Knowing things comes with finding things. 

The route to Torelen actually didn’t leave them directly in Torelen. The closest port was actually a little north of Banesur and the end of the line was technically the second closest port to Torelen. Nero may have implied to Azui that they would have to ride through to the end of the river, and that may have not been an accident. 

He felt horrible for leaving him that evening nevertheless, and left him instructions of where to find him in Torelen once he arrived at the final port. 

The difference in time was actually not even that dramatic, Azui would arrive half a day after him at most. 

All these truths, all these reasonings, did nothing for his guilt. 

Azui had a sister. 

Neither his mother or father mentioned it to him, and it was fair to assume that she did not know about his existence either. 

And while he hadn’t found anything to say it in definite, Nero believed that her existence was the reason their mother was pressured to leave Gaidos when she did. He supposed it was equally probable that his mother did not wish to be separated from her second child after being separated from first. 

In her letters it was clear how she longed to be a part of her child's life. There was a chance she left on her own accord in order to protect her daughter. 

If his math was correct,  she was around 19 years old. She resided in Torelen, and performed in a tavern- one located (ironically) across the statue of the ugly turtle Azui had told him about. 

Standing in front of the turtle, Nero did fail to see the artistic message behind its existence.

He walked around and into the tavern shortly before noon. There were some patrons around, eating lunch, or like Nero, late breakfast. 

He arrived into town in the early hours of the morning, and caught a couple of hours of sleep in an inn down the road.  The town was busier and louder than he remembered it being when he passed through before. All the same, it had been a number of years and the visit itself had been brief. 

She had the same blue eyes as her brother, and the same elvish bone structure. Her hair was not as fair as his but there was no doubting she was related to him. It was too soon to say if their musical talents were on par because she was not singing yet. She was taking drink orders from tables. 

She approached Nero’s table with a bright, eager expression. “You’re not from around here. Welcome to Russell’s, my name is Aria, what can I get for you?” 

“Aria Forte, if you have a moment, I would like to speak to you.” She was taken back by his use of her last name. “My name is Nero, and I have been hired by your brother to find your mother.” 

The sun set earlier in Torelen because of the time of year. Despite the coolness in the air, Nero was sweating. In the blue glow of the evening he could see the disappointed expression in Azui’s eyes as he stomped down the road, suitcase in hand. 

As he came into focus, it became less disappointed and more pouting, and admittedly this relieved Nero’s anxiety. 

“I can’t believe you would leave me!” exclaimed the musician. “I thought we were in this together.” 

Nero held up his hands in a calming motion, “We were-are. Did you get my note? I had to know for sure before I subjected you to any more unnecessary stress.” 

“Me? Stress? I can handle stress, I would’ve been fine if you were merely upfront about it”

“Yes, but Azui-”

“Zui,” he corrected. 

“Zui, you were not the only party involved.”

That statement softened his expression. “Oh.”

“You have a sister.” 

His eyes widened, and he blinked wildly, glancing every which way. “I-I…”

“As she has explained to me, she is the reason your mother left Gaidos. Your father initially promised your mother that when he took you to raise you, that she would be allowed to see you. When he didn’t keep his promise, and she became pregnant with your sister, she made the choice to leave Northern Gaidos in order to prevent history from repeating.” Nero roughly summarized what Aria had disclosed to him.

“She… knew about me then?” he asked. 

So far he was receiving the news well, staying attentive and collected. 

“Not until after your mother passed. She alluded to you in her will. She didn’t leave her specific details, only that she had a son in Gaidos that she was forced to leave behind. She would like to meet you if you are interested, but understands if you don’t wish to. She’s inside,” he said pointing to the inn behind them. “In room 8, if you wish to talk to her in private.”

Zui nodded, inhaling slowly. “I do, thank you.” He stood there, hesitating before looking up at Nero again, “Can I make a strange request?”

Nero had a hard time saying ‘no’ to the young talent, and over time he was worrying less and less about it. Instead accepting it as a fact of his life. “Yes.”

“Can I hold your hand for a second?” 

“Erm,” before he could form the thought Nero was holding his hand out for him.

And Zui meant it when he said a  ‘second’, he took his hand, squeezed it tightly, and let it go. “Sorry, I’m a performer. I don’t get nervous. I… wasn’t expecting a sister.”

Promptly, he headed into the inn, but not before thanking Nero again from the door. 

They spoke late into the night, which Nero found promising. Notwithstanding the fact they were speaking in his rented room and the night was cold. He wound up checking into a second room when he began to lose feeling in his fingers. 

In the morning, outside his door, Zui stood waiting for him with a crumpled bag and a drink. Back in character, he handed the bag and the drink to Nero, while walking past him into his room.

“Sorry about taking so long last night, I’ll compensate you for the room.” He sat down on the edge of his bed, “I need another favor.”

Nero eyed the contents of the bag, a pastry, then looked back at the young man, waiting to know what the favor was before agreeing this time. 

“She told me where my mother’s grave is, but now I need you to talk me into going.”

The finder bit into the pastry,.“Was this not the whole point of you coming here?”

“Yes. But perhaps I’m more of a coward than I remember myself being.”

“You are not a coward. In fact, I’d say you’re far from it.”

“I am far from it, aren't I?” He agreed to that quickly, jumping up and walking past him again, “Let us go now then.”

Nero hadn’t realized he was part of the plan, although he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. 

The walk to St. Anne’s parish was a quiet one, filled solely with the ambient sound of the street. It was early in the day and on a weekend, so not many people were out and about so early. 

They went around the back of the church and into the cemetery, where a few people were already paying respects to their loved ones. Zui knew where he was going, leading the way to his mother’s stone. 

“Aria said the staff at the tavern pooled together to pay for the stone,” he explained. 

The stone was simple, with her name and a line from a popular sonnet engraved on it. 

“She also said the tavern owners took her in after our mother passed. They’re kind old folks according to her. She would like me to meet them.” The musician unstrapped the case he carried on his back, and took the famed mandolin out from its padded shelter. 

He took a seat next to the stone, facing it and away from Nero. The faux detective took this as a sign of his wanting privacy. He stepped back and took a seat on a nearby bench. 

They sat soundlessly for many minutes. Then, Zui began to play. 

Nero was taken back to that night at the Blind Bull, and how the sounds of the mandolin had lured him out of his pool of self pity. This song was not the same song as that night. The effect the music cast on him varied. Shifting from the lure to a safe place, and into a dive straight into the unknown. One that struck you with a fear not unwelcome. One with an adrenaline that made him want to know more about the things in the world that may not have complete meanings. 

Then the mandolin cried, it did not weep, it ached. It longed for lost souls, for lost love. Nero hadn’t known music could do that. 

Nero lost his father young, and for many years- he did not know he was missing a part of himself. Suppressing it out of his subconsciousness. A connection that was severed when his father’s family cut Nero and his mother from the Rudan tribe they were previously welcome to. 

His mother could not fight, and he was too young to fight. They did not fit into the hierarchy. 

Looking back, they had all the reason to. If they couldn’t contribute to their nomadic lifestyle, then they were only burdens. Life on the road might have had its appeal in his mother’s youth, in her later years, not so much. 

He had been so focused on finding closure for Zui, that he had become oblivious to his own open wound. A wound that would likely never be filled but perhaps could be stitched closed with the strings from this mandolin…

Azui stood up, his song completed. A 20 minute journey, that even he struggled to get through. Not because he lacked the skill, but because of how draining of his ardor the piece had been. 

Quietly, he packed up his instrument and walked up to Nero. 

“Thank you,” he said with a sullen look in his eyes. His mouth thin in protest, refusing to waver, denying any hint of his sentiments from coming through. 

His resistance unraveled the second Nero saw through his guise. When he noticed Nero’s own mask cracking, he cracked. Zui began to weep openly, and Nero sat at his side, patting him on the back, and omitting the occasional sniffle.