Enmity of Atlas

“Evening sirs,” he turned to Staria, “madame. Mind if I sit with you for a moment? I figure you’re likely to leave, so I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Uh…sure,” Trenton responded, warily eyeing the suspicious newcomer while pulling out a chair next to him for the man to sit in. The odd man did so, thanking Trenton graciously. He looked off placidly into the distance, rather gazing at the heavens, than make eye contact with the peoples of his interest.

“Life really has a way of passing you by, doesn’t it? Everyday of our lives, we toil for the sake of betterment, yet it all seems so shallow at a moment's glance, so monotonous. I’d even think it pointless if I didn’t know any better. Because, once brought into overview, the broader picture appears, and suddenly, the day's struggles have been given permanece, or rather–meaning,” he paused for a moment, still gazing at the sky. Suddenly, he focused, locking eyes with Trenton. “So, tell me. Why is it that you won’t do this?”

His now pensive gaze unnerved Trenton, who looked away for a moment, trying to avoid eye contact. “What exactly were you getting at? Is there something you know that I don’t?” Trenton said hastily, trying to skirt around the odd feeling of truth in the odd man's words.

“I know you were Trenton Boulreguard, a noble who trains with a warrior known as Walibeld every day. Despite this, you’ve never actually made any progress towards that odd presence you bear, have you? You’ve struggled every day of your life, all the while being told how special you are, and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Why is that? Ask yourself, truly, why is that?”

Anger, first and foremost, was the emotion Trenton felt. The man's tone felt not only accusatory, but prying as well. So, it was only natural Trenton’s defense would be to try and wall him out. But, Trenon knew better. The man’s words were not dissimilar to thoughts Trenton had lugged around with him for the last decade. Why hasn’t it worked? Why does Walibeld keep leading him on? What was he meant to do?

“I don’t know. I don’t know why…do you?” Trenton asked meekly, embracing the new world he had been pulled into consisting entirely of him and this odd man.

“No. I know only that I know nothing. So, I do not have knowings to give you. Instead, I have advice–speculation. It was you who must take the next step forward, and if my words were the lanterns at the start of that path, then I will consider my job here complete,” he leaned forward close to Trenton's face, “Every day you wake up and do the same thing. Every single day. But it’s not working. Why is that? There's an old wisdom about this often quoted, but misremembered. ‘It is the insane man he who wakes up thinking yesterday's actions bear today's fruit,’ but that’s only the first half of the saying, ‘Only after 4 thousand yesterdays does the insane man realize himself a fool, when he gazes across his barren field, devoid of fruits to eat,’ put simply, you need change. You must let go of what you know, and search for what you don’t. That is the only path forward,” the man leaned away from Trenton, gauging the look in his eye–his words hanging heavy in the air. “Take some time to think about it, just not too long.”

The man stood up, and without another word, left. For a moment, Trenton sat there, silently trying to take in the words spoken to him, but no matter how hard he tried, it didn't quite sink in. The general message was simple enough, but there was more to it, wasn’t there–something carefully veiled beneath the veneer of the actual words he spoke. But no matter what angle he looked at it from, Trenton couldn’t seem to figure out what it could be. Maybe a nights good rest would help clear his mind. He would think about this tomorrow.

“What the hell just happened?” Staria said wide eyed. “What the hell was that? Who the hell was that?” She looked over at Trenton, “and, were you alright? It almost sounded like he was insulting you.”

“Fine, yeah,” Trenton responded dismissively, a far away look in his eyes.

“Did you catch any of what he was saying?” Leo said, similarly taken aback, looking at Staria, “Did you?” he whipped his head around to look at Trenton, who was now gazing pensively down into his lap.

“I don’t think agonizing over it is going to help. C’mon, we’ve already paid our tab, let’s go,” Trenton said, but his voice was no longer in it. The man's words to Trenton had left indents clearly visible across his sclera, should anyone have cared to look.

Now with the mood thoroughly disturbed, the three headed back to the carriage. But just as they started moving, a beautiful melody began. Quiet at first, then building to a glorious forte, before softening once again, was an unseen woman's elegant singing voice–washing gently over the town–entrancing the denizens with its dulcet tones. Now, with complete disregard to the conversation moments prior, Trenton swayed with the enthralling hum of the music as the carriage rolled slowly along, forgetting all that ailed him in this moment of pure bliss.

The townspeople had long known about, and even revered, this strange phenomenon. Every Friday, at exactly 4:30 PM, for exactly 5 minutes, a woman's voice could be heard singing a new song anywhere within the city. There were never words, nor any instruments besides the one womens voice, but despite this, it was often described by those who’d heard it as the most beautiful sound in the world–like a chorus of angels taken manifest in the voice of one woman. Trenton would have you believe that the music resonated with him more than anyone else–that he alone could behold its true beauty–but such a thing was impossible to verify, just gut feelings and inclinations.

It was unknown why this phenomenon happens, but it was known that if you step outside of the city, even just an inch, the melody would cease entirely, and that person could no longer hear the melody that day. But, no one dared risk not being able to hear this week's song, so even the gate guards backed away from the city's borders for the short time of the woman's lullaby. Were it the same song, or even similar songs, week to week, it was possible people would still be just as enthralled, like the voice alone was some enchantress spreading her weave, but this wasn’t the case

Each week there was a brand new song, distinct from the previous, but also connected in an odd way–like a melody that stretched on forever. This was how Aria got its name–Aria–the city of everlasting music. The ghostly woman even shared the name–being dubbed the spirit of the city.

This phenomenon inspired other artists to try their own hand at music, making Aria the music capital of the world. it was kind of like one of the world's natural wonders, except for your ears instead of your eyes. Hell, there was a whole stadium on the westside with shows playing daily–very expensive shows–mind you. Trenton would visit, but living on the east side, it was difficult to make such a long trip in one day. So, it was an event saved for special occasions.

Finally, after what felt like eons, the aria ended, and Trenton leaned back in his chair. “You know what? Today is still a lovely day. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had so much free time,” a big smile returned to his face. Despite the odd events of the day, Trenton's mood remained untampered, or rather–rebuilt.

The cart stopped suddenly to let Staria out at Collies where her own carriage still sat waiting. “Good! Can’t have you tapping out on us before the big night. We haven't even gotten started yet. I’ll see you in a couple hours!” Staria said over her shoulder, waving goodbye as she headed down the street to her carriage.

With another sudden lurch, the carriage quickly picked up again, hastily making its way back to the Boulreguard manor. And once again, now stilled by the calming sounds of the serene music, the two boys fell back into a comfortable silence, the both of them lost in fanciful daydreams far outside the bounds of reality.

When they arrived back home, Trenton and Leo departed from the carriage, leaving Zsolt to put the horses back in their stables, assuming the day's travel was over. Now, with an hour remaining before Trenton was called for the ball, he decided to head up to his room to relax. Maybe he could read a book or something while he waited, and Leo could find something else around the house to entertain himself with. Technically it was Trenton’s job to entertain guests as a host, but Leo was practically a member of the family. Having him around was as normal as Trenton or Lilly's presence in the manor, so he could find something to do in the meantime.

With the hour of leisure at his fingertips, Trenton decided the earlier idea to read a book sounded perfect. In fact, he’d just picked up this new one about the great hero Gasal and his rise and fall against the great tyrant kings of the era of Conquest. it was not an autobiography, of course–Gasal died a gruesome warrior's death–but rather a memoir about all that lead up to his death, and how he managed to single handedly overcome the great tyrants despite the odds. Just like other stories of heroism, it was enough to get a young boy's mind turning, but this one was especially enthralling. Something about the truth behind the events, and the great courage displayed, instilled Trenton with a longing he never knew he had–a desire to be a hero–just like Leo. Because of that, it was a tale Trenton just couldn’t quite put down. Well, until Mave walked into the room with 2 other servants to help Trenton get changed for the night, of course.

Formal balls required pristine etiquette and perfect clothing, two things Trenton had in spades. But even more so, a masquerade ball, which this happened to be, additionally required a beautiful mask, one which would awe and astound every other guest present. It was like a peacocks show, a time to, formally, show off in front of everyone else.

Slowly, the servants helped Trenton assemble the outfit for tonight. Trenton requested a velvet suit with black highlights and a matching mask, and oh boy, did Mave deliver. The suit they got him was hand woven from the finest Juvian silks in the land. His mask, gold and silver coverings over the right half of his face and his brow, was forged by a master craftsman in Dasellium and shipped into the city specifically for Trenton to wear. Individually, the pieces were a stunning testament to the Boulreguard’s wealth. But together, they made a bold statement that there was none more important present than Trenton himself–exactly the correct vibe for a formal event.

As Trenton was leaving his room, he noticed that his window was still left open from this morning. Trenton quickly strutted over to shut the window and draw the curtains. But as he reached his hand out, the most peculiar creature landed on the window sill. Sitting there, beady eyed and head cocked, was a spectral bird with translucent and iridescent green feathers. It was small, rather the make of a Jay than a hawk, but still of a notable presence. Despite the fact that Trenton just saw it fly onto the window sill, he didn’t recall hearing it make any sound, almost as if the bird's wings were completely silent. Trenton’s thoughts were instantly cut off by two high pitched shrills emanating from the bird's very core–sounds that could only be likened to a dying man's screams. Then, without another moment wasted, the bird flew away into the dusk sky, leaving Trenton horribly confused and unusually disturbed.

Trenton headed down to the reception hall where dozens of servants waited holding trays filled with the lands finest champagnes and wines for the guests. Against the walls were several tables holding more prepared drinks should the servers run out of supplies and need to restock. Trenton took a spot near a pillar, adjacent to the entryway and the rest of his family, where he waited for the guests to arrive, calmly keeping track of the time by gauging the long shadows on the floor of the hall. For a moment, he considered mentioning the bird, but thought better of it, deciding instead to mention it tomorrow morning, when there's less going on.

Looking around, Trenton saw a couple of the available servants on hand, taking note of who was currently stationed where out of pure curiosity. Most of the servants were elsewhere in the building, preparing meals, tables, cleaning, or whatever else they had been asked to do, so it was not unusual that so few were waiting to serve guests. But what was odd, was Jade, who Trenton doesn’t see among the current staff. It was possible she was staffed last minute elsewhere, but Trenton recalled overhearing his father telling her that she should be present to greet the guests. It wasn’t like her to disobey direct orders. What could she even be doing at a time like this? Just as Trenton moved to ask Mave, who was standing nearby, a rap was heard on the door. It was now officially 6:30 PM. Time had run out. The celebrations were to begin immediately.