Universe's End

Chapter 248: Delta Blue

“It’s been a bit,” John said with a grin, an easy expression on his face. For a moment, Rory was transported a hundred years back, to when the man was only about twelve. Long gone was the immature boy; now leaning back in his chair was a tall man with an easy smile and calloused hands.

“It has,” Rory agreed. Of the original generation, Irene’s two siblings, John, her younger brother, and Greg, her fraternal twin, were probably the two he saw around the least, given neither had taken up with professions that ran parallel to his own activities.

“Supreme Monster Pizza is served,” another voice said as Irene's fraternal twin, Greg, appeared, placing a pizza on the table and sitting around it. The three of them formed a triangle, and instantly, hands shot out, snatching slices. “By the way, am I getting paid for this or is it on the house?”

“I don’t think Mr. Rory even has credits to his name,” John pointed out before grabbing two slices, scarfing one down in moments.

“Guilty as charged,” Rory admitted before snagging a slice of the pizza for himself. Taking a bite, Rory all but melted into his chair.

Damn, that is good.

“Made using the meat from some high-quality tier seven monsters,” Greg said, answering the unsaid question.

“Nice,” Rory replied, ready for another slice after scarfing one down already.

“Hey, Rory, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Rory said, leaning back. “What’s up?”

Rory was half expecting some big favor or task, and while he didn’t mind putting in some extra effort for the likes of the original generation, there was still a limit.

“Swing by my newest place that opened up.”

“Another restaurant?” Rory asked, surprised. “I thought you had stepped back.”

“I had, but then I was approached by a young man. Elijah was his name. He had some… ideas, ideas I’ve never heard before. And, I couldn’t lie, there was something else about him. You remember how Old Man Kal loved to play instruments?”

“Yeah,” Rory nodded.

“Same with this Elijah guy. Said it was something calling out to him in his dreams, a ‘music in his blood’ as he called it. He apparently spent over three decades developing an instrument all his own with the sound he needed. Long story short, after the young man gave me a show, I couldn’t say no.”

“And so, all you want… is for me to show up?”

“Yep,” Greg said with an easy grin. “It’s not just me. John here personally designed the venue based on some of the thoughts the young man had.”

“I’m not a direct partner,” John shook his head. “But it's been a while since I directly involved myself, and it wasn’t just my people doing the building.”

“Hmmm,” Rory thought about it for a second before chuckling. “Yeah, why not?”

As the twin suns set, Rory found himself peering at his clothes.

You know, I really haven’t spent much time thinking about outfits for outings in a LONG time.

The problem was, he didn’t really have any outfits that felt fitting; he didn’t want to appear overly pretentious with some fancy ‘Lord Founder’ style outfit.

Hmmm. Light brown pants, white t-shirt. I could probably whip up some suspenders.

While Rory was hardly a tailor, he was a tier eight crafter; if it were mundane items, he could fashion them in no time at all.

“Yeah, why not?”

Only a short bit later, Rory was checking himself out in front of a mirror, feeling rather spiffy.

Never did wear suspenders back on Earth. Actually, I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone wearing suspenders here…. Ehh, fashion trends.

Giving a flex to the black material he’d used to make the suspenders, some leftover fabric from… some project or another, Rory nodded to himself.

Sort of wish I had one of those fancy hats that used to go with this style of outfits, but hey, I was on a time limit.

Rory felt like he either looked like some of the old photos he’d seen of millennial fashion or that he’d walked off the set of some old-timey gangster movie.

But I still look spiffy.

Feeling as if he were ready, Rory focused for a moment as he locked onto the coordinates of his destination before reality flickered around him and he found himself standing outside of a building constructed of black wood. Cresting it was a single word, Blue, within a glowing blue triangle.

Yep, this is the place.

‘Blue’ was the name of the joint that Greg and his newest partner, Elijah, had opened together, though Greg was in truth more of a sponsor or investor based on how he’d described it to Rory over the duration of their meal.

There was actually quite the crowd for the place's grand opening, a crowd that was a reminder to Rory just how large Ehkorrus was getting, having now crossed thirty thousand people.

Well, time to show off my favor.

Making it a point of sauntering to the entrance, he heard the crowd whisper and then go silent as they realized none other than the Lord Founder was here for the grand opening. Reaching the door, Rory couldn’t help but smirk as he realized who the ‘bouncer’ was.

“How exactly did he get you involved?” Rory asked.

“There was a promise of Smoke Wine,” Eia said. Her massive frame was partially wrapped around the building, something Rory hadn’t realized at first and simply assumed was part of the décor.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“The Guardian Beast probably shouldn’t be so easily bought,” Rory snorted.

“I am not,” Eia sniffed the air indignantly, her head the size of Rory’s entire body. “It is specialty brewed by the Great Cook himself.”

“Whatever you say,” Rory chuckled one last time before waving at the door. “May I enter?”

Eia took a moment to look him up and down, her tongue flicking out as if confirming something.

“You may.”

Greg really went all in on making this a successful venture.

Entering the establishment, Rory paused for a moment to take in the décor and scenery. It was surprisingly rustic, with plain wood used for most of the stools and even the bar, with a heavy wooden stage set under dim lights, a faint smoky haze filling the air. The man working behind the bar had skin as dark as obsidian and a well-worn brown vest tucked in by a light blue folded handkerchief, like an impromptu tie, but most importantly, he had a brimmed black hat that he tipped toward Rory.

See, that’s what I’m missing for the outfit!

Stepping from behind the bar, the man approached Rory before offering him his hand and nodding low.

“Lord Founder.”

“Oh, you must be Elijah,” Rory realized after a moment, grasping the man’s outstretched hand.

“It is an honor to meet you in person,” Elijah said.

“The pleasure is mine,” Rory said easily. “Greg told me you are quite the young man.”

“Young man,” Elijah laughed. “I suppose to you two, given I’m in my late forties.”

“Quite the young man,” Rory repeated with a good-humored smile. “Is this all your idea?”

“To say it was all me would be claiming too much credit,” Elijah shook his head. “I was offered help from both Mr. Greg and Mr. John.”

"Hah, those two spoke of you as if you were the real source of inspiration, so you don't need to be modest," Rory grinned.

"When you say it like that," the man inclined his head, the faint touch of a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "I may have had some input."

“More importantly, you’re also quite a unique musician from what I heard,” Rory cocked an eyebrow at the man, getting to the heart of why he was here. “Mind if I get an early showing before the rest of the crowd enters?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Elijah said as he stepped away from Rory, heading toward the stage and snapping up an instrument from where it was placed just out of sight behind a curtain.

Oh, that almost looks like a modified guitar. Interesting.

Ehkorrus had been around long enough now that plenty of instruments had been reborn in their universe, but Rory hadn’t even seen one quite like the one that Elijah was now holding as he sat himself on the stool. It had four ‘necks,’ each with a varying number of strings, that could seamlessly rotate between, like rotating shelves.

Watching quietly, Rory saw as the younger man began to slowly stomp on the stage.

Ahh, I get why the stage is made of extra-heavy wood now; it's an instrument in its own right.

Within moments of the man stomping and plucking away at the strings, Rory felt the smile on his face. He’d hardly call himself a musical snob, but listening to the man belt out tunes, it was instant recognition.

Blues.

There had been a saying back on Earth that blues ran in the blood, and it seemed as if the younger man had put that to the test, the ‘music in his blood’ unmistakable as delta blues.

As novel as that was, Rory found his smile widening as Elijah swapped between the sets of stringed necks of the instrument, as something more akin to modern blues called out from the man.

For several minutes, Rory lost track of time as he enjoyed himself, transported to another place. The hazy fog seemed to thicken, the dim lights reflecting through the smoke like images.

Except it wasn’t just ‘like’ images, as Rory’s eyes widened. They were blurry and almost nonsensical, but he could see them, callings of musical history long erased from existence.

And then the show was over.

“How was it?” Elijah called out as the spell Rory was under was broken, and the song came to an end.

“Your vocation,” Rory asked, still drinking in what he’d experienced. “What exactly is it?”

“Umculi,” Elijah answered. “No idea if that means anything.”

“Huh,” Rory shrugged.

“You have an idea?”

“Nope,” Rory answered honestly. “Music related, I take it?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you’ve got yourself a fan here,” Rory chuckled. “I know Greg and John already helped you out, but I’ve decided. You need a patron, you have one. While I can’t promise that I’ll always be on call, as long as it's nothing too far out there, I’ll be happy to help you out if you ever need anything.”

Between life on Earth and his over a hundred years on Aelia, not once had Rory had an experience with music quite like that. It was, well, it was profound, and that came from someone who had the closest thing to a ‘God’ in their universe, on –if not speed dial— at least in his email contact.

Elijah’s eyes widened as he quickly bowed to Rory.

“Thank you!”

“No need to bow to me,” Rory chuckled. “Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to have quite the future ahead of you.”

With that, Rory flickered away. Not very far, mind you, as he reappeared on a small balcony overlooking the bar's mainstage. “Don’t mind me, just finish prepping whatever you need in the meantime.”

With another tip of his hat, the younger man got back to finish up with his final preparations as Rory could only frown.

I really need one of those hats.

The performance was everything Rory had hoped for and then some. As people were let in, the hazy fog thickened, though never so much as to obscure anyone’s sight as to be a danger. More and more bodies pressed in, and some figures even made their way to the balcony, doing a double take as they noticed Rory quietly observing from the corner. Growing tired of the reaction, he twisted his hand as the hazy fog seemed to swirl more thickly around him, obscuring him further so that others would hopefully look past him.

Outside of the moments when he’d be the object of surprised scrutiny, the joint grew gradually more rowdy as the night went on, phantasmal figures and images dancing through the haze as Elijah played and people stomped about and danced with the rhythmic string plucks.

Slipping out for a period, Rory found himself leaning against the outside wall as Eia’s large head hovered even with his own.

“It has been some time since I last experienced anything like this.”

“That it has,” Rory chuckled.

The two were silent for some time before Eia’s large tongue flicked outward with a mental huff.

“Speak. I already know the topic.”

“You’ve spent quite some time down in the former undercity.”

“I have.”

“And?”

“It is strange. Interactions with my blood kin were limited over the decades, and yet now that they are gone, I do find myself somewhat remiss for things that never occurred.”

“How sentimental of you.”

“Hmph,” Eia flicked her tongue indignantly. “Life is not fair, and my sire learned that firsthand. I am at least satisfied that in his fall, he may continue on in the digested significance of Cruor-Shu.”

“Any thoughts on Cruor-Shu?”

“Few, if only because it is far from a talkative thing. It slumbers more than even I do, even if its attention seems constant and vast.”

“Well, she is a tree.”

“A surprisingly good perch for napping as well, after I have had my fill,” Eia said with a hint of humor.

“Oh? Have you been hunting much?”

“Somewhat. The depths of the lake, which my sire would spend much time in, are filled with powerful tier seven and even some tier eight monsters. Unfortunately, it is not an environment suited for you.”

“Not quite an aquatic animal, no,” Rory said, patting at his neck and the lack of gills.

“Oh, there is one other matter.”

“Really? Something to do with the Rong?” Rory asked, the only thing he could think of, given that the former undercity was officially their territory.

“No. It is Cruor-Shu. It, she, requests your presence.”

“Huh, not what I was expecting,” Rory said. “Any reason why?”

“Not that I specifically know of. While Cruor-Shu may be young in years directly lived, it already has the impression of an old being, so I doubt it is for any frivolous reason.”

“And how exactly did you get this message passed along to you?”

“While napping within her branches, I was visited by a dream. It is hard to explain, other than the intent was pressed into my psyche through a collection of impressions.”

“Interesting,” Rory said as he crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose I know my next destination.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“No,” Rory shook his head. “It can wait. After all, I’ve still got more of a show to catch.”