Chapter One
There is a spot in the city that's perfect for a busker with some skill to hustle some easy money. Unlike the various spots in High Street that depend on the momentary charity of passers-by, this spot was located on a "cross roads", between two walk paths connecting a pub, a cafe, a diner and a French restaurant, the common denominator between them is that nothing on their menu cost less than twenty dollars, and so regardless of their patron's preferences, the people that made their way to the Cross Roads were likely doing well for themselves, and when pandered to correctly, were very generous to their entertainers, human or otherwise.
It was a good night for music, Kaspar thought as he straightened out his fringe and tied up his hair. It was a warm night; the stars were out, the wine was flowing, and the city was lively. He unclasped his guitar and set up his amplifier. There were lots of people out and about and each of these places were packed with patrons. He should let loose and harvest a veritable bouquet of emotions tonight.
His empathetic senses tingled. Somewhere on the balconies there were drops of excitement falling into a previously undisturbed pond of relative content. The drops rippled, and those sensitive to the shifting mood glanced around for the source of sudden change in atmosphere. How could he not feel proud? Without any announcement, he'd been recognized, without playing a single note, he had caused a small stir. Perhaps he was making a big deal over nothing, but for street musician; he feel like that it was a subtle achievement to be proud of, and so as he finished set up his mic and plugged in his guitar, he grinned shamelessly. Tonight was going to be a very good night.
He plucked the first few bars of Prelude in C major (by Johann Sebastian Bach) and announced himself to the patrons of the various establishments before him. "Ladies and Gentlemen, My name is Kaspar Lafayette and tonight; I have the privilege and pleasure to perform before you. Any coin you can give is greatly appreciated, but don't feel pressured, praise and applause is just as precious." He spoke as he played the complicated piece of classical music simultaneously, his voice projected by the microphone and amplifier he didn't actually need.
His right hand plucked the strings with precision timing as his left danced on the fret board, it didn't take long for him to achieve flow; his musician's heart beat became the steady rhythm for his hands weave the magic of melodies and harmonies in perfect unison and flawless economy of motion. And gently, ever so slightly, he let his magic seep into the music.
Prelude in C major was a serene introduction, it lulled audience into gentle docility, and he sipped on their comfort. Next he played Kotaro Oshio's mysterious "Twilight" and supped on their curiosity and excitement, their wonder and awe. This was then followed by Isaac Albeniz's "Asturias", a thunderous piece that ignited fear and tension. He took them upon a roller coaster of emotions, each time breathing in the very feelings he evoked within them. He feasted on their joy and sorrow, their romance and horror, he dined upon their very souls.
At the end of each piece, he let them rest, a moment to catch their breath before he'd inevitably steal it again. The more fortitudinous approached him eagerly, dropping coins and notes (even phone numbers) into his open guitar case, and though he'd heard their questions a several times before; "Who are you?", "Where did you come from?" they were highlighted by the same flushed excitement, a thing he never tired of feeding. It helped that he had an androgynous form; a thin frame and an innocent smile. He even applied make up to make his cheekbones look even more pronounced, and his eyes popped. He flirted with the ladies, flattered the men, and then he sent them both away to join the rest of the audience torn between wanting more, and wanting to see the next performance.
By the end of an hour, he had drained his audience (now grown considerably) dry of emotion, and lined his guitar case with an envious amount of cash and coin. Despite their exhaustion, they applauded vigorously and cheered when he announced the end of his performance. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" he declared, basking in their cheer, waving vigorously to his new fans. "My name is Kaspar Lafayette, and you've been a wonderful audience, the best any musician could ever hope for. If you'd like to book a house concert, I can be reached via my agent. If you just want to say "hi" you can find me on my social media page, or playing at a random spot in the city. Thank you, thank you again! Thank you for having me, and have a lovely evening!" he bowed to thunderous applause.
As he packed up his gear, he felt the sloshing of emotional energy swirling within him, begging to be used. He smiled, this much Glamour would keep his Mask charged for a month, easily, keep him assuming a human shape and wander around the city with none the wiser. Alternatively, he could burn through it now and have a really dope three days, with everyone rushing to please him, and allowing him to do as he pleased. Oh decisions, decisions… Emotional Manipulation was such a fun and convenient power to have.
This was how Kaspar's kind; Changelings, earned their Glamour, the emotional fuel for their Magic. While vampires supped on blood, Changelings feasted upon emotion. As a musician, this was the most obvious and enjoyable way for him to do so. There're many unfortunate Changelings that did not have the particular talents that he had, their bodies twisted and metamorphosed by their former Faerie captors for different purposes, rather than for the entertainment that Kaspar was. As it was, he made the most of it. Reality was difficult enough for a Changeling, and he was not about to spurn the advantage of his abilities simply because they came from a horrific place.
Just as he finished packing his gear, Kaspar gazed up and was startled by the hulking figure that had appeared. The man was six feet two, easily, though he held himself in a way that made him seem taller. He wore a white shirt, tailored to fit, golden cufflinks, and a knowing smile upon his face.
"That was an enchanting performance, young man."
Kaspar grimaced inwardly. There were certain key words that revealed one Changeling to another, and though they all shared the experience of fleeing from Faerie together, it unfortunately didn't necessarily mean that they were all friends that had each other's best interests in mind.
"Yes, sir." He said politely, "I put my heart and soul into it." It was coded confirmation that he had indeed enchanted his music slightly to elicit the overwhelming emotional response that it did. "I hope you enjoyed it." I hope you don't punch me in the face.
"I certainly did, it was a marvelous performance." He nodded, which eased the tension Kaspar had been feeling, "I'm sure the Baroness would be delighted to hear it as well."
He grimaced inwardly, again. This man, whomever he was, was likely a Knight of Lady Cresselia, the Baroness of the local Freehold, whom most changelings in the area had sworn fealty and given tribute to in exchange for her support and protection. It was not as though Kaspar had any particular grievance with her, t'was simply that he didn't need her support or protection, and swearing fealty and giving tribute went against his free spirit mentality.
Having said that, he'd rather not be punched in the face by a Knight.
"I would be honored to play before the Baroness," he hoped he choked with convincing shock and humility. "Do I… go see her now?" He could always just run away when the Knight was no longer watching.
The Knight shook his head and smiled kindly, "No, Child. You will be summoned accordingly at an appropriate time via an invitation."
"And… how would I receive this invitation?" Surely the Baroness even with all her resources, couldn't possibly keep tabs of every Changeling that wanders in and out of her domain? Surely.
The Knight smiled, somewhat amused, "You've made quite an impression today, you announced yourself and your contact details quite loudly. It would not be difficult to find you."
"I see." Shit. "I look forward to receiving the invitation." Fuck.
The Knight nodded and walked away.
There were several ways for Changelings like Kaspar to earn their mana, the fuel for their magic. It was unfortunate that he drew the attention of a powerful Changeling and his no doubt even more powerful mistress. Despite the big haul of emotional energy he'd collected, tonight was not a very good night, and probably the start of something much worse.