The inn was filled with groggy and grumpy looking nobles, the coffee flowing down their gullets like water. From the grumbled conversation it seemed like most of them were more upset that they would have to stay around longer now that it was a funeral and not a wedding than the more important fact that the king was dead. Bri fluttered between tables, dark circles under her eyes made it apparent that she was fighting off a terrible hangover but was determined to ensure they made a profit now that everyone had finally showed up. I feigned being too hungover to eat anything when she made our way to our table with a large basket of various freshly baked muffins and Mable eagerly grabbed two, I wasn’t surprised that she had worked up quite an appetite. Despite how amazing they smelled, I was afraid to spend anything extra now, and it was common for the food inns to just be something baked nearby and sold to the patrons at a slightly higher price. Hopefully I could pop out later and grab something from a bakery nearby for a reasonable price and feel a bit better about it, though in the richer part of town it still was probably going to be more than I was used to spending.

“I can’t eat all this,” Mable said, making a face and holding out one of her two strawberry muffins to me.

It was an attempt to get me to eat something under the guise of her having made a simple mistake, but I was wise to what she was trying to do. I still did not like the idea of getting any charity from her, whether she had divulged that she was rich or not.

“No thank you, I am hungover, you know how it is,” I said and gently pushed her hand offering the steaming muffin away from me.

“You’re not that hungover,” she protested, pushing the muffin back towards me. “If you don’t eat it, it's just going to go to waste. I refuse to eat it.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked at her like she was being childish. Was she really going to try to draw on the idea that I had been raised a druid and therefore any food waste would drive me bonkers? Sure, it had been drilled into my head since birth that wasting food was a tragedy and a waste of nature’s gifts, but I felt certain that I had risen above that indoctrination and come to terms with the fact that societal living meant that sometimes perfectly edible things went into the rubbish pile behind the inn.

“All right, guess I’ll just drop it and let it get swept up and tossed later,” she said with a shrug.

Her fingers released the muffin over the ground and before I could think about what I was doing, I lunged out and caught the baked good before it landed.

“Fine,” I grumbled.

I took a big bite out of the muffin and avoided her gaze. I hated that some of the indoctrination was extremely hard to shake. I supposed it wasn’t a bad thing and if she had truly just not wanted the second muffin but had intended to eat it, there would have been nothing wrong with accepting it. It was the fact she knew I wouldn’t want to spend the money so she did it for me that really irritated me. I wasn’t aggravated at her, she was a sweet and kind person for being willing to foot the bill for me, I was aggravated at myself for not being prepared to take care of my own needs just yet. At some point I was determined to ensure that I never needed someone’s charity again.

“Good thing coffee is free,” Mable said loudly, kicking my foot underneath the table when Cam came by with the giant carafe.

He stopped and smiled, asking if we would each like a cup to go with our muffins. We accepted and our mugs were filled with the dark liquid, steam rising at an alarming rate that said I would need to let it cool before I even attempted to sip. Mable did not listen to her senses and let out a small cry, sticking her tongue out while she sucked in cool air over her tongue.

“Damn it,” she slurred, breathing heavily to try to cool off her scorched tongue. “I can’t play if my tongue is blistered!”

“Good thing we probably have nothing to play at then,” I said grimly.

Suddenly the sweet, fruity muffin felt dry and tasteless in my mouth, like all the joy of the experience had been sucked out.

“I might have an idea about that,” she said once she had finally cooled off her tongue enough to retract it into her mouth.

She looked around briefly, supposedly to look for other musicians and seeing none nearby, nodded and turned back to me.

“There is going to be a funeral procession, there must be. That means music and then at the actual burial there is usually a musical piece played as well. I’m not sure how many others have thought about this, but if we still turn up at the castle and offer our services, I’m sure they might still have use of us.”

“Do you think it would pay as well?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up just yet.

“Maybe not since it wouldn’t be several days like the wedding, but even a day of pay is better than no pay.”

“That’s true,” I admitted.

“We should go out once we’ve gotten breakfast down, get our instrument repairs, and head straight to the castle to ask. I’m sure others are going to eventually think about it, but a lot of people are going to just give up and leave as soon as they can to cut their losses. If we get there soon enough we should get a spot no problem.”

“I’m glad I met you, I probably would have been amongst those who left as soon as they could this morning. I fear what staying here is going to cost as it is. Maybe we should find a different place to stay tonight… or maybe only I should, I don’t want to force you to stay at a lesser place, especially since your new plaything is here at this inn.”

Her lips curled up into a dreamy smirk and she shook her head slightly. “I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re thinking per night, I’ll go over and ask so they don’t think you’re trying to see if you can afford it or not and maybe take pity. I know you’d be out of her in a second if you thought they might start undercharging you out of a sense of charity.”

I internally recoiled at the thought and she giggled at the expression on my face.

“That’s what I thought,” she said and stood from the table. “Be right back.”

A few men, though bleary-eyed and exhausted, looked up with needy gazes as she sauntered past their tables. Bleu, now much less disheveled looking and carrying extra napkins and utensils around to tables, caught sight of her heading towards the bar and tripped over his own feet to make sure he made a beeline for the same location to be able to talk to her once she got there. His eyes looked sunken and he was obviously struggling to make it through breakfast, but his face was alight with adoration. The boy had it bad and I felt bad about how ruthlessly Mable was going to break his heart. I didn’t think she’d be cruel about it, but there was no way she was going to stick around for him, no matter how much he would beg. She wasn’t the kind of girl who would let herself be tied down, if only the same men with bright prospects would turn their eyes my direction sometimes. A man like Bleu who would obviously inherit a well trafficked inn some day? That life would be wonderful for me, I could even still play at night for the customers. I let out a half-frustrated, half-wistful sigh, it was not likely to happen any time soon.

I wouldn’t call myself ugly, but I also wouldn’t put myself in the upper twenty five percent of good looking women, maybe somewhere squarely average. The problem was that I looked too much like every peasant girl ever, like I was just some lucky potato farmer’s daughter who managed to sneak her way into the city with everyone else. It made sense, I knew the commune had started out as a bunch of peasants who got fed up with trying to bow to a lord and turned to learning the druidic ways to make it on their own without lords or masters. There wasn’t much genetic diversity in the pool and I was just a product from a long line of commoners popping out more commoner babies. Dashingly beautiful druids just weren’t really a thing, at least not any I had ever met. I looked like my mediocre parents, dull brown hair that refused to hold a curl, yet paradoxically wouldn’t be straight enough to look like I tried to keep it tidy, a yellow undertone to my slightly tanned skin, and a smattering of dark freckles that really gave away the fact that I was in direct sunlight for most of my childhood. Now, I wasn’t so shallow to think that all girls with freckles looked ugly or any stupid idea like that, just that some people can carry them off as cute and quirky and I wasn’t one of those people. Every time I saw my reflection in the mirror I couldn’t help but think it looked like something had tripped in front of me while carrying an open vial of ink and splattered it all over my pudgy nose and chubby cheeks. I had vivid memories of looking into the pond behind the tree house and bawling as a little girl while I tried to scrub them away until my face was raw and nearly bleeding. My mother had taken pity on me and despite her insistence that nature made no mistakes, she tried to come up with various herbal concoctions to apply to my skin to try to lighten the dark marks. Nothing ever worked and nothing probably ever would, which sucked because it was definitely the thing about me that I liked the least. Couple it with the fact that my eyes weren’t even the same shade of brown so they didn’t match the hue of the spots and I was and always had been thoroughly annoyed by their existence.

Bleu stood like a little puppy dog next to Mable as she talked to Bri. The woman looked relieved to have a moment to set down her basket of goodies and wiped her brow from the sweat she was working up trying to keep everyone fed and happy. Her eyes kept wandering to her love struck son and a knowing smile sprung to her lips. After a few minutes, Mable gave a cheerful wave to them both and came back to the table, leaving poor Bleu looking torn as to whether he went back to his work or followed her. His mother put a gentle hand on his shoulder, gave him a hug, and whispered into his ear which was answered by him with a nod and he resumed delivering the requested items to tables, though he kept throwing wanton glances towards where we were sitting.

“She says there’s a special going on, the rooms are less than half what they should be right now since they’re having to ask guests to smush together right now to account for the overcrowding,” Mable happily reported and took a sip of her now cooler coffee.

“Less than half?” I asked in surprise, it seemed too good to be true. “But we have plenty of space in our rooms, that doesn’t make sense.”

“We got lucky and got here first. It would have been wrong to wake us up and demand we scoot in together in the middle of the night, plus she would have certainly gotten an eyeful if she had tried.” Mable let out a low, mischievous laugh. “It would also be wrong to charge us more than everyone else when we only got here a few hours before them for the exact same event. Plus we have to compete for food and service now.”

“I guess…” I still felt like it was too close to being some kind of special handout they were providing, but was it so bad if it was the same hand out everyone else was getting?

“Haven’t you ever heard of the saying not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“No.”

She let out a long, chuckling sigh and nodded like she should have known I wouldn’t. “We need to get your socialized more.”

“I’ve been in society for several years now,” I said defensively.

“Sitting in the same inn for most of it, if I remember correctly. No, you need to travel and meet different people, get some more experience and zest for the possibilities in the world… and learn the very basic metaphors and figures of speech at the very least.”

I took a long drink of my coffee to avoid trying to figure out anything to say to her. I had thought I was doing a pretty good job of fitting in, but she was right that there were sometimes things people would say off the cuff where they acted like I should understand what they meant and it made absolutely no sense to me. It worked in reverse too, I had long cut out anything I remembered my parents saying a lot from my common vernacular.

“Anyway, you have more money to work with now, we should go and get a new bow and case for you. I know you’re going to argue the case, but if I am ever going to get you out on the road as a traveling bard you need it to look at least somewhat nice. You don’t want the coins bouncing off the growing mushrooms when they toss in your tips.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” I protested, “it can last a little longer.”

“What if your fiddle starts growing mold? You’ll have to buy a whole new one then and you’ll regret not replacing it sooner because it’ll be a hell of a lot more expensive then.”

“Fine,” I grumbled and threw back my mug to slurp down the rest of my drink. “Better get me there quick before I talk myself out of it again.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said cheerfully.

We waded through the tables towards the fire where the couple had thoughtfully moved our instruments and accessories to the little table next to the fire that normally held the utensils needed to keep the fire stoked and maintained. They had moved all the iron tools to the ground and carefully arranged everything on the table so it would dry out and not be touched by people wanting the table we had been at. My case was definitely a lost cause, even though it had been left open towards the flames all night it was still a soaked mess, the slightly fuzzy interior was matted and uncomfortably moist. I couldn’t bring myself to set my fiddle in it and risk the moisture having more of a chance to ruin the varnish and set into the delicate wood of the instrument. The bow was a complete wash as I assumed it had been last night, as it dried the sinew had contracted and become super brittle, cracking as I tried to pick it up. The wood itself was also at an odd angle and would never be able to be set true again, there was no point in even bringing it with me to the shop in hopes it could be salvaged. With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the bow into the fire and watched as the flame hungrily took to the well oiled wood.

Mable put a comforting hand on my back and motioned that I should grab my case. I considered tossing it into the fire as well to maybe soothe some more of my frustrations about the situation, but the wet wool and paint burning would have stunk up the inn for everyone else and I didn’t want to ruin breakfast for everyone. Disgusted by how it already stunk like a wet dog, I closed the case, tucked my fiddle under my arm, and nodded that I was ready.

“I think I saw a place on the way in last night, let’s see if I can find it,” Mable said, leading the way to the street.

Bleu, very coincidentally, happened into our path right before the door. His face looked distressed to see us packed up and on our way out the door.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.

His eyes were so bloodshot and it looked like it was taking everything in him to keep upright. If he wasn’t still drunk, he was currently blossoming into the worst hangover of his life.

“Just popping out for some fresh air and music supplies,” Mable replied, holding up her warped reeds for effect.

Bleu nodded seriously like he understood, though I was pretty sure he was just pretending to impress Mable.

“We’ll be back for lunch probably,” she added, “unless we come across some good luck and find a nice little restaurant we want to try. We’ll play it by ear and do a little exploring once our errands are done.”

“Oh um…” he trailed off and looked flushed, like he was embarrassed by what he was thinking of asking. “I could show you around and take you out to lunch if you want… or dinner if you’re busy for lunch.”

“Oh how nice of you! I think Rose and I would like to have someone show us around later if we have time. We are both new to the city and would love to have a handsome, local young man show us all the happening spots. We might like to let loose some of this stress later if you know a good pub or two.”

His eyes focused on me for what might have been the first time since we had met and his face displayed a look of clear disappointment. I tried not to take it to heart, I knew he was most likely disappointed at the fact that he was not getting Mable all alone, but I still couldn’t help but think that if I had been as stunningly beautiful as her that he would have been a touch more thrilled at the idea of me tagging along.

“Just think, you're going out with two lovely ladies on your arm, you’ll be an envied man,” she said and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to her side to solidify that we were a package deal.

He didn’t say anything, just gave a nod of his head. He could at least have been a little nice and pretended that being seen with me wasn’t going to be such a chore.

“In fact, do you maybe have a friend so that we turn this into a four person affair instead of just the three of us?”

Oh no, she was trying to set it up to be a double date, I couldn’t see how this would end well. Whomever he found to be my blind date was going to see me next to Mable and surely feel like he got the bum deal.

“Oh I’m fine, really,” I said in as light of a tone as I could manage to mask the distress I felt at this being some sort of blind date nightmare. “You two can just go, I will probably want a quiet and early night anyway after all this excitement of being in a new city for the first time.”

“Nonsense, you need to get out more, we were just talking about this Rose.” She squeezed my waist tighter as a signal that I was not going to be able to wriggle my way out of this and her mind was made up. “Everything set then, you can find a friend?”

“I suppose I can find someone, I-”

“Perfect!” Mable exclaimed, cutting him off mid sentence in case there was some clause or “but” she didn’t want to hear.

Mable practically dragged me out the door and closed it behind us quickly, then pulled us off to the side to be out of the way, but she stared back at it to make sure it didn’t open with Bleu trying to pop out and change any of the plans she made. When it seemed like he had given up and wasn’t going to come out and try to change anything, Mabel’s shoulders slumped and she let out a groan.

“I really need to teach you how to speak ‘girl’ in social situations.”

“What?” I had no clue what she meant by that.

“You were trying to talk yourself out of coming along when I desperately wanted you to come with me,” she explained. “I need a buffer between me and him. He has that look in his eye that tells me he is considering doing something stupid like declaring his ever lasting love or something even more insane. It would not be the first time some guy has thought that one night rolling in the hay means that I’ll take a ring and agree to become his old lady.”

“Then why’d you agree to go at all?” I asked. “If you don’t want that, you could just break it now and save yourself the trouble and him a bit of heartache.”

“Then that would make things weird between us and maybe weird for us staying here, besides, he’s fun in bed,” she laughed. “It’ll be fine, I owe you one for putting up with whomever he figures out to bring and maybe you’ll even like him and get lucky too.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t,” she reassured with a smile, “but enough about our plans for tonight, that’s for Bleu to worry about working out, for now we need to look for that shop. I think it was down the street here a bit, but it was dark and it might be a little further than I’m remembering.”

Lucky for us the rain that had been present when we first woke for the day had pattered off leaving only dark slate clouds behind and a slight nip in the air. I was grateful that my fiddle could be exposed out of the case for now, but with the clouds still thick overhead I worried that it might start up at any point and I’d be stuck risking my instrument damage. Begrudgingly, the first alley we passed that had a pile of garbage already stacked up, I set my case on top and kept walking. Even if it did rain, I didn’t really want to put it back in there anyway.

“Here it is!” I heard Mable call from down the street. She hadn’t noticed that I had stopped to drop off the case and had kept walking. “The Lazy Piper, huh? Cute name.”

The sign for the shop was a set of bagpipes draped over a bartop next to a nearly empty pint glass. It really set the tone for the kind of person that was likely to own such a shop and my expectations were not disappointed when we walked in and were greeted by the sight of a man half slumped over his work counter, asleep. He looked pretty rough, just about as rough as Bleu had at the start of the morning. Several bagpipes in different states of repair sat around him, one of which was still clutched between his fingers as he had fallen asleep while working on it. Dark, disheveled hair flopped into his eyes, shading them from the light coming in from the front window, but from what I could see he had prominent features, with a strong jaw dotted with stumble he had neglected to shave that morning.

“Good morning,” Mable said loudly.

The man woke up with a start, jerking his head up to look at who was in his shop. He had sharp blue eyes, probably the brightest color of blue I had ever seen in my life. They looked to Mable, then to me and to my surprise they settled upon my face and did not give her a second glance.

“How can I help you ladies?” he asked as he jumped to his feet and set aside the instrument he had been working one.

I loved his accent the instant I heard it, it was so different from anyone I had been around so far. It was hard to place, especially since I had not had much experience with people not from the kingdom. If I had to guess he definitely wasn’t from the kingdom but had emigrated here at some point. His consonant sounds were guttural and his vowels fluid making the way he spoke sound lyrical, I found myself wondering if he had ever considered doing much singing. An interesting voice could get you far.

“Well I need some new reeds and my friend needs a new fiddle case and bow,” Mable explained.

“Easy enough,” the man nodded, stepping from behind the counter and walking over to gesture to the wall next to us. “Here is all the reed options, most of them are for pipes, but I have other styles too. As for fiddles, those are a personal favorite but not requested as much, if you’d join me at the counter I’ll personally help you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes boring into mine, if I wasn’t so sure that no one would be all that interested in me I would have sworn that he was coming on to me. Giving me one last, lingering look, he turned and walked back to the counter, expecting me to follow him.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Mable purred into my ear.

I looked at her like she was crazy, there was no way she thought he would have any interest in a girl like me, but her response was to reach over and smack me on the behind to get me walking. I don’t know why it worked, but it got me moving and I approached the counter feeling my stomach well up with butterflies.