The Man in Black

The boisterous conviviality of Dia City never ceases. Day and night, sunshine and pouring rain. Multitudes of people from all over the Republic of Strölandia come to indulge in the luxuries of life. Its elegant architecture, tall buildings, and marble courthouses inspire every young mason to hone their skills in the art of all-natural stones. The constant demand and need from the soul for the aesthetically pleasing attracts all artists to give the people the sustenance they so require for their minds, eyes, ears, and hearts. Here the best poets, novelists, sculptors, painters, actors, theatre directors, and musicians thrive like no other place in the Republic of Strölandia. Terra Novus is an unforgiving world, but people learn to live with the reality of the unexpected and constant danger of what lurks in the remote reaches of this world. Even then, sprawling cities are no strangers to the macabre. 

To be exact! On the west side of Galloway Plaza, a riveting polka band plays their tunes. The regulars in the plaza, merchants, and patrons know them too well and enjoy them so. One beautiful morning, while the band played their jigs, a tall man garbed in all black sauntered through the plaza. Unsuspecting townsfolk paid no mind to the man for he was there for the same reasons as all the others, to enjoy the music and dance the morning away. Older in age, he moved like a young athletic lad full of vigor putting all the others close to his actual age to shame. He smiled, moved his feet to the beat, laughed when he got off rhythm, and cheered after every tune.

Once the band finished their number, the townsfolk dispersed and continued their shopping and sightseeing. The man in black stayed awhile, patiently waiting while the band members cleaned their instruments and put them away in their cases. He abided by his time and when he felt it right he approached the leader of the quintuplet.

“Good day to you sirs and madam! A spectacular performance indeed.” Each member gave their thanks and gestured to the man their appreciation of the compliment. “It’s a beautiful day today,” said the man in black. “I just so happen to be hosting a very special get-together at my manor this afternoon. It’s nothing too big, only family, close friends, and a few work associates will be present. I would like to employ your services for this special party, I would love nothing more than for my guests to have the best music and drink available!”

“We appreciate your kind offer,” said the lead troubadour. “But we already have arrangements for the rest of the day.”

“Whatever you are being paid for this afternoon. I will triple it,” followed up the man with great confidence.

“Triple it?”

“Indeed…I spare no expense.”

“We expect to get paid 50 silver.”

“Splendid! 150 sil- no! How about 200 silver, and of course, you can eat and drink all you want. The catering will be nothing but the best.”

The quintuplet spent little time discussing the man’s terms and agreed to clear their schedules to go play at his party.

“I can give you directions to my manor, or you can follow my coach...either way is fine by me.”

The group decided to follow the man’s coach to his property and they all gathered their instruments and loaded them up in their group wagon. Before departing for the man’s domicile, he again gave the group directions just in case they got lost and he also said: “Once we reach my abode you will not see me again for a while, there are some matters I need to attend to, but please go on inside the property and set up anything you need to feel comfortable for your performance.”

The man’s coach was of expensive taste, some of the ensemble could not help but gawk at the path they were taking for they knew the road they were on led to the North-East side where on the outskirts of the city were the communities of the elite and wealthy of Dia City. Upon arriving at the manor, the driver of the coach signaled where he had to turn and let the troubadours continue where they could stop and unload their wagon. The band was able to get a good look at the estate and the beautiful green land it encompassed. There were other wagons stationed close by from other guests, and a few servants who were walking towards the main entrance of the house with peculiar urgencies. There was no one to greet the band specifically or any signs of a platform or stage in where they may be performing. Without giving much thought, they took their instruments and approached the doors ready to receive some directions on where they would be needed.

A strange lanky fellow wearing rather costly attire to be one of the common help opened the door. His expression was flat and his eyes were puffy, clear snot ran down one nostril like water dripping from a faucet, he cleaned his face with his handkerchief. Before the quintuplet could speak, the lanky fellow closed the door on the musicians. A few seconds passed before anyone could process what had happened, but in an instant, the door opened again. This time the queer fellow was accompanied by an older woman wearing a black lace veil.

“What is the meaning of this?!” She exhibited irritability looking up and down at the musicians. “Who are you and why are you here? Don’t you see we are watching over our deceased?" The group had no response for they were confused as to what they heard. “Well?!” Followed up the woman impatiently. “Our souls are covered in deep mourning, we don’t have time for sick pranks or jokes. I suggest you leave.”

“Madam,” said the lead troubadour before having the door closed on them again. “We were requested and invited by a delightful chap to come and play for a party. H-He never mentioned this was a vigil.”

“A party? Who was it that told you we were having a party?!”

“He was older, white mustache, had dimples.”

“He had a mole on his left side, under the ear,” said another one of the band members.

“Yes, ugh dressed in all black. We followed his coach to this estate, he told us this was his manor. He seemed very vigorous and sturdy, happy actually about this day.”

After a brief pause, the woman allowed the musicians to enter the home. “He was my brother,” she said in a calm voice.

The band was welcomed to where other guests were and were told they could stay. To the band’s surprise, the one who had hired them was the deceased. He lay in his coffin, which was glossy and brown, he was clad in all black, his skin pale and cold, and he was surrounded by those who loved him. The band members felt it was inappropriate for them to stay but were encouraged to play their jigs for they had already made the journey and they knew deep in their hearts that this was what he wanted. The band played and sang, tune after tune cheering the guests and celebrating life well lived. They followed the deceased to his final resting place and saw to it that they played their best songs while he was interred, his final journey engulfed by the world. They were compensated well and went on their way. Days, weeks, and months passed by. The polka continued in Galloway Plaza and other parts of Dia City, none of them could believe what had happened on that peculiar day. They never questioned it though, they fulfilled their contract and never stopped bringing joy to those around them. Every now and then they would see queer sorts dancing and having the time of their lives. But never dressed in all black. It didn’t matter, they were ready at a moment’s notice for the delightfulness of music is congenial to all.