Callista was on a mission. A simple one, really—find a tuning fork that vibrated at exactly 423.7 aetheric cycles per second, bring it back to the workshop, and complete her calibration tests without causing any minor catastrophes, unintentional fires, or social incidents.
It was now nearing sunset.
Aether, clinging to her shoulder like a deeply concerned assistant, let out a small beep. Translation: "We have been on this errand for seven hours."
Callista, hair now even more chaotic than usual, spun on her heel, exasperated. “Listen, I don’t need the attitude. It’s not my fault the only fork in this forsaken city with the exact resonance I need happens to be—” she gestured wildly at the massive, rune etched chime hanging from the central spire of the Hollow Market “literally welded into an ancient resonance stabilizer keeping the entire underground bazaar from collapsing!”
Aether peered up at the enormous structure, beeped again. Translation: "You are considering theft."
Callista crossed her arms. “It’s not theft. It’s borrowing. With the intent to return. Eventually. Probably.”
Unfortunately, before she could even begin to formulate a plan involving alchemy, pulleys, and an unreasonable amount of luck, a bard caught her staring at it too hard. A very dramatic bard...
“Ah-ha!” The bard strode forward, his silver-threaded coat billowing in the flickering frostglass lanterns. “You! You have the look of one who seeks an instrument of true purity! A relic of perfect resonance! And yet, you cannot simply take it. No, my dear, you must prove yourself worthy!”
Callista blinked. “I was actually just thinking of prying it off with a crowbar, but go on.”
The bard ignored her. “A duel! A musical battle to prove your soul’s harmony! Should you best me, I shall grant you access to an instrument most divine!”
Aether let out a single, mechanical chirp. Translation: "You play no instruments."
Callista narrowed her eyes. “I can play the workshop anvil.”
The bard gasped, clutching his chest as though personally offended. “You mean percussion? Barbaric! But very well, we shall duel! Let the instruments be brought forth!”
A nearby merchant, clearly used to this nonsense, produced a pair of instruments—one was a fine enchanted lyre, the other was a set of wooden spoons.
Callista stared at them.
The bard, already strumming a dramatic opening chord, grinned. “Your weapon of choice?” He said as Callista snatched up the spoons, twirling them like twin daggers.
“Let’s do this.”
Twenty minutes later, a crowd had gathered.
Aether, seated atop a stack of rare Abyss-touched tomes, watched the madness unfold with all the mechanical neutrality of a construct who had seen too much.
Callista, hair in full disarray now, was currently standing on a crate, playing the spoons with a level of aggression typically reserved for combat. The bard, determined not to be outdone, was halfway through a solo that, frankly, had too many notes in it. The audience, fully invested, was clapping along in rhythm.
Somewhere in the chaos, a street magician joined in with a hurdy-gurdy. Someone else produced bagpipes. The resonance chime began humming along in perfect, accidental harmony. While a confused merchant, just trying to sell cursed daggers, found himself unintentionally conducting the entire thing.
Then, with one final, over-the-top flourish, Callista (goggles skewed, spoons vibrating, energy at maximum) brought the performance to a mighty crescendo.
The Hollow Market erupted into cheers.
The bard, dramatic and begrudgingly impressed, bowed low. “You are chaotic, yet inspired. Unhinged, yet undeniable. I yield.”
Callista, panting, ( Her hair seeming to take a life on of its own) held up a single shaking spoon. “Gimme the fork.”
Somewhere, hours later, Callista trudged back into her workshop, clutching the prized tuning fork like a warrior returning from battle. Aether, now wearing a bardic sash and inexplicably in possession of a miniature tambourine, chirped contentedly.
She dropped the fork onto the workbench, collapsed into her chair, and stared at the ceiling. “…We never speak of this again.”
Aether, without hesitation, tooted a small, triumphant fanfare.
From outside her window, someone had begun playing the spoons.
Callista groaned.
