The song had no words. Much in the way Nero’s last case left him with no words. Both the song and the case resonated with him on a deeper level. Opening his eyes, he counted the empty glasses on the table before him, making the wise decision to not order another.
Instead he rested his head against the wall beside him, sinking further into the booth, and keying into the song playing in the tavern. The music was thriving, light, and fleeting– beyond that Nero had ever heard played at the Blind Bull, on a Tuesday night of all nights too. The player’s strung notes cut intently through the mild chatter of the tavern regulars, the sizzling of the grill in the back and most importantly, Nero’s own thoughts.
He had lost track of the time, he realized, as the song marked the end of the player’s performance. Nero hadn’t had the eye strength to focus on anything outside his booth, but he could tell from the sliding of chairs and dimming of lights.
Yannel, the tavern owner, would soon begin to clean in a passive aggressive effort to get rid of dwindlers sooner rather than later. To make his life easier, the young finder of things stacked his glasses together, and scooted them to the end of the table.
In doing that, and with the timing, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face.
The young man from the wagon, so long ago, with the sharp eyes. By coincidence, he had been walking past the table, and looked equally surprised to see Nero.
He snapped his fingers in the air, opened and closed his mouth twice, “Erm, ah- Neo. No. Erm, Nero!”
“Yes. I’m sorry I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Azui,” his eyes darted to the glasses on the table then at Yannel, who was cleaning a table two booths over. “I’m not a believer of coincidences, mind if I join you?”
“Actually I should probably get going, Yannel is wrapping up it appears.”
“‘Zui can stay as long as he wants. He barely visits as it is,” Yannel grunted, taking the glasses from the table. “Same goes for any friend of ‘Zui’s.”
“Just one drink, I’m rather a lightweight anyways.” The glint in Zui’s eyes, his ‘only child’ demeanor, Nero knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Your usual then?” Yannel asked the youth who must not have been as youthful as Nero assumed. And when he nodded, the tavern owner looked expectantly at Nero, “What will you have?”
“I’m done drinking, I’ll take a coffee if you don’t mind.”
“Put it on my tab,” Azui slid into the booth across from him, and watching him Nero wondered if he always carried himself as if he owned the place, or if he was only acting so because he happened to be friends with the owner.
“You don’t have to-”
“Let him,” Yannel said. “Considering he won’t let me pay him for playing, at the very least I can pay him in drinks.”
“You can’t afford me Yanny,” his friend winked playfully.
When Yannel stepped away to get their orders, Nero inquired, “You were playing the mandolin?”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Very. You are very talented.”
The answer visibly pleased him, his posture was very self assured, “I’m glad. Do you enjoy this sort of music?”
Nero was fond of it, although admittedly not often exposed to such fine culture, “I don’t listen to it often enough.”
“Well if you ever wish to listen again, just give my name at the King’s Opera Hall and they’ll seat you. On any night except Mondays and Tuesdays.”
“Zui here is the youngest player in the King’s Philharmonic, since he was 12,” said Yannel, putting their respective orders in front of them.
So the young man was beyond talented, a prodigy who knew exactly how good he was. His haughty characteristics were not completely off putting, as the polite parts of his disposition were enough to balance it out. Perhaps being an only child formed the confidence he held. Alas, something, or someone, taught him empathy, given that he stopped his wagon to help Nero that day they met.
“Can I ask you something?” The boy asked in between sips of his drink, he waited for Nero’s nod to prod, “You look awful, were you beat up today as well? Do I just happen to run into you every time you lose a fight, or?”
Nero, taken aback, laughed. That might have been Azui’s goal too.
“No, I wasn’t. Although, honestly I might have preferred that. Last time, I was in trouble because I found what I was hired to find. This time, I failed to find what I was hired to find in a timely manner.”
“What do you mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Ah, when I’m hired to find a missing child, there’s a short timeframe for finding them… safe and well.”
The musician’s jaw dropped, he blinked a couple of times and frowned. “What of the Guard? No offense, that’s a lot to put on you, a finder for hire.”
Nero, who agreed wholly, shrugged, “The Guard are more inclined to help those… who are well off. More often than not, when it comes to the average person, they treat their lost children as runaways.”
“Ah, that is quite unjust, but I’m not surprised. What a kind and patient soul you must be to take on such endeavors.” He eyed Nero up and down, “I don’t imagine it pays terribly well either, if you are working for average folk. Do you have a sponsor?”
“I don’t. I tend to balance out my caseload with that in mind. I have a number of generous clients and that is enough for me.”
“Hm, how resourceful of you.” He glanced down at the contents of his drink, mulling. The gesture aged him a little, he definitely wasn’t as young as Nero believed. His features could be described as elvish, an eternal youth would be carried in his bone structure. “In all seriousness, I am sorry you weren’t able to help your client today. Tell me, would you be reluctant to take on a job if you knew beforehand that you would most certainly not find the person alive? If the person looking for them expected it to be the case, of course.”
“I have taken that sort of case in the past. It’s not necessarily that I am against taking such cases, but most of the time it’s not worth it to the client so I will try to talk them out of it,” Nero answered candidly. “There are very few reasons people look for someone who has departed. The most common one is they were buried with something of monetary value and their descendants wish to get ahold of it. This is because they believe it's what they are owed. On the opposite side of the spectrum, there are those who were buried with something of sentimental value. Their descendents wish to get ahold of such items because they believe they will get comfort from them or provide them answers. Both things do very little to help with the process of mourning, even impede it in some situations. It’s best to move on in some situations, as horrible as it sounds.”
Azui’s corner of mouth tugged into a small smile, “It doesn’t sound horrible, it’s very true. Anyway, thank you for sitting with me. My offer for the King’s Opera Hall stands, should you ever wish to enjoy something lovely.” He rose and wished Nero good night.
All and all, he was polite, but Nero could not shake the feeling that he said something wrong.
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