Martin was feeling very glum.

He had been for days now, two days as matter of fact, and today was the third.

It didn’t help that he knew the cause too, because Martin knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to change anything about it.

It had all happened three nights ago when for once in his life he was left alone and unwatched, for once in his life he was free to go and do whatever he pleased, and for once in his life he was able to go out and mingle amongst peasants and plebs and even have the chance to experience a musical performance for the first time.

That night… had been the best night of Martin’s life.

And now… it was done.

The music… it had been passionate yet relaxed, joyful yet mournful, intricate yet clear, but always, always, utterly sublime.

The entire night he had sat there transfixed as he felt his emotions twist and turn and rise and fall all through the night at the behest of that man’s fingertips as they pulled out such divine melodies, from what seemed like must have been the glory of the Source itself, all done on that marvellous musical box of his.

After the man had finished and retreated away at the end of his performance in the small hours left of the early morning, Martin had left the bar dumbstruck afterward.

He just… walked out of there… and kept on walking.

His mind, body and soul, all were only occupied by the songs and sounds of that surreal minstrel whirling around his mind and heart.

It was only when a grumble of protest surfaced from his belly that he was able to pull himself from his reverie, to then realise that while he had been walking about in his aimless trance, the rest of the night had unfortunately gone by and the Sun was now well over the horizon.

…He had somehow wandered the entire night in a daze.

Now aware, and realising the amount of time that had transpired and what that disastrously meant, Martin quickly and with great horror found the nearest peasant and had her direct him to the Institute supported inn where his family was staying for the duration of their stay here in Mellawin.

Rushing back, and having to stop twice more to get fresh directions from other peasants he came across, it was only under the light of the midday Sun that he returned to his accommodation and the embrace of his family.

…His father was more furious than he had ever seen him.

His father had given him some breathing room in the city for a couple of days, more for himself than for Martin so that he could give himself some time away from the irritating sight of him rather than afford Martin any freedom, his gracious allowance only on the condition that he be back at the inn by a reasonable hour.

Now, having arrived back instead at midday the next day, the first ever rebellion he had committed against his fathers instructions ever, the man was incensed.

He was immediately confined to a sub basement room that just happened to be within the inn they were staying in, and for the duration of their lodging his father decreed that he would go without food, water or any visitors so that he may learn his lesson for disobeying him. Well aware that while he was a Warrior he was only an Initiate, and so would survive days without food and water but would suffer immensely for it.

His mother had begun to protest but he had immediately accepted and agreed with his father’s decision. He knew well by now that if he protested in any way the man would only get angrier and think up an even harsher way to increase the punishment to enforce his authority.

So, for the two days and two nights of his imprisonment, he sat alone in a dark, damp and stuffy room all by himself, with no breaks or intermissions by anyone or anything, not even sleep.

He did make some attempts at growing his mana and progressing his Path, but he was too distracted for that.

Alone as he was, confined as he was, hungry as he was, thirsty as he was… he wasn’t bored.

Because for all that time, he delved into the memories that were the euphoria of that night.

They… were worth any torture he discovered for himself as he pondered alone in that dark little room.

But with this self discovery, also came great sadness.

The music of that man had changed his life for the better, forever, but with him in this room and then straight onto the next ship available to leave this place, he will likely never hear his melodies again.

The notion dominated his thoughts completely, turning his initial glee into a long drawn out despondency as he waited alone in that room for a departure that would take him away from what may be the greatest happiness of his life, now to only have it consequently ripped away from him.

Two days later on the morning of their departure, his Father came down to his room and let him out without a single word. Immediately after he and the rest of his family walked out of the inn and onto a carriage that then drove them down to the docks to a ship that awaited to deliver them away from this place.

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Once at the port he got up, still not having said a word to anyone to his mother’s distress, exited the carriage, walked up the ramp to the ships deck, and prepared himself for his now new life of joylessness.

…But then… he heard…music?

A flute. He had sometimes heard the edges of their tone somewhere or other but he had never heard one so closely before, and in such a… romantic tune.

Curiosity driving him despite his depression, he walked the edging path along the ship's exterior as he followed the sound. He turned a corner to see who it was that was playing such a passionate piece when…

…he gasped.

This…How is this possible?

*****

Looking at the young man in front of me, I could only wonder what had caused him to be so astonished by me.

Admittedly, my musical skills were fantastic, but I hadn’t even gotten to the build up to the song’s crescendo, still only in the opening movements setting the scene.

The young man though, a boy really, maybe 16…17 years old at most, did actually look somewhat familiar.

It was only when my eyes wandered away from his face to what he was wearing that I realised where I had seen him before.

His first night. The first night of his first ever performance. He had been the Warrior that had somehow made his way into the audience and for some reason had tried to hide himself away from everyone else.

Realising what I was now standing before, I removed the flute from my lips, took the appropriate posture, and lowered my head to the young Initiate Warrior all in one smooth motion.

“Forgive me Sir Warrior if I disturbed you with my playing, if I have your permission and forgiveness, I would gladly return to my cabin and ensure that you never need to hear my music again for the duration of th…”

“No, no, no. You mustn’t do that!” the young Warrior abruptly interrupted.

Huh?

Realising the breach in etiquette he had just committed, and I’m sure seeing the surprise at witnessing such a breach on my own face as well, the young man became flustered and tried to recover some sort of calm and poise as one in his position should have, all while I was standing in front of him watching him attempting to do so.

“I was just admiring your amazing music minstrel, there is no need for you to apologise at all. “ the young Warrior said after composing himself, though it was still plain that he wasn’t in the right sorts, and an awkward atmosphere hung in the air between us.

“...I am much obliged to your magnanimity, Sir Warrior. Thank you for your most treasured compliment” I replied formally.

The young man seemed to brighten up at that, and then once more fall into a sort of panic as what seemed to me like what he was trying to figure out what to say next.

But before he could arrive at that decision, another voice, much deeper and much more commanding than any other he had ever heard before, rang out between them.

“Boy. What are you doing?”

At the voice, the boy visibly grimaced and even seemed to pale a bit as he turned around to a figure that was just now coming into my sight from…I don’t know where?

“Father. I was just talking to this…

“Talking? What would you have to talk to a mere peasant about?”

By the end of that sentence the man was now before the both of us, and I was now able to have a clear look at him…

I immediately fell to my knees in genuflection.

The man was early middle aged, with dark green hair perfectly pulled back from the front to the back of his head which looked almost dark enough to be considered black. It framed his dark angled face and likewise his dark green short beard that covered his mouth, all working together to extricate and reinforce the penetrating strength of his blood red eyes.

The man was a little smaller than me, having an obviously muscular yet slim build under his robes though. He was also clearly the father of the boy as they shared the exact same features if for the exception of the boy's more youthful and softer face.

But what really caught my attention…was what he was wearing.

Purple and silver robes, interwoven with symbols and filigree that were all meant to represent one, simple, thing.

Warrior of the Institute Association.

Master Stage.

On my knees with my head down as is the etiquette when an unanointed stands before a Master grade Warrior, I waited in frozen terror as I waited for the Master Warrior’s son to reply.

I couldn’t look up at what was happening, that would be suicide, but I could feel the growing tension well enough as the boy struggled for words while all the while his Father grew increasingly impatient with his nervous muteness.

“You. Peasant” the Master Warrior finally interrupted, fed up with his son “What was my currently mute son talking to you about?”

“My music, Lord Warrior” I instantly answered “ I am a minstrel and was just playing one of my songs on my flute when your son, Sir Warrior, heard and interrupted me.”

“...Minstrel?” the Master Warrior asked, an unmissable note of dislike in that one heart stopping word.

“A wandering minstrel” the young son thankfully interjected before the Master’s anger could grow any further. “With no ties at all to the Pleasure Association.”

“Oh?” the master exclaimed, his anger seemingly abated. “Now that is quite rare. But you would hardly know that from watching him from afar, so why did you approach him anyway… my son?” the Master asked, his deadly attention now once again turned back to his own offspring.

My eyes were still pointed at the wooden deck during this exchange of words, but after the Father posed his new question to his son, I could feel a new dangerous tension in the air, backed up by the young man’s following audible gulp.

“Because…Because I already knew he wasn’t a Pleasure Association musician. He…he is the reason why I returned so late the other night. I… had been out amongst the peasants and had been there to… to… hear him… play” the young man admitted, in a way that was clearly guiltily.

“Well, Well, Well. The reason you disobeyed me was because of this musician now before me, is that it!? He must be quite the astonishing musical genius indeed!?” the Master said as I felt his eyes shift down upon me again.

“...He is Father. He is the greatest musician outside of the musical Sorcerer’s of the Pleasure Association in all the world.” the boy said seriously

Am I?

“Is he?” the Master likewise asked of his son. “Well, we will have to test your oh so great of an evaluation of him then.”

“Peasant.” The Master said, his attention once more directed back at me.

“Yes Lord Warrior”

“Because of your apparently godly talent for music, my son disobeyed for the first time ever in his life two days ago. I had hoped it had been some sign of him growing something of a spine but it seems that you are the cause for his disobedience.”

“As such, we will test whether my son has a spine or not, or if he is a liar or not. At sundown when dinner is served you shall perform for me, my family and retainers, and all the other passengers and crew on this ship and we shall see if you truly have such a claim to being the greatest minstrel peasant alive as my son so confidently states.”

“...Unless you reject my proposal.” The foreboding Master asked threateningly.

“...I am honoured that one so great and mighty as you Lord Warrior would lower himself to listen to the songs of one so puny and beneath you, and I of course will accept your fine proposal so as not to dishonour your greatness in any way.” I reply, still head bent to the floor, on my knees while sweating out cold buckets of perspiration through my clothes.

“Good. We shall see you at dinner then”

With that conclusion, and whilst I am still kneeling before him, the man and his son walk away, only giving me the freedom to leave my position until after I hear their footsteps fade away from earshot.

As I stand up, shouts of the crewmen and the bellows of Captain Koll are sounding all around me as the ship… lurches, leaving the port and setting out for the open Ocean at last.

All while I go to the railing and watch as the docks, the city, and of course that terrible Tower begin to fade from view for the final time.

…Fuck me.

What fresh hell is this?