Clocksong Ch. 01

NOTICE

This is very much a work in progress. Revisions to come in the future, especially in pacing. Any literary critique is more than welcome. I have big plans, so this will probably be several dozen chapters, probably around 50.

This is a slower moving steampunk fantasy novel. This isn't a story for a quick wank, erotic content won't be present for a few chapters. It also probably won't follow most standard romance or erotica trends or standards, but everything happens for a reason, within the context of the themes of the story.

Enjoy!

- Chapter 1

Being a watchmaker's assistant was not a thrilling job to many.

But as Tito watched the delicate hands of the old master clocksmith gently lower a nearly microscopic gear into place, her aging yet perfectly precise hands holding a pair of worn gear tweezers, he was fascinated. The shiny brass gear was slowly nested in with the rest of the complex mechanism, its axis falling into its socket with a near imperceptible click. The woman exhaled and wiped sweat from her forehead. "You'd think placing scraps of metal in an old brass case would get easier over the years. I feel like it just gets harder, with these fancier and fancier watch designs."

Tito grinned. "Nah, you're just old. Losing motor functions and brain capacity."

The elder swiftly kicked a leg of Tito's chair in. The young man yelped as the support was removed from beneath him and collapsed backwards. "I'll make sure you lose brain capacity if you keep harassing me, child."

"Oi, I just fixed that chair, you git." He stood up, dusting off his baggy work pants. "Gonna have to replace the whole leg this time."

"You'll be replacing your own leg next time you mess up my clocksmithing."

Tito grinned. He loved the old geezer. He leaned against the table, rubbing his bruised elbow. "It's getting dark. I'm headed home, I think. You should too, Huli. Heard a few shops got broken into down the street."

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe tomorrow. Backed up on orders."

"Huli!"

She cracked a smile at Tito. "I'll lock the shop up in ten. Go to hell, boy."

He smiled back. "Love you too." He pulled off his old goggles, with dusty retractable lenses of different magnifications, and hung them on the rack next to the door in the corner of the chamber. He waved farewell to Huli before exiting the workroom.

Behind the door was a much larger yet more cramped room, of wooden floors and dim lighting. Where Huli's workroom had been lined with shelves of gear bits and old watch and clock husks, adorned only by a simple yet bright electric lighting fixture and a large sturdy work table, this shoproom was filled with tables and ornate glass shelvings, upon all of which were dozens if not hundreds of beautiful timekeepers. Glistening watches of dozens of makes sat in rows, of both the wristwatch and the pocketwatch varieties, timekeepers for the working man and the business man, respectively. A few rich wooden grandfather clocks stood along one wall, though most clocks were smaller, either wall mounted with hanging weights or smaller clocks with feet to rest on a desk or shelf. The sight used to take Tito's breath away, but he'd seen it so often, the awe rarely tugged on him like it used to.

Tito whistled as he opened a cabinet, where a few of his personal items hung on hooks or lay on the bottom shelf. He picked his worn leather jacket from its hanger and threw it on, before grabbing his own timepiece - a simple brass pocketwatch - and his pistol. The chunky hand cannon was hardly a masterpiece, in beauty nor in functionality, but he'd built it with his mother long ago. Huli would never let him bring it into the workroom, but he still brought it with him, in part because of its use as a defensive weapon, and in part because he couldn't allow himself to get rid of it. It's all I got left of her.

Tito swept aside the dark thoughts, reminding himself of the corn bread Lucienne had waiting for him at home. Life was too short for dark thoughts. Especially when cornbread was waiting.

The city streets were profusely busy, as they often were this time of day. People poured on to the wide central street from shops and side streets, wearing trousers and dusters, skirts and blouses. A few of the cityfolk wore evening dresses or suits with cravats, but they typically rode in carriages, lead by drivers on horseback that cussed at the common folk ahead of them that wouldn't move, who responded back in kind. Tito even spotted a Gearshifter above, soaring in a bright cloak with an odd, handgun-like device in hand, cables attached to the taller builds above.

Pushing his jealousy aside, Tito walked up the street towards the center of the bustling city, walking behind a carriage so he didn't have to force his way through rushing civilians. Walking behind carriages was slower than not when the streets were this busy, but he didn't mind. He wasn't a fan of pushing and shoving. Too crass.

After a half bell of following the ornate carriage, Tito noted his stop, where he walked into a staired alley, and bound up the stairs. On the other side of the shortcut was the back side of a grand estate, made of alabaster marble and dark slate. He snuck around to the front of the estate through dense bushes and a small orchard - Lucienne frowned upon him using the back entrance, so he made sure she didn't know.

After making his way to the front of the alabaster manor, he nodded to the butler out front - who was technically his superior, but Tito was good friends with the man - and swung open the grand, white painted wooden doors. Tito had previously felt them unnecessarily large and expensive, but he quickly found swinging open the doors to feel incredibly grandiose. It was addicting, really.

"I'm home!" He called, almost striding immediately across the lavish mud room, before remembering to take off his dusty shoes and jacket, hanging them on a rack next to the other servant's belongings.

A maid, who was washing a candelabra, sniffed. "No need for the rude entry every evening. Rummi has vocal lessons now."

"Oh shush, Beverli. Rummi and I are duetting. Our beautifully pitched voices harmonize like angels."

The girl snorted. "Hers, maybe. Your voice sounds like a cow giving birth."

"Exactly." He looked over at Beverli. She was a shorter girl, with curly silver hair that she kept up in a tight bun. He had of course made advances on her years ago, as a teen, as she was near his age and insufferably cute, but had given up some time ago. Not that he minded being friends with her. "You want some cornbread? Heard Lucienne was making some today."

"Most certainly not. I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you before it gets through your dense skull, but servants don't dine from the lady's kitchen. I have no clue why Lady Lucienne would let the likes of you dine with her."

Tito grinned. "I mean if I were in her shoes, I would certainly invite me too."

"Yes, because you have the competence of a half eaten roadkill after a vulture vomited it up." She blushed at her crude expression, causing Tito to laugh. "Now your crass hyperboles are rubbing off on me, dammit."

"Good! You're too dry on your own." He turned around and waved her off. "Going to snag some cornbread. You're missing out, woman."

"Suit yourself. Much rather listen to my own thoughts than those of a half baked toy maker."

Tito flipped her a certain rude gesture as he rounded the corner, opting not to respond.

He strode down the wide, brilliant halls until he found himself in a large, brightly lit kitchen, walls lined with dozens of cabinets, a few sinks, and a few bowls of fruits and vegetables. An older woman stood behind the island counter, whisking some foreign white mixture - likely the cinnamon butter spread for the breads. "You know, you don't need to scream your arrival each evening. You could try to act like a gentleman." Her voice wasn't witty or cold like Beverli's. Just tired.

Tito winced internally, but smiled at her. "Sorry auntie. My urchin roots are hard to dig up. Better luck raising the dead." He did straighten his back, though. She didn't like his slouch.

"Would you like some - oh, why bother asking. Cornbread will be ready in a few minutes." She dropped the wooden spoon in the bowl and opened the glass door to the charcoal oven. "Oh, looks ready now actually," she corrected, grabbing a dense cotton mitt and pulling the heavy iron tray from the furnace. A thick, rich smell of fresh cornbread slowly enveloped the room, making Tito's mouth water profusely and lose sight of everything but the cornbread. "Get my daughter, would you?"

Tito cupped his hands around his mouth and opened to shout Rummi's name, but a sharp glance from his mothers old friend convinced him otherwise. Last time he'd done so, he'd gone hungry without honey bread. He wouldn't make the same mistake. He instead nodded and walked briskly down the hall, towards the main entry hall. Beverli had gone elsewhere, so he quickly strode up the stairs two at a time - like the man he was - and turned a corner, arriving at a thick wooden door. A soft voice and a harp could be heard from inside, so Tito knocked.

A man opened the door, who Tito recognized as Buli, Rummi's vocal instructor, probably the one playing the harp. The tall man of graying hairs gave him a dry expression. There was not much the man was fond of, and Tito definitely did not fall under that category.

"Cornbread for my cousin," Tito announced, looking past the man at a girl sitting in a chair behind. The girl was a taller girl, almost as tall as Tito, but that's where the similarities ended. She had flowing pale golden hair, bright red eyes, and a fierce determination as she focused on the sheets of music in front of her. She wore a silky white and red dress, but wore no shoes. She was blessed with more curves than most, certainly from her mom.

She didn't even look up at Tito as she said her name. "Tell mother ten minutes. And I'm not your cousin, Tito."

Tito shrugged. "Hardly matters. I'll let her know, but i can't promise i won't eat all the corn bread." He'd done it once before, mostly out of spite.

She looked at him dead in the eyes, her eyes piercing him. He stared back, smiling slightly and unflinching. He could see her weighing the options in her mind. More studying, or cornbread?

Tito knew the correct answer of course, but it took her far longer than it should have to come to the same. "Fine." She curtseyed to Buli, who nodded back. "Only because it's cornbread."

"You're certifiably insane," he said, commending himself on his big word choice. "Studying should never come before a good meal."

Rummi grinned. "How do you think those meals are provided, boy? Money acquired by studying."

"And how do you think people survive long enough to study?" He gave her a satisfactory leer. "Plus, don't call me boy. I'm like three days younger than you."

"Physically maybe. Not sure you could outwit a snail with a hernia."

Tito scoffed with mock offense, making the young lady laugh. "I'll have you know I remembered to wash both my hair and my teeth this morning."

The two laughed as they walked into the kitchen. They really were like cousins, Tito thought. Sure, she was beautiful, but also far out of his league. Plus, they'd spent the last four years living together. If anything they were more like siblings.

Lucienne had already laid out a few plates along the island, above the appropriate seats. Tito took his seat at the edge, next to Rummi. Two other stools were left open. Dori would be coming home soon, and Ton... well, he probably wouldn't.

Tito brushed his thoughts aside and looked down at the rich, crumbly cornbread, with melting creamy butter spread on top. He only barely remembered his manners before digging in, placing a cotton napkin on his lap and allowing Rummi to take her first bite before he dug in, barely restraining himself in cutting a small piece of the cake.

He gently placed the cornbread in his mouth, the bread melting in his mouth as saliva rushed out to greet the sweet pastry. A sweet bliss filled his heart, as it always did. He could never get used to this amazing cake. He nearly melted off his stool himself. "Hallelujah."

In just a few short minutes, Tito had finished the pastry. He quickly stood up and bowed to Lucienne, one of the rare occasions where he bowed as deep as was expected of a servant. "Thank you for blessing my life with this masterpiece, Lady Lucienne."

Lucienne rolled her eyes but smiled at him. "It's just cornbread, Tito. Now wash the dishes before i regret taking you in."