Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 125: Aensgar on the Redwater

Toren Daen

Denvish held a notepad in front of him as he looked at me with obvious discomfort. The bulbous man was still ever the planner. "Have you re-sealed your strings with rosin, my lord?" he asked.

I looked over my violin, inspecting the aether beast hairs. "I have," I replied.

The planner shifted uncomfortably. "May I ask another thing, Lord Daen?"

I sighed. Ever since my display of power in front of the Fiachran Bloods outside the canal-bound city, Denvish–who I'd since learned was assigned as my personal planner for these concerts–had been remarkably shifty and nervous. I couldn't decide if I preferred this or his constant badgering, and the indecision made me equally uncomfortable.

"You may," I allowed.

"The guest roster has been entirely filled," Denvish said slowly. "You should make sure you know the basics of every family here," he started, then caught himself. "I mean, it would be in your best interest–"

"I understand," I said wearily, cutting him off. "I'm ready for this show."

Denvish sensed the dismissal, leaving with a covert bow. I watched him go with conflicted eyes.

I was currently holed up in the back rooms of the Crimson Pool Theater preparing for my performance. As far as I could tell, the medium-sized theater was even more packed than my last venue on the outskirts of Fiachra. Word of my strange abilities–and strange connections–had gotten around.

All around me, people were hustling with last-minute preparations. Lighting crews, recording teams, and others all darted back and forth, making sure everything was perfect. Whenever they crossed my path, they averted their eyes, saying a quick "My lord," before continuing on with their task.

"Your previous display against those upstart Bloods has cemented you as a true noble in the eyes of these people," Aurora said. Her clockwork avian construct fluttered on my shoulder, a sound like metal-on-metal resounding outward with a whirr. "It is something you must learn to accept, even if it hurts the heart."

And that was the kicker, wasn't it? I know, I thought back with a bit of sadness. The point of that show of power was to speak with the language of highbloods. If I immediately start telling these workers to treat me like an equal, it will damage that blossoming image. I'm just used to being treated like a person; not like an unsheathed knife.

Ironically, this was the first time I'd experienced what it was like to be treated like a lord. I hoped I could eventually wear away these people's reservations, but it would take time and effort to do so while also maintaining the respect of the noble Bloods which I hoped to influence.

"You've learned this game of politics quickly," Aurora said. The puppet tilted its head. "The rewards you wish to reap are all functions of patience. The seeds you have planted must take root and grow before you start trimming their leaves."

I looked up as I sensed someone approaching. I smiled lightly as the aging seamstress employed by Bloodstone Elixirs navigated their way through the crowd with a few young women in tow. I stood as she reached me, stowing my violin back into my dimension ring.

"Lady Veza," I said, bowing slightly. The woman was impeccable with her fashion sense and my clothing matched. I was wearing the same dark gray outfit with a maroon vest as the last concert. "Pleasure to see you again. Are you here to make sure I haven't drenched my clothing again?"

The seamstress huffed slightly. Her gray hair was tied back into a perfect bun, which only seemed to make her more severe. "Lord Daen," she said respectfully. "With all due respect, the clothing I made for you was utterly ruined by that stunt you pulled. For the sake of branding, it cannot happen again. Do you understand?"