Friday, July 17

Mayvn’s turn… (Original Fiction by Xan)

“Now, who’s next?” Philomar said as he waved his hands and closed the ‘hammer room’ door.

“Me, me, me!” shouted Mayvn.

Philomar laughed at the musical joke already unfolding. “A bit out of tune, aren’t you Bard?”

“Well after the night I had, you’d be ‘singing a different tune.” Mayvn scowls, then composes himself, straightens his chain shirt, and curls his nose. “I need clothing befitting my station… SILK!” Mayvn smiles a shy but greedy smile.

“Hmmm…silk?” Philomar shoots the gangly man a quizzical look and exerts all his energy to not laugh out loud. “Let’s come back to that… what else? Perhaps an instrument?”

“Of course, a lute… please.” Mayvn tries not to sound overly anxious to get out of the chain mail.

“I have just the thing. Please follow me… try not to make too much noise.” Philomar laughs at the misfit in the mis-fit armor.

“Very funny.” Mayvn crosses his arms and pouts as they traipse further down the hallway. He mumbles, “I will eviscerate you in legend, every blemish, every pore…”

“Were here, are you finished?” Philomar frowns.

Mayvn turns red and lies. “I didn’t say anything.”

Philomar waves his hand and a gilded door opens to reveal a wall of musical instruments. “Perhaps I should pick one for you.” A lute gently begins to float. Mayvn’s eyes grow wider as it floats towards him.

“This is beautiful!” Mayvn raves, and then he regains his composure and puts on a face of complacency. “It’ll do for now.”

Philomar reached for the lute.

Mayvn screams out like a little girl, “MINE!” as he jumps to hold onto it.

“Let me show you something.” Philomar said in a tone similar of a parent toward their child.

Mayvn hesitates but slowly loosens his grip on the instrument. Philomar points to a lever just under the strings. “You see this?” He pushes the lever and out pops a dagger. “Be careful while you play, your sharp tongue may not be the only thing that could get you into trouble.”

Mayvn scratched his head. “Ah, I need a hat too! I had one that the shopkeeper said was very rare and there were only two others in the world.”

Philomar smiled, waved his hand and a hat materialized on Mayvn’s head. The hat had a wide brim pinned up on one side. Sandwiched between the pinned up brim and the body of the hat was a large peacock feather that swooped towards the back of the hat. The hat was very similar to ‘Betsy,’ the hat he owned before becoming a slave.

“Ah Betsy! I thought I had lost you forever!” He turned to the wizard. “How did you find her?!?!”

“Easy,” Philomar said. “I have an old chest full of ones just like ‘her.”
Mayvn scowled, remembering how much he paid for his ‘rare’ hat. “I knew it! No matter, this hat will be known as ‘Betsy II.’ She and I are will never be estranged again!”

“Now for the…uh….silks. Yes?” Philomar smiled.

“YES!” Mayvn shrieked like a little girl presented with a new doll. “Please!”

“Come this way.” Philomar began walking down the hallway once again and he stops in front of a small room with swinging shutter doors. “Step in there please.” He motions Mayvn to step into the small room.

Mayvn hesitated, then obliged. The wizard then pulled a silk rope with a tassel on the end and silks began to fall from the sky. They began to swirl around the bard.
Mayvn shrieked. “I can’t breathe! I will get you yet wizard! Your diabolical trap won’t keep me forever!”

The wizard just snickered as the swirling fabric slowly began to disappear. Mayvn gasped and he began to cry like a beauty queen.

“They’re beautiful,” he whimpered. “I’m beautiful!” Mayvn fell to his knees in the hallway and wept over his newfound beauty. Philomar smiled and left him to weep.

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