the peace guards were clearly still on to him.
“He’s up there!” One of them shouted.
Fiddler had to either think fast or not think at all. He did not even know which of these he was going for this time, as he looked up and saw the second balcony right above him. He climbed the handrail until he got a hold of the platform above. The process was much the same and, thankfully, his arms were no tired yet, although he was lifting not only his own weight but also the weight of a lazy and frightened monkey hiding inside his collar underneath his shirt. His claws would leave red marks on his skin, but Fiddler hardly minded. Not now, anyway.
On the second floor, he scrambled back to his feet. The balcony door was open wide enough to offer a glance into the living room where an old lady had just turned around the corner. She stopped and immediately dropped the silver tray and the tea and biscuits it was carrying.
Fiddler heard the silverware clink and really hoped that nothing was broken.
“I’m sorry!” He yelled, continuing his upward journey. He smacked down a clothing rack on the third floor and accidentally dropped a flower pot onto one of the peace guard’s heads on the fourth one.
The fifth balcony marked the last floor and it was close enough to the flat roof top of the house to pull himself up from there. By now his arms and legs were sore but there was no time to rest.
The peace guards had surrounded the building and one of them looked like he was about to kick in the front door.
He almost thought about playing his instrument. But then he felt selfish for doing so. His Blessing was meant to be shared and not to be used for his own benefit alone, the sisters used to teach him over and over again.
He had to figure out a better idea. Luckily, both houses on either side of the building were close enough to take a risk. He took a run for it. His body left the ground, arms and legs barely flailing as he leaped across the gap between the two houses. His hands neatly grasped the rooftop’s edge and he could feel it cutting into his palms. He hissed as his knees banged against the wall, but his bare feet clung to the shiny smooth surface of Principian architecture like they’d been made for this.
The peace guards had clearly not expected the chase to take place above the ground. So far, they must have stopped following him, he suspected, because he could not hear them anymore. But he was not going to be fooled by that. He still had a long way to go and his soon black and blue knees better be prepared.
From here, the rooftops of Principia looked like a golden crown. Each house marked a single prong of the largest royal symbol in the world. The glistening blue windows looked like diamonds wedged into the pure gold of the city. He jumped from prong to prong, from rooftop to rooftop until he noticed his breath running out and his knees giving in to the weight of each fall.
He was not sure for how much longer he would be able to do this. So he stopped and listened. By now, he was far away from the festivities in the center but he could still hear the faint melodies and cheers of the crowd, carried over by the soft breeze. His breathing was sharp and painful and he shifted his attention to the rhythm of his exhausted heart. He sighed and thought about lying down right here, allowing his strained arms and legs to have a rest and let the sun kiss his sore skin. But after this unwanted morning exercise, he needed something to eat. And he also still had a bone to pick with a certain pet monkey.
But first, he had to be sure that he was safe. He carefully walked around the rooftop, glancing down into the surrounding alleys. They were empty.
He spotted a free clothing line connecting this building to the next one. He undid the knot on his end and used it to swing himself against the wall on the other end. From here, he easily lowered himself onto the ground and into a narrow alleyway.
Finally, something was moving underneath his shirt and he pulled down the neckline to take a look at the confirmed troublemaker. Speckles bared his teeth like he was smiling and the very little amount of anger that Fiddler would have had left inside of him dissolved into playful endearment for his pet.
“What did you do, huh?” He held Speckles tightly, but he still kept him hidden underneath his shirt, just in case. Fiddler had to reinforce receiving an answer by giving him a light squeeze. Speckles objected with a squeal but his head disappeared, only to dive up again, proudly presenting a brand new golden pin, much like the one he had given away just yesterday.
Fiddler was so shocked, his first instinct was to close his shirt again and hide any weird activity from possible viewers. A hushed glance around barely reassured him that no one was watching in this abandoned passage.
Speckles began to struggle, he almost tore up the light fabric until his head finally popped out of the neckline, right underneath Fiddler’s chin. Soon the rest of his body followed, squeezing until Fiddler had to turn his neck in order to allow him better access. The monkey was back on his slim shoulders. He was delighted as he practically shoved the object into Fiddler’s face.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It was the first time Fiddler actually dared to take a look. The pin was better than the one he used to wear. It was real, made out of actual gold.
“Where did you get that from?” He hushed and he would have ripped it right out of those tiny claws, had he not still been afraid to touch it.
Speckles tried to explain, but he was too excited for Fiddler to understand a single noise.
“I don’t want it”
The monkey still would not give up. He demanded for his friend to take the stolen good.
“We have to give it back. You have to give it back. Do you remember who you took it from?”
Speckles turned his head to the side like he was actively avoiding an answer.
“Come on”
Fiddler had never been able to gently knock that stealing habit out of Speckles. He still did not approve of it, though. Usually, the monkey would only steal small things, like food for himself or a little pocket money that Fiddler refused to ever use. But this…this was a big one. If the peace guards had come after them for this…Fiddler did not let his mind wander any further. It was bad. And to think that it had been stolen for him…
The monkey made a movement that looked an awful lot like the shrugging of shoulders. He then proceeded to try and somehow make the pin stick to Fiddler’s chest pocket. When his tiny hands were too clumsy to do that, he simply let it drop right into the pocket. Seeing that his best friend was unusually unhappy with him, he softly bumped his head against Fiddler’s cheek and squeaked in a way that no one could ever resist.
“I’m not done with you yet” Fiddler insisted, but the smile was back on his face. “I’m going to get back to you on this” He sighed, moving forward again. The festival was not over and the day was not wasted yet. There was still a chance to play his music. "Now…let’s see where we are, huh?”
That little morning exercise – nothing Fiddler had not experienced before – had taken them farther away from the market place than expected. But he recognized this part of town after a curious look around.
It was a bit calmer here. The streets were narrow and there was a restaurant or a café in each building. A couple was going for a walk on the other side of the street. They might have come from the park nearby. The colorful seating arrangements outside were mostly empty. Tranquil piano and guitar music came breezing out of some of the restaurants upon passing by. The smell of coffee and sweet pastries followed his every step.
It was even quieter around here than usual. A lot of potential guests must have gone to the festival. It was not a place Fiddler would usually hang out. It was not like he could afford a coffee or – Spirits forbid – a piece of cake. But sometimes he dreamed about having enough money to just walk into one of these cafés, order a hot chocolate and actually be able to pay for it.
There was only one café he had ever seen from the inside. It was one of the smaller ones in the very back of the street. It barely stood out between the flourished, beautifully carved wooden awnings sheltering the windows and doors.
But Fiddler knew that it was cozier and less threatening to someone like him. Here, people did not immediately turn their heads when a boy with holes in his clothes and no shoes entered. If he was lucky and did not show up too often within a single week, he was sometimes able to sponge some of yesterday’s stale pastries.
“You hungry, pal?” He said but it was not actually a question. Speckles was always hungry, more than anyone.
The monkey chirped. He recognized the place as Fiddler headed for their favorite café.
The little bell above the door drew attention immediately, but few customers actually lifted their heads. They had refined their ability to simply not care. There were only five of them; a married couple, two elderly gentlemen and a young girl reading a book. There were currently no staff members around but the smell from the kitchen revealed that someone was brewing coffee in the back.
Fiddler loved the café for the way nothing matched. No two chairs were the same. Most looked like they had just been picked up from the street and added to the collection. Even the staff members had not been hired according to a certain type. In fact, a lot of them were Cursed. Fiddler knew, because most of them were actually marked. Cursed did not usually get jobs in Principia.
While he was still picking a seat at a nice table, Speckles had already taken off towards the kitchen. He had obviously sensed something that Fiddler did not know about until he heard a delightful squeal and giggly laughter coming from the kitchen. A girl followed, loosely holding the monkey in her arms. She was wearing the staff uniform, a black blouse and a dark blue skirt. Her neatly layered black hair looked like it had just been given a good old monkey makeover and that made Fiddler’s smile shine even brighter than normal. Finally a friendly face.
“I thought I’d heard someone come in” Her eyes found Fiddler and she pointed him towards a free seat while Speckles was still clinging to her arm. For a monkey with a general tendency to bite into human fingers, he really did like Nima a lot.
“If this isn’t my favorite waitress” Fiddler greeted her with a grin so big, it was pushing his freckles closer together. He was being honest with her, but he also would have said this to anyone else working here and he would have meant it, still. They were all his favorites, give or take.
“Yeah right” Nima chuckled, but her cheeks turned rosy anyway. “What can I do for you two?”
She put a menu in front of Fiddler as soon as he sat down. Speckles climbed down her arm onto the table as well. He chirped until she put a second menu in front of him.
“Another one for you, of course” She added with a warm smile.
Fiddler took good care to hold the menu the right way as he pretended to have a look at it. The pictures inside gave him a clue not to hold it upside down but the letters and words were meaningless to him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on one bullet point in particular, hoping that Nima would not notice.
“Well…” Fiddler put the menu down and leaned back a little. “…is there any special offer today?” His wink and unnecessary emphasis on half of the question gave him away immediately, but the clumsy bad acting made Nima chuckle.
“Actually…” She took away both menus. “There is”
Fiddler was immediately all eyes and ears. He leaned forward a little like he was expecting her to reveal some kind of secret plan. But she did not lower her voice. “I’ve been experimenting in the kitchen a little this morning. I’ve made this pie, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough to be put onto the menu. Maybe you two can be the judges”
Fiddler and Speckles exchanged a few glances, pretending to be cautious about this generous offer, but, really, their mouths were already watery just thinking about actual fresh made pie, still warm from the oven.
“You know, Speckle’s got a fine taste. I dare say that we are the best judges you could find” He nodded eagerly.
“I thought as much” Nima agreed, smiling warmly. “I’ll be back in five” She left and checked for the other customers before she got the pie.
Meanwhile, the married couple got up to pay and leave. They were laughing blissfully, chattering away as they stepped through the door. The bell went off, but it stopped mid-chime as the door was being held open and someone else entered the café in exchange.
In came a white haired man, older than Fiddler by maybe a few years. He was lean, but his sleeveless, black and white attire was showing off his muscular arms. He did not look like he came here often. In fact, there was a solemn aura to him that did not belong anywhere into this charming little chaos of a café. He still looked familiar, though.
Fiddler knew his way around and he had an impressive amount of acquaintances all over Principia, but he only knew one monk and the man’s traditional attire had immediately given him away as such.
“Noah!” Fiddler yelled from across the café. He eagerly pointed at one of the three free seats at his table. His voice was loud enough to startle Speckles into seeking protection on his friend’s lap.
The white haired man frowned upon hearing his name, but his face softened around the edges when he saw Fiddler. He approached them immediately.
“That was your name, right?” Fiddler chimed with the brutal honesty of a child.
Noah chuckled. “Yeah, you’re spot on…Fiddler” He paused before ‘remembering’ his name, but Fiddler knew that Noah was not the forgetful type, despite their arguably fleeting acquaintance.
Fiddler still wanted to be surprised. “Ooooh, you remember me! Wanna sit with us? We’re waiting for our food”
Noah took a seat opposite to Fiddler, no questions asked. “Sure, I just stopped by for a tea. They have the best one around”
Fiddler shrugged. “I guess I wouldn’t know too much about that, but guess what we’re gonna get in a bit!”
Just then, Nima emerged from the kitchen, one and a half plates of what looked like some kind of banana, toffee and chocolate pie in her hands. Fiddler did not have to surprise Noah anymore and he pointed at the plates in an overexcited gesture.
“What’s that?” Noah tilted his head, glancing at the pie out of sheer curiosity. He did not look overly envious, though.
“I have no idea” Fiddler shot back with a big grin.
Luckily, Nima was here just in time to answer the question. “It’s chocolaty Banoffee Pie. It doesn’t have an official name yet, but you can help me choose one if you like”
“We should name it after Speckles”
Nima chuckled. She was a bit wary, now that Noah had suddenly come to join them. It was always a bit harder for her, the more people were around.
“I think you should try if it is any good first”
“Aaaah” Fiddler waved off her concern. “I have no doubt about that” He leaned across the table and shielded his mouth from Nima’s view, but did not actually lower the volume of his speech.
“She is the best cook around here, trust me” He whispered his not so secret compliments. Nima blushed and smacked him with her kitchen towel.
“Then I’m sure you’re also responsible for the lovely tea you’re always serving here” Noah added, clearly amused as his eyes darted back and forth between the two.
It seemed a little harder to take such compliments from practical strangers and Nima bit her lip, averting her eyes. Fiddler decided that he did not like to see anyone uncomfortable at this table.
“Ah yes. Nima? This is my old friend Noah over there. He’s a monk” That was the extent of what Fiddler knew about this young man. Their first and only meeting had been brief, but memorable. And that was all there was to it.
“I see” Nima put a hand on the notebook at her waistband. “Do you want some pie as well? Or anything else?” She sounded professional, now that she was actually doing her job and she could treat Noah like any other customer.
“I’m okay with a green tea, thank you”
Before Nima left, she gestured towards the still full plates on the table. “And you two feel free to just dig in” She instructed the boy and his monkey who did not need to be told twice.
“You’re an angel, thanks” Fiddler’s mouth was already full as he spoke and he had to watch out not to spit out half of it as he gave Nima an honest and grateful smile.
While Fiddler and Speckles were busy eating, too hungry to take even just the smallest break to catch their breaths, Noah calmly drew a pipe from his inside pocket. He began stuffing it with aromatic spices and herbs.
The last guests were about to pay and Nima took her time to hear their requests, always wearing the same reserved but kind smile on her face. The tea was still brewing in the kitchen and she stood waiting in the door frame, watching Fiddler use both his hands and feet to tell Noah a story. He looked like his audience was a lot bigger than just a monkey and a cleric and that alone made her smile. Perhaps she could get him to play something for everyone later. If she could not be part of the festivities today, maybe he could bring a little bit of the celebrations in here. Nima thought that, today, nothing could really go wrong anymore.
And that was when a loud bang suddenly echoed back and forth between the narrow streets outside. The sound was deafening, it rumbled through the walls. A single cup fell from the shelf and shattered on the ground.
Speckles hid underneath Fiddler’s shirt who nearly choked on his last bite. Noah almost dropped his pipe. And Nima ran towards the door in order to lock up the place.
A second explosion trembled through the earth underneath their feet before she could even reach the door.