The plucking of the mandola strings was quiet, but audible. Otis sat with his back to the wall, in the hull of the Fìor ship. He had been taken from the docks of a town that was being attacked a few weeks prior.

It wasn’t all that bad, honestly. Warm. Cozy. They fed him fairly well, and even let him keep the mandola. But oh, it was dreadfully boring.

He didn’t even know why he had been kidnapped. Ransom, probably. Not that anyone would buy him back. He wasn’t known to be the most loved Valanian citizen — though he had his admirers. Those who knew his music and not his personality, though rare, did seem to have quite the high opinion of him.