A Father's Last Gift

"You didn't want to become bound to an aged merchant, then? You must have been kicking yourself when you came to the Labelle Estate and saw my father. I guess that would also make me your dream come true! Young, adventurous, dangerous in confined spaces. That sort."

Aran inclined his head respectfully, wondering if he was being mocked again. "You are as much as I could have hoped to ask for, my lady." At least, as a Servant, she was. He wasn't entirely sold on the dangerous, confined spaces yet though.

He had looking for a way - any way - out of her asking her more questions that he didn't feel ready or equipped to answer, when a knock came at the door. He didn't know who it was, but a part of him prayed to the divines that it was a serving maid or cook or even the innkeep himself come to tell Aran it was time to earn the nights stay.

"Aran would you get that?"

He didn't waste any time rising from his chair and giving her a polite nod, heading over to the door and opening it up. The girl seemed to sway a little, and he wondered if she might have been drunk. It certainly wasn't good business to let those in your employ lose themself in the drink while they were supposed to be working.

"H- Y- The inn is full. Wanted downstairs."

"I shall be down in a moment, if . . ." The girl turned and ran before he could even finish his assurance, and he wondered if she was going to go vomit, her cheeks colored as they were. Surely she had not. . . No, that was a ridiculous thought, and he pushed it away.

"Scaring the local girls, Aran?" Aran turned to her, puzzled at what she meant. All he had done was answer the door, surely the girl had not been frightened just by his presence. His face was as hard as ice, but usually it took him staring needles into people to intimidate them. "I will meet you downstairs then, Aran."

He moved out of her way as she brushed by him, and he thought he might have seen a bit of a sway in her step. Perhaps she was getting drunk after all. Of course, if his master wanted to get drunk, it only concerned him so far as ensuring she always had a bottle at the ready. Closing the door, he locked it behind him and went to his own room, entering and pulling his shirt over his head.

He took off the rest of his servants clothes, moving over to his saddlebags. Part of performing songs was the presentation, and people wouldn't notice as many mistakes if they had something else to stare at. Unfolding the clothing from his bags, he took out his best clothing and slipped it on, fastening his cloak around him. He checked in the mirror, making sure everything was in place, there were no wrinkles, and everything was perfect, before fetching his flute from his bag. No doubt the innkeep had provided him with a lute downstairs waiting for him again.

Locking his door behind him for what seemed like the fifth time today, he headed downstairs, gathering himself and walking in the stance he had taught Chloe earlier in the day. It was not a pose he often took any more, with others much more befitting a servant, but impressions could be crucial here. Exiting the stairwell, he looked nothing like a servant, and anyone who saw him would laugh at the statement who didn't know any better.

His shirt alone was lordly, a black silk tunic, with gold embroidery running up the sleeves and over the chest. Lace trimmed the bottom of the shirt and his wrists, and the gold formed two horses kicking at one another on their hind legs. His breeches were black with gold embroidery as well, and he strode through the crowd with all the confidence of a king. His shirt and breeches were not the true marvel of his attire though, and even as a servant, he was proud of his cloak.

The chameleon cloak danced in the colors of the inn, reflecting what was around it, changing from the black and gold of his tunic, to the dark drown of the floor, then to the tan color of the oak tables. It even seemed to dance with flame for a moment when he passed under one of the lamps, spots of red shifting through the cloak. He continued forward, doing his best to ignore any of the people in the inn, but seeing Chloe off in perfect view of him would've brought a frown to his face. He was going to have to perform his best, so as not to bring shame on her, but he at least had gathered everyone's attention. He sat on top of the table that had been left for him, as a man who had been playing a lute their for entertainment while they waited on him. As he took his seat, he drew the cloak around him to one side, and the cloth seemed to merge with the table, making it appear for a moment as though half of Aran's body had disappeared from view.

He brushed the cloak aside, taking his flute in both hands, and began to play without a word. The Inn had not grown silent on his arrival, so he began playing an upbeat tune, to which many of the men began singing along with. They were not very good, but the number of them was enough to make up for the poor quality of their voice. Aran did not mind that not all eyes were on him, and he preferred it that way. Many would recognize him from when he played before, so he was not so much of a wonder anymore. Others stared however, but he ignored them. It was a short tune, and he changed into that of a drinking song without missing a beat as the last ended. He had learned the song as the 'Brew of the Brave and True,' but the song was sung differently in every inn. Finishing that, he went on to play song after song for the next hour on his flute. He played many drinking songs, before playing a song about Women, who would sleep with men of a higher station then you, steal your purse, shrewd and tricky. The men laughed and sung it loud, and as song ended, he played the tune for the women's version, of unfaithful men, who cared more about drink and chasing pretty girls then true love. All in all, both sides were pleased by the end, laughing and joking with one another as he switched to a song about spring and harvest.

When people begun singing less, or seemed to be getting too drunk to sing properly, he laid down his flute, while many of the people in the inn cheered. He took a slight bow on the table, picking up the lute, and adjusting the strings to ensure the instrument was on key.

"Why don't you play something that suits the Broken King!"

Aran nearly flinched, looking up with his stone face at the inn. He couldn't see who had shouted out, but he hated that name, and silently cursed the man who had been idiotic enough to let it slip. He wasn't fond of revenge, but there were times. . . Other people inside the tavern lowly voiced agreement, and Aran nearly sighed. Sometimes, it was a strain not to show any emotion. He plucked at the strings on the lute, beginning a sad tune. As he started, he voice sounded sad as well, though his face still showed no emotion.



Aran didn't care much for the song himself, but the inn had grown quiet, and he was at least proud of that. It was an unintelligent song in his opinion, and it had been written about his father. He found the problem with most songs was that the writer got all of the details wrong. The city still stood, and people went on with their daily lives. His father had been hung outside the walls, not inside, and certainly not from the palace. With the people quiet and waiting for more, he began playing again, his voice calm. He started with the Song of Pelinal, the went onto The Warrior's Charge, The Betrayed, the Tale of Tongues. For hours he played, including the tavern in the Bear and Maiden Fair, Jornibret's Last Dance, and Come Ye Maids. He considered juggling but, the crowd seemed to be enjoying his songs, and so he continued with that, eventually switching back to his flute when his voice began to tire. He was not used to singing for hours on end, though he might need to learn how if Chloe decided she wanted him to after this.

At the least, he knew know he would not have to play for free rooms every night, since it seemed she wanted to take the harder road. Needing a break, he finished 'My Love is a Wild Rose,' and motioned for a serving girl to bring him a drink. He backed away from the table as the man who had been playing the Lute earlier returned with Aan's drink himself, and he took the mead, looking at Chloe to see if she would permit him to sit with her.