Song of the Piper

::10:: Shards of Memory (Part 2)

Music is You've Stolen Your Last Shilling from the Assassin's Creed Syndicate OST. Play it!

Lovely blend of Elise above is by onederstruck-!

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Josef gasped abruptly, as though he were being seized with pain. He stumbled backwards, almost tripping over an invisible bump on the floor.

"Josef?" I rose out of my chair, alarmed.

He opened his mouth but said nothing. He seemed to be fighting with himself, trying to spew words out. "He—he—" Josef stuttered before releasing a cry of frustration. "I can't say anything! My tongue is tied, literally."

"You know who the Pied Piper is?" I squawked.

"I have a suspicion. It may or may not be true, but it's our best chance to find the truth." He gnashed his teeth. "Yet I can't say anything. There's a binding put upon me. I thought that it would weaken once I slowly started to recover my memories. Unfortunately, that's definitely not the case."

I frowned. A binding. So that meant he couldn't talk? "Couldn't you try to write it down?"

To my dismay, Josef shook his head. "Basically, the binding locks down on all my thoughts connected to...it. Only when I'm caught off guard or when I'm not in my senses can it be taken advantage of. Even then, it would take an extremely skilled Silvertongue to convince me to reveal everything."

"So I have to figure out everything on my own?" I moaned. Just when I thought that I had found a companion to help me wade through the mystery.

"Essentially, yes." He eyed me a little dubiously, as if not quite trusting me to be capable of taking care of myself. Asides from my bad leg though, I was fine. "I can steer you towards the right direction, but it will ultimately be up to you to decide whatever happens from now."

"You're not helping," I grumbled.

"I'm trying to," he said, exasperated. "Look, we're the closest to figuring out who the Pied Piper is in nearly a century."

"What if the Pied Piper isn't real? What if he's just some...fable? An excuse for the plague?"

"He is real, Klaudia." The use of my given name on his tongue was a cold shock. "What else could explain the sudden disappearance of magic and children?"

"And how do I know that you're telling the truth?" I fixed a glare upon him.

"Because I want to recover my memories as much as you do!" he shouted. He tore his eyes away from me, ashamed. They glimmered sadly, like onyxes under the moonlight. "I—I don't know what's happening, but I will figure it out, even if I have to die doing so."

Silence crept over us, unwelcome and hostile. "I'm sorry," I offered pathetically. "I'm just so confused. A few months back, I was just a cripple trying to survive in Hamelin. And now...everything is so different."

"I understand. This is a whole new world now though—you have to learn to survive by using other methods."

We didn't say anything for a while. Background noises roared in my ears: the groaning of wood against the wind; the sharp, staccato plops droplets made in a water clock; and the cacophony of activity in the city from a distance. "Thank you, Josef," I finally said.

"Thank you. You are the reason why we're having this conversation in the first place." He offered me an appreciative smile; I returned it.

"In conclusion, I have to find out who the Pied Piper is." I returned the flute into the safety of my pouch. "I'll take my leave first.