Silent Song

[The Supreme Watcher]

Salen had just finished band rehearsal. He packed his lute away, and gave the case one last caress, before turning his attention to his bandmates. Don, Jarmith, and Quela looked back at him, not understanding the spectacle of a man fawning over an object like a child.

"What?" Salen asked. "Is it so wrong that I love my instrument?" The others shook their heads. Quela brushed one of her auburn locks behind her ear - which was slightly longer than a human's should be.

"We are simply jealous, Salen," she said, setting to packing away her tambourines. "We are all artists, but you are a genius. We are envious of your talent, your devotion -"

"Bah! His head's big enough, Quela!" Jarmith scoffed, waving a hand derisively. "Make it any bigger, and it'll pop like a worn out bellows!"

"And we certainly wouldn't want to dirty our rehearsal space..." Don noted, always the voice of reason. "It's already costing us ten silvers a week. My father would be incensed if it rose any higher." Don was noble born, from a wealthy trade family that had paid an astronomical sum to acquire land enough to become nobility. Their son spent most of his time in the city, however, and his family seemed content to leave the boy to his dreams - he had business minded brothers to control the family interests.

"Right," Salen said, picking his lute up by its case's handle. "And we wouldn't want your father's ruffians coming and teaching us a lesson."

"Oh, get over it, Salen!" Don retorted. Salen chuckled, and waved to them, and then walked out into the streets.

"That boy's going to get himself in trouble some day," Jarmith said dryly. "Either that or he's going to get us in trouble."

"Most likely the latter," Quela added.

Salen walked out into the streets of the large city, and strolled gaily down the boulevard, humming a song he had been working on that week. Passing a fruit stand, he flipped a coin to the vendor, and as the vendor looked into the air after the coin, he pocketed several times the coin's value in fruit. The vendor smiled and thanked him. Smiling, the musician made his way to the small apartment he lived in, eager to begin his meal.

Life as a musician... was a good life.

[The Supreme Watcher]

... But his life was much more than that. Salen bit into the apple, and looked to the map of the city he had tacked to the wall of his sitting room. Several bold X marks were on it, as well as several very officious looking documents, lifted from the pockets of the lesser nobles' runners. The wonders a bump in the street could unearth. His eyes, accustomed to reading the weighty documents equally as well as meter, scanned one of the documents, and his lip curled into a dark smile.

"Several thousand coins, then?" He asked the silence of his home. He was hatching the sort of plot that a man could retire on, going over each step in his head as if they were the measures of a song. He could hear the crescendos of excitement, the low legato of stealth, the blaring trumpets of struggle, and the hushed strings of intrigue. It would be a simple work, but a weighty one. He trembled with excitement at his brilliance, before turning a serpentine glare to his door. Footsteps.

Salen bolted to move his many canvases to block visibility of the map, and had only just finished as heavy hand falls landed upon his door. The guard, to be certain. No noble would allow knowledge of such a bounty of gold to go undiscovered in the hands of a criminal. With grim determination, Salen slid a poisoned dagger to his palm, and pressed it flat against his lower back, concealing it whilst he drew the door open slowly...