Nightingale

Chapter XVI

P A R T   O N E

Empress Nightingale

        As the rest of the world was asleep, two brothers began their morning even before the dawning sun could even come to greet them. 

        The older brother kneels before a small kettle that hung by its rusted handles over a makeshift fireplace. Seizing two stones, the young man scratches the two rocks together until a small spark ignites the anticipated wood of the firepit. 

        A small crown of light breaks through the darkness. Orange and pink colored rays slowly come to reach the cave, allowing a hint of light to the young man as he cooked.

        The water within the pot boiled to life, bubbles of air bursting to the surface. The man pours a handful of white grains into the kettle only to accidentally burn himself. He groans lowly, flinching back as the sizzling heat of the pot hisses fiercely at him.

        As he finally finishes, the young man places two bowls of rice on the floor along with two pairs of wooden chopsticks. He receives two small cups and places them on each side of the large bowl only to then grab his netsuke and place it before one of the dishes. 

        A soft smile forms upon his lips. Despite how exhausted he felt, the young was able to still feel at peace as he turns to the sight of his little brother.

        The boy was thin, with a narrow face that was dominated by his messy hair. The older sibling frowns. His little brother was utterly tired. The exhaustion of work is shown through the bags beneath his eyes. They were beginning to form at only such a young age. The folds of the child's blanket move in sync with the rise and fall of his chest as he slept.

        Quietly stepping towards her, the young man kneels down at his brother's side. He gently pushes aside the strands of hair from his face, causing the boy to slowly open his eyes.

        "Good morning, Beowulf," the older male greeted him.

        The little boy mustered up a smile, "Good morning, Grendel."

        The two brothers sit beside the fireplace and began to eat their breakfast. It was the same routine every morning of every day. 

        "I've been thinking lately..."  Beowulf spoke through mouthfuls of food, "Why couldn't we have been born into a mansion...?"

        Grendel chuckles, "I feel that way too." Finishing his meal, Grendel grabs a wooden box and opens it to reveal a large number of coins. He places in a bronze coin inside and hands it over to his little brother, who stores it away in a hidden crevice of the cave's wall. "That's why you and I have to work hard every day. One day we'll get our own mansion and have great feasts every day."

        The young man grabs his netsuke and gives his little brother a small embrace as the bell chimes from afar. Grendel often performs in the streets of the local town, taking any coins that were thrown his way by passersby. 

        It too was time for Beowulf to get to work.

- - - - - -

        

        The market was drowning in a sea of people. Not a single empty place could be spotted between the stalls. The footpaths were crowded with stalls selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, or meat roasting on roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust-red and dusty yellow piles, or spilled bright green from sacks as large as feed bags. Rich and unfamiliar scents linger through the boy's senses.