Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 118: Concert Preparations

Toren Daen

"Have you made sure to polish your instrument?" a harsh voice asked. "The microfiber cloths we provided should have been more than sufficient."

"Yes," I replied.

"Did you practice for twenty minutes this morning, as recommended?"

"Yes," came my bland response.

"And did you make sure to keep yourself hidden from the attending guests? We can't afford for them to see you before your initial reveal."

"Yeah, I did," I said, tired.

Unfortunately, I hadn't seen Renea since I left her to track down leads in Nirmala. The man in front of me, Denvish, was the event organizer assigned to me by Bloodstone Elixirs. His job was to make sure everything was perfect for my upcoming performance, and he was damn good at his job. Maybe a little too good. From the way he grilled his employees over the smallest details to the constant buzzing presence over my shoulder, he'd quickly become a bother.

The past couple of weeks had been a constant routine of research, violin practice, assimilation, and then more practice.

"Have you made sure to iron your clothes before wearing them today?" the middle-aged man asked once more. "We can't afford a single wrinkle on your vest."

He was fond of always claiming, "We can't afford this," as if he were somehow part of his internal equation. I'd quickly learned that even if you did everything to the letter, this irritating planner would still somehow find something to gripe about.

I wore a dark gray dress shirt tucked into matching slate-colored trousers. Instead of boots, I wore black Oxford shoes, something I was unused to. The ensemble created a look of sleek elegance; not a stitch out of place. With my hair tied back into a short tail, I looked like a proper gentleman.

But the cherry on top of my current dress was my maroon-colored vest. The custom-made waistcoat was a weave of expensive thread that stood out against the darker colors of my clothes. A stylized insignia was emblazoned in deep orange over my breast and again mirrored in greater scale on the back of the waistcoat.

The sigil of Named Blood Daen had changed. Before, it depicted a simple dagger with rivers of runes streaming from the edge. But I'd been reborn in the Relictombs. My First Sculpting marked something fundamental in my self-evolution; growing into something new. It was only right my Blood insignia shifted to match this change.

When setting out to alter my house insignia, the first thing that flashed in my mind was that strange rune that had appeared over the portal frame in the undead zone when I'd finally imbued it with lifeforce. It was a stylized depiction of a heart, though if one tilted their head, it almost looked like it was ablaze with fire. I'd known, almost instinctually, that it was a runic representation of lifeforce.

I'd taken that rune and integrated it into my new insignia. Now, a dagger thrust through that emblazoned heart. If you peered close enough, you could see a strange hexagonal symbol on the hilt of the knife. The organ leaked runes instead of blood on either side; the same glyphs that had always accompanied Named Blood Daen.

"Your Blood was forged in the Relictombs," Arlan, the aged Daen steward, had always said. "And that is why you honor it with your sigil."

How right he was, I thought absently. Not just forged, but reforged. Remade in the Relictombs, like a dagger that is continuously sharpened.

"Are you even listening to me?" a scathing voice cut across my thoughts. I went cross-eyed as Denvish thrust a hand near my nose, snapping his fingers irritatedly. "For someone who is supposed to play music, you are the worst listener I've ever met, Lord Daen."