Authors Notes: Hey everyone. Sorry about the very lengthy delay in updating. One thing has led to another for the past several months and I haven't gotten around to this story. I'm terribly sorry, everyone. I'll try to be more diligent in updating this in the future, but this story requires a special mood to write, so don't expect constant updates, but I'm going to try to be better about it. Thanks for all of your support and patience!
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The room slowly brightened, focus finally returning to once exhausted eyes. A brush of her slender hand wiped clear the fog that remained hindering sight. The light that entered the room from the small window in front of her was dim and gray, giving evidence to the overcast skies that hung above the city. Mia brushed a few strands of cerulean hair out of her face and sat forward. Quietly, the young woman studied her surroundings.
Mia was in a much smaller room than she was used to sleeping in, so the area felt cozy almost to the point of being cramped. As well, the room was very scarcely decorated. The walls were a drab white that was discolored from age and wear; obviously the room hadn't been repainted in quite some time. The floor below was of the same simple floorboard design as the bottom level, and nothing adorned it. Along the wall left and opposite of the bed was a medium sized dresser with several drawers, all appearing to be stuffed to the brim. Most of these said drawers didn't contain clothes, however. Edges of paper could be seen sticking from the cracks of the storage space, and it was obvious there were measures and notes on them. Atop the dresser was her blue casual dress and blouse, neatly folded to avoid getting too badly wrinkled. Across from where she lay was a small window that provided no real view at all, save for the side of another building and a little bit of the darkened sky above. Beside that window was another door, which was probably a small closet where the real owner of the room kept all of their actual clothes.
The bed Mia had slept in was a small twin sized bed, but if it was any indication how small the room really was, the bed took up a great deal of space. Also, it wasn't particularly the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in. The legs needed a little bit of tightening, and the springs that were within the mattress were old and creaked whenever she moved more than slightly. However, the pillow she slept on was well fluffed and was remarkably comfortable. The sheets covering the mattress were plain white and were thin from years of use. The next blanket on the bed was made of a soft blue material that kept the bed surprisingly warm. The comforter on top was a simple deep crimson quilt that pressed down on her frame when she reclined, but caused no interference with her movement as she sat upright.
As the cool morning air wafted into the room, she gave a slight shiver as it brushed by her skin and she quickly slid back beneath the covers. While her head rest in the soft pillow, she began to reflect on the night before.
After Isaac had returned from retrieving his music, he sat down and played one of the most glorious songs she had ever heard. Menardi was correct when she said the song itself was a good thirty minutes in length; in fact, it was closer to an hour. When the pianist finally concluded his serenade, the group of listeners he had soundly applauded him. He had taken their applause with a simple nod of his head, and the slightest of glints in his soulful eyes. However, the motions he made with his hands afterward indicated that they had grown weary. Obvious to the fact that he wouldn't play the instrument any further that night, Jenna sat everyone down for more small talk over tea.
During this time, Mia learned much about the friends she had made. Saturos and Menardi turned out to be some of the finest individuals she had ever met. Both of the Proxians were kind and compassionate, even to a total stranger like her. It was a small wonder why Jenna's brother was such close friends with them. Despite all outward appearance; Saturos' in particular, they were calm and very friendly. Saturos' blood red eyes, piercing and very frightening at first glance, were in truth very deep and extremely passive. Menardi's lighter eyes were much the same.
With a quiet sigh, she rolled on to her side and faced the wall. During the small talk, she did her best to avoid saying too much about herself. These friends, the dear people that were both kind and caring, she was worried she would lose them if they found out who she was. She was of the higher class, easy off, with lots of money. They were of a lower class, fighting to make ends meet. Unlike a lot of people in her financial class, she was actually afraid of what they'd think of her. She was terrified that if they found out she was president of one of Tolbi's biggest companies they would turn their backs on her or grow resentful. As it stood now, Mia had no other friends at all. The thought of being alone again sent a shiver through her spine.
They'd shown her so much kindness already, Jenna, Felix, Garet, and even the pianist, Isaac. As strange as it sounded, all Mia wanted to do was to return the same to them. She never had this sort of feeling before. Though it was new, she couldn't help but to love it right away. She loved it, and could never release it.
Now fully awake, she rose back to her sitting position, and slowly swung her legs to the open side of the bed. After she pushed herself out of the bed, she quickly dressed and prepared to make her appearance down below. Though she doubted anyone was concerned about her appearance, she made sure that her dress was straightened and ran her fingers through her hair to give it order. When she was satisfied, she gave a quick nod to herself, and reached for the doorknob.
The old and slightly rusted knob made a squeak as she gently turned it, releasing the door from its closed position. She took a deliberate pace to her walk, both through the hallway, then down the stairs.
"Morning, Mia!" Jenna's voice sounded from below, when she was about halfway down.
"Good morning, Jenna." She said, looking at her friend as she descended the final steps. She was standing behind the counter wiping clean a mug with a rag. The only other in the room was Isaac, who sat in his usual spot, with his usual face and usual pen. He was obviously focused on working on his music, his eyes darting from measure to measure. "Good morning, Isaac."
"Good morning." He replied without turning his attention away. His tone was neither warm or cold, and not even Jenna could discern whether he meant it or if he was simply dismissing their guest.
"How did you sleep, Jenna?"
"Myself and Garet slept very well." She smiled. "Though I am a tad stiff from sleeping on the floor."
"And you, Isaac?"
"I slept fine."
"How'd you sleep in Isaac's room, Mia?" Jenna asked. Isaac's left eye twitched ever so slightly at Jenna's seemingly innocent query. Isaac knew she was prying for something to hang over his head. His mind ran several different curses silently. Isaac had no regrets about lending his room out to Mia at the moment, but he had a nasty feeling that Jenna was going to make him find a few.
"Soundly, Jenna." She replied. "Thank you for letting me sleep in your room, Isaac."
Isaac's head turned slightly. Mia's eyes were on him, and she wore a slight smile on her continence. Though he would normally give a nod in recognition, he felt the need to actually speak. "You're welcome." Isaac's keen sapphire eyes caught an obvious glint in Jenna's.
"Hey, where are Saturos and Menardi?" Mia asked.
"They went out with Felix for awhile. What they're doing, I've no idea."
"And Garet?"
"Job-hunting." She returned.
Isaac flinched at this, unbeknownst to the females in the room. He had decided to take the day off from job hunting; truth be told, he hadn't slept well at all the previous night. Garet's loud snoring on the floor nearby prevented him from getting any real rest. Also the truth was he hadn't wanted to take the day off; Jenna had essentially forced him to stay in. She was like an overbearing big sister sometimes.
"Mia, would you like to join us for dinner tonight?"
"No, I've some things I need to take care of. Thank you for the generous offer though."
"I see." Jenna replied, a bit disappointed.
"Perhaps another time?"
"Of course. It'd be nice to have you over again."
"Thank you." The cerulean haired woman replied, visibly embarrassed. "I'm glad I'm not... a burden, or anything. If you ever want me gone for one reason or another. . ."
"Don't you worry yourself about that." Jenna replied. "You could never be a burden, right Isaac?"
Another calculated strike by his friend. She was sure persistent; it was a wonder Mia hadn't caught on to all of this yet. "No, she's. . . no trouble at all." He said, pretending to only pay half attention to them. What else could he say? He was backed into a corner.
"I'm glad." Mia replied, still outwardly embarrassed. "Still, I really hate to leave. . . but I must get going." Mia and Jenna quickly exchanged farewells, and she soon departed. Shortly after she knew Mia was out of earshot, Jenna turned to Isaac; though before she could begin he turned and cut her off.
"If you're going to start in on me, I'll have no part of it."
"Why, Isaac. . . I can't believe you would think I'd do something like that." She laughed, eyes glinting with amusement. Isaac couldn't tell for himself if the laughter he heard was a pleasant sound or a demonic one. "Though. . . it was very unexpected of you to put your room up for her like that."
"I just felt as though Felix shouldn't have to give up his room whenever we have an odd numbered guest. You know very well Felix would've given up his room if I hadn't said otherwise."
"Even then he put up quite the fight, didn't he?" Jenna sighed. "Still though. . . she's your type, Isaac."
"Too flighty for my tastes."
"You don't know her as well as you think."
Isaac snorted. "And why are you trying to push Mia on me? Did she ask you to do it or something?"
"Not at all." Jenna said, giving her patented sly look. "I'm just doing this because I think it'd be good for you."
"What would? Love?" Isaac asked, almost indignantly. "We've been over this, Jenna. I'm not interested. It's a silly child's game and I don't wish to play it."
"You know what they say, Isaac... those who are the most cynical about love are the ones who yearn for it the most."
"I'm not yearning for anything except a steady paycheck to help keep this bar alive as long as I can."
"Keep telling yourself that, Isaac. It won't change anything."
"Jenna, why are you so held up on this, anyway?" Isaac sighed, locking a fierce eye contact with his friend.
"Just because... a woman like that doesn't come along every day, Isaac. There's something special about her, you know. It's just a feeling I get about some people. I definitely think she's for you, my dear friend." She said, the utmost earnest in her voice and the deepest truth in her eyes. Isaac, catching this, shrugged in response.
"If that's what you believe... then by all means, believe it. However, like any belief. . . it isn't necessarily true." Isaac retorted, rising from his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to catch up on some of my rest. I don't know how you sleep in the same room with Garet... he's the human saw mill if there ever was one. I'll be down later." The piano man quickly made his way upstairs before Jenna could press the argument once more.
He quickly retreated into his tiny room and bolted the door. With a sigh, he pressed his back against the doorway. He didn't know what was going on. A few weeks ago if Jenna had tried anything like this he would've been close to irate. Though he snapped at her like he did, he wasn't as mad as he would've been. Removing his vest and shirt, he threw them with disregard onto his dresser. He threw himself onto his bed and gave off a more exasperated sigh than before. He figured his sudden internal patience with Jenna stemmed from knowing her so long. He knew it was typical for her to do this kind of thing. After all, she teased Garet incessantly when she had a crush on him. While it was obvious she didn't have a crush on him, he was pretty sure playing matchmaker was how she got her kicks now. He rolled onto his side and let his eyes slide closed. He began drifting off to sleep as he felt a tickle on his nose. He shot forward with a violent sneeze. Grumbling to himself, he looked down at and then picked up his irritant. It was a thin strand of cerulean blue hair left by Mia from the previous night. With a silent curse, he lay back down and drifted to sleep.
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Though it was only early afternoon, the sky above was foreboding and dark. The sun usually shone an ironic light over the somber city; though today, the heavens embodied the very feel of Tolbi. The ominous black clouds curled amongst one another, like many vipers in a cramped snake pit. These serpents of the sky were desperately trying to wring tears from one another, to bring water down on the city below. The rain that was threatening wouldn't be out of character for the mood of th town, but it would be unwanted. Though the skies reflected how much of the city felt, the shedding of tears was always considered a sign of weakness. However, the heavens were free to cry as they willed without fear of being chastised. Perhaps this was a lesson to the people about emotion, though it was doubtful any would take heed of it.
Down below, in the humid and hot streets of the city, there were the very people the heavens sought to educate. Every one of them walked down the roads, both the driven and the aimless. The men, the women, the young, the elderly; all of them moving, unaware, uncaring, of the sky's silent teachings. One of these people was a man. This man, like most of these others alongside him, was lost. No, he knew where he was, and where he was going. He knew where the store was, and what the fastest route was to it. He even knew where the cobbler ran his moonlighting operation. What he was lost from was whatever path he wanted to take in life years ago.
The path this man had always desired was a simple one. In his life, he wanted nothing more than to live peacefully. He wanted nothing more than a roof and food. He wanted nothing more than to be able to smile. Alas, while he did have the roof and the food, he lacked the other two. What pained him the most was the loss of his smile. Never since that day had one even tugged at his cheeks; his face had since become a cold stone, like a statue in a museum. His manner was so frozen in steel, he was a suit of armor like the knights of old once wore.
Though his continence remained even and constant, deep within, turmoil beyond belief raged. Storms and tempests plagued him every waking hour of every day. The maelstroms that blew through his mind ripped and thrashed at his sanity; some days he teetered dangerously close to madness. Other days he was closer to despair and depression. Never once in many years had he felt joy. Yet, through all of this chaos, all of this discourse, his face remained completely unchanged.
No one turned an eye to his seemingly stoic face. Everyone everywhere had seen it thousands of times over. This man was merely average in a wave of endless. He didn't care though. He didn't want sympathy, nor did he want pity. This was his problem, and he intended to deal with it himself. However, he had been trying to deal with it himself for many years now, and he had gotten no better than when he started.
He then looked up to the overcast sky when he reached his destination. Protruding in his vision was a rather plain steeple, with a worn and tattered metal sun upon its top. Attached to it was a worn down old stone church with simple stained glass windows, and sturdy strong oak doors. The stone lining the outside of the church was covered in mold and moss; age was clearly getting the best of this place. Upon the grounds was a small and decrepit cemetery, and this is where the wanderer walked to. Strolling between the graves deliberately, he stopped when he reached a certain small headstone. The traveler bent down and brushed some moss out of the fading lettering on the epitaph.
A light drizzle began to fall as he laid a small bouquet of flowers upon the earth in front of him. He quietly murmured the name on the gravestone over and over, his voice no louder than the impact of the light rain on the ground about him.
"I'm sorry, sister." Alex said, looking at the flowers he just laid down. His eyes slowly began to water. "I wasn't there for you when you needed me." The officer's once stoic face began to melt into obvious depression. "Some brother I am, huh? I storm out of the house because of some stupid fight with father. . . and when I return. . ." Alex's voice was quickly breaking, and tears began to mix with the soft rain hitting his face. "I'm sorry." He cried. Alex had been sitting on his legs, but as he broke down he leaned against the headstone for support. As he rested upon the stone, he allowed his right cheek to brush the front of it.
"The day I lost you, Ambi. . . I didn't think I could go on. You were the one thing that kept me going through everything father did. You were there, inspiring me, keeping me happy, even if you had no reason to smile yourself." Alex pushed himself from the grave and sat back on his legs. The rain began to fall harder all around him and he allowed his mind to wander back to the days when his sister remained on the mortal coil.
His parents were far from perfect, let alone good. Alex's mother hardly said a word to either of them, and when she did, it was usually to scold them for something their father did. She was scarcely loving; her common demeanor was apathy. Despite how cold his mother was, his father was even worse. His father was a foul-mouthed, abusive, and was more often than not unemployed. He treated both Ambi and Alex as lesser life forms, giving them second-rate treatment in everything he possibly could. Even when Alex was injured from cutting himself on broken glass, his father refused to do anything about it. During that time, it was Ambi who came to his rescue. His sister made sure he got proper treatment and she had even patched up his cuts herself. This moment in particular froze itself in his normally cold and calm mind. His own parents failed to come to his aid when he needed them. Yet, his sister was there.
"I shouldn't have left you there alone, Ambi." He stated. "I should've known that father had gotten into a fight with someone at the bar; he was bruised and his knuckles were tattered. I should've known he would've picked a fight with someone who would come back to get him." Of course, Alex truly had no way of knowing that, let alone the fact the man his father fought with had mob connections. "I should've taken you with me. Then it would not have mattered that they were killed." Alex paused for a moment. "No, that's not true. It would've mattered. . . to you at least. Even though you didn't particularly like mom and dad, you still loved them. I don't think I'll ever understand why or how though. . ." He trailed off, his eyes now flowing completely with tears. The man diverted his gaze from the tombstone to the ground next to him. That was the thing he admired his sister most for; she possessed a forgiving nature that was all but lost in the times. She was willing to help anyone who needed it and cared for people that most would not. She was good natured, fair, and kind. Of course it had to be her that died. They said that only the good die young, and to Alex, that was proven.
Right now, Alex was highly emotional and very deep in thought. If a man were to approach him now, he would have the most complete respect for them if they were half-way decent to him and the most dangerous venom if they were not. The Mercury Adept was certainly far from his normally seen self. However, no one, not even Alex himself knew what he was truly like. He always came off as a cold hearted, silent, workaholic. The only person was not repelled by his sheer attitude was Picard, and Alex still couldn't understand why his fellow officer stayed around him. Most of the time he didn't care, but it was times like these he called such things into question.
Alex didn't want to be close to anyone anymore. Friends, family, loved ones; all of them were liabilities these days. He had cared and loved someone once, and now she lay in eternal sleep beneath the earth below. Yet, part of him couldn't escape it. Despite how frequently he felt about people, he desired to care. The thing was, he never could bring himself to do so. During his more restless nights, his mind fought subconscious battle on this topic; far more violent and erratic than what he wrestled with during the day. However, whenever he paid a visit to his sister, he fought a more obvious fight than in his sleep; whether it was to try to impress his sister or reassure himself, he still could not be certain.
"Ambi, I still remember what I promised you when you were laid to rest here." He sighed. "I promised I'd get revenge on the people who did this to you. I promised I'd bring them to justice." He slowly rose. "I haven't forgotten. I will never forget. That's why I joined the force; to see that they get what they deserve." The tears that were once flowing freely had stopped and were washed into the earth below. "I never understood why we had to live a lives like so many storybook characters; so many tortured souls. All of them were innocent people, yet they met with the worst of fates. Why was I chosen to lead a life that so many false figures could escape from, whereas I have no hope of it myself? Why were you the unfortunate one who left this world instead of me? You would've done so much more with your life." He paused for several moments, then gave one final look at the stone before he spoke again.
"Good bye for now, my sister. Continue to rest. . . because I will not until I've fulfilled my oath to you." Alex slowly walked away, his face again a glacier, a stone, a statue.
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Throughout history people have killed one another in dozens of stupid and pointless conflicts that could have been avoided. However, these conflicts were never avoided unless the treasury of one of the nations was near empty. More often than not, these conflicts sought to fill these coffers to the brim so that the nobility could live hedonistically while the hard working peoples in the fields continued to struggle just to live. Worse yet, these people were taxed immeasurably while the rich bathed in their gems and coins every dawn and dusk. The poor were subject to every whim and turn of the nobility and served as puppets for them.
It is now hundreds of years later and serfdom has supposedly been banned. However, nothing at all has changed. It is still the same: the rich dominate the poor mercilessly and are subject to their every impulse. The only difference now is that there is unemployment and we live in a city rather than in the countryside. The commoners still struggle for food and shelter, and even more for money. However, now we are no longer struggling in an everlasting competition, but rather fighting in it. People want nothing more than to come out ahead of one another in a society such as today's. This explains why we rob and cheat and murder each other to try to better ourselves. It explains organized crime and corruption. Everyone just wants money and nothing else. People are willing to discard their compassion, humility, dignity, and humanity for a few worthless slips of green paper and a few gold slugs. This truly is the worst point of human history to date. We were more in tune with one another back when we sat in caves hitting each other over the head with clubs.
The working class has suffered enough under the lead heel of the bourgeoisie. Change is inevitable, and its time is now. It is time that the average factory worker and the simple housewife take up arms against such an ungodly system. It is time that the bourgeoisie pays for their sins with blood and tears. It is time to show them that the commoners are their equals and if not their betters. This uproar against the rich should be remembered as the purging of the oil from the waters of humankind.
Once the rich have been shown their proper place at the feet of the hard working and honest people that are the proletariat, a new government should be set upon the ruins of the previous. This government should be fair to all the peoples of the planet, unlike that pitiful excuse of a system known all too well as capitalism. The new order would be completely incorruptible and would treat all as equals in every possible respect. Men, women, Angaran, Proxian, Gondowondian, it doesn't matter. All people will share the wealth and share the same status. Because of this, strife and hatred from have and have-nots would cease to exist. There would be no more fighting over property and no more arguing over wages. Eventually when people attain full acceptance for this government, there will be no need for it further. Once people understand completely the good of this system, the human race will no longer have a need for government.
Professor Kraden raised an eyebrow after reading this passage. "Sarten, do you honestly believe what you're writing?"
"Of course I do. All of today's problems are because of the rich. They throw their money around as though they owned the planet." Wing replied, his eyes fiery with conviction. "If we did away with the concept of wealth we would all live together in peace!"
"And how would advancement come? How would science progress if there is no incentive?"
"How can you say that it wouldn't? The people who love what they do as scientists will continue to make new discoveries because they love to do so."
"And where would their funds come from if the distribution of wealth was equal?"
"Donations from the general public."
"Sounds like taxes, which you are so rabidly against."
"The donations would be purely optional."
"Then what promise do you have that the scientists would get the funds they would need?"
"Because people always want better conditions. Better medicine and health care would be something people would be willing to donate for."
"But the people who need it most are already spending their money on treatment and not on research. Can you really count on the people with no problems to help those who have them?"
"Of course I can. Once people understand that everyone is an equal, they wouldn't hesitate to help others."
Kraden sighed. He himself was a very liberal man, but his protégé was beyond just liberal. His student was among the most radical of the radical. His ideas were not only foolish, but he was blinded by his own enthusiasm. His own idealism drove him to what Kraden considered intellectual madness; if Sarten was a scientist, he'd probably be creating a monster out of corpses at this moment. Though Wing himself was harmless enough, Kraden was sure his ideas were no short of perilous. This boy's ideals could ignite entire revolutions and spill blood anywhere in the world. As much as the professor admired his student for being proud of his beliefs, he couldn't condone that they ever met with the public eye.
"Sir, if I may, it seems you aren't at all pleased with me." Wing said.
"I'm not pleased with your visions of humanity, I can tell you that." Kraden said. "I'm glad you paid such close attention to my history lessons, Wing, but I believe your ideas are poorly put together. All of the wars and conflicts I've taught you about have had some significance for one reason or another."
"But they all involved needless bloodshed by leaders who couldn't negotiate because they were too proud to do so."
"And how would your revolution be different than the wars of the past? If you cannot answer that than your ideals are nothing but hypocritical." Kraden said, waving his finger.
"The revolution would be different because that would be the last blood to be shed. It would bring freedom to all and make the world a better place! After the world came to see what the true meaning of freedom is they would never wish to fight once more!"
"And what makes you think this war is just? Many of the rich may be cruel or unfair, but you cannot forget that throughout history there have been many noblemen and women who have made a difference by being kind and giving with their fortunes. Not all the rich are scum, Wing. I personally know two people who aren't, though one of them is dead now."
"Aside from Mr. Calvin and his daughter, how do we know that they weren't putting us down so we wouldn't revolt sooner? How do we know that every last one of those gifts didn't have an ulterior motive? How do we even know that they have a soul? An excess or a desire for wealth are the roots of all evil in humanity and I wish to pluck them from our species like weeds from a garden."
"You speak as though you are above temptation yourself. Would you feel the same way if you were to come into a sudden windfall?"
Sarten paused for a moment. "Yes, I would. Unlike the fools who possess money now I am capable of seeing the plight of the unfortunate."
"Suppose you were born and raised in a rich household. Would you feel the same?"
"Professor, you know as well as I do that there is no way to answer that question."
"That isn't true. It is a good bet if you were raised in a well-off family you would support capitalism. You would be no better than the very people you are persecuting in your writings and speech."
"Though just because they are raised in money doesn't mean they shouldn't know what right and wrong are! They should know better than anyone considering they more often than not get higher education!"
Kraden gave off an exasperated sigh, then looked at the grandfather clock in the university library. The hands read the time to be quarter after seven, and it was about time for the library to close. "As fascinating as this topic is to argue, it is time for us to leave. We don't want the librarians yelling at us again. You go ahead and go. There's a couple of books I want to check out before I leave."
"Understood, sir. I will see you in class tomorrow." Wing quickly gathered his papers and put them into his plain brown briefcase and quickly departed. After his student had left the library, the older gentleman rested his head on the table he was working on. Frustration raced through his mind and boiled through his blood. Why did one so brilliant have to be so stupid as well? He had thought through all of his teachings that democracy was the best government humanity could have, not some completely socialized mishmash that Sarten had spoke of. He couldn't believe his best student would go so far against his teachings. He supposed that it was an inevitable that the new generation would be completely revolutionary. Even so, all of his preaching and instruction about human nature had gone completely in vain. Kraden, though a very calm and rational individual most of the time, wanted nothing more than to jump on the table and start swearing violently to relieve his tensions.
Knowing that wouldn't be the scholarly thing to do by any means, Kraden simply gathered his things and left the library for his home. It was going to be a long walk, but the exercise might do him some good and make him feel better. He paced down the dimly lit streets and brushed past several people; both parties ignored the interaction. As he passed down one of the last avenues before his home, he heard a familiar sound. The tune of the ivory keys was unmistakable. He looked to his right and saw his favorite bar well lit and decently crowded. He could see through one of the front windows Isaac sitting at his piano, eyes closed and fingers ghosting over the keys. The music that came from within were like a siren's call to the old scholar, one he found impossible to resist.
He entered the bar unnoticed by most of the patrons, although Felix was quick to exchange a greeting, and Garet was soon to follow. Only a moment after that Jenna gave him his favorite gin and had set up a chair next to Isaac's piano. Kraden smiled deeply as he took his seat, and thanked his hosts sincerely.
Once Isaac had finished his previous song, he looked directly at the scholar. "The usual, professor?" He asked, voice quiet but solid.
"Yes," he replied, "yes, that would be nice."
