This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #916 - Musical Instruments
It's set in my homebrew D&D world - enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
The midday sun blazing hot overhead wasn't what made Miragan sweat as he rang the bell at the compound gate. It was fear. Eye-watering, bowel-loosening fear.
Behind this drab, unassuming wall and plain double gates was the compound of the most feared man in Kelos. Even more dreaded, cruel and capricious than Lord High Merchant Karvesan, the city's effective ruler.
This was one of the residences of Al'Hubat Al Avassar. Known as "Fat Albert", but not to his face. His legendary wealth derived from a lifetime of controlling the distribution and sale of illicit drugs all across the western Sarassid Lands and beyond, as well as a wide variety of other lucrative criminal enterprises. His ruthlessness, cruelty, and pervasive network of informants were as legendary as his wealth, and it was suspected that he had mutually beneficial deals set up with both governments and other criminal networks across the known world.
That gate opened, and Miragan found himself starting at a pair of muscular black thighs. Not black as in sun-tanned, but black-black like coal. His gaze lifted slowly until he found himself starting up into the scowling face of a giant. A fire giant, to be precise. Jet black skin and flame-orange hair.
"You're late," the giant said brusquely.
Miragan shook his head. "The card said high noon, Sir."
"Yes, it's noon. It will take ten minutes to get to The Master. Longer if you have to tow...that, whatever it is. I will carry it."
The that was a four-wheeled cart sat behind Miragan, a slim rope in his hand he could use to pull it along. The cart held a box about five feet tall, tied on with copious amounts of cord.
"I'm sorry but I must insist, I will pull it. If you carry it, you might damage it, and your master would be very unhappy with both of us."
The giant nodded sharply, every move of his body conveying suppressed rage as if that was his natural state of existence. Then he set off across the courtyard, with Miragan struggling to keep up behind him.
From the courtyard they passed into the main house, and through a network of winding corridors, small chambers, and ramps and stairs both up and down. Miragan realised that there were more down than up, and that the house was just cover for a monstrously complex labyrinth. He was even sure he heard occasional quiet grinding sounds as walls re-positioned themselves.
Eventually, they came to a halt before a pair of large undecorated iron-bound doors. An unknown sense told Miragan that they were deep underground. The giant banged on the doors in a complex rhythm, and then opened them.
They were in Al'Hubat's private audience chamber. It was a high-ceilinged room, fairly large, hung with priceless tapestries on the walls, unique rugs on the floor, and with a pair of silver chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The candles they held were purely decorative; each was clearly enchanted to give out light.
There were a dozen or more other people in the room, a mix of senior officers in Al'Hubat's network, mistresses of the officers (paid or otherwise was unknown), and servants. Plus a couple more fire giant bodyguards.
At the far end of the chamber was a low dais. The man on the lounger there dominated the assembled people. After all, they were his selected followers, and they lived or died at his whim. He lived up to his name. Fat Albert was massively corpulent, rolls of fat quivering with every slight movement, looking like a pile of flesh with a bald head at it's centre, a huge green and silver silk robe hiding the bulk that flowed over the edges of the lounger.
Al'Hubat's eyes were sharp, glittering black deep-set dots as he studied Miragan. But then he smiled, and the voice that came out was high, delicate and cultured.
"So, instrument-maker. Six months ago I gave you a chest full of Golden Wheels and instructed you to make me something unique. I asked for it in three months, and have had three more months of delays. I'm sure you've made me something incredible. After all, I can assure you that my reputation is entirely deserved."
Miragan nodded, sweating even more than before. "I apologise for the delay, Sir. I was waiting for certain rare components to become available."
With a shaking hand, he loosened the cords holding the large box onto the cart. Carefully, he slid it off and opened it.
There was a ripple of murmured appreciation around the room. Even the most hardened crime lord recognised that they were looking at something unique and beautiful, more a work of art than a musical instrument.
It was nearly five feet tall, a complex harp ornately carved from something that looked like black ivory, with a profusion of strings.
Al'Hubat raised an appreciative eyebrow. "Tell me about it. It looks like a harp, but I can see it's more than that."
"Yes Sir. It's a thing of my own devising. The only one in the world. I call it a harphorn. It combines the properties of a harp with those of a horn. The material is what I was waiting for; all of the parts come from the dreaded, and now very recently deceased, black draqon Nitrovour Acidmelt. The frame and soundboard are from her black bones, one of her claws forms the shoulder and neck, and my own invention is the horn, which is indeed carved from one of her horns."
The fat man beckoned Miragan to bring the instrument over, and then had to wave back his over-protective bodyguards as they started forward.
With the harphorn moved onto the dais, Al'Hubat started to play. This was a surprise for Miragan, he'd assumed he was making the thing just as a trophy, a piece of artwork to decorate the house as a talking point. He was glad he'd put all that effort into making it sound as good as it looked.
As the fat criminal moved his hands over the strings, two amazing things happened.
The first was that this ungainly and terrifying crook turned out to have the most delicate touch, producing music which would have been beautiful, complex and subtle even on a traditional harp. Worthy of a world-class musician.
But the second was what happened to those sounds. The horn picked them up, transformed them and turned them into something altogether different. The sound of the strings was still there, but the horn mirrored them, creating a haunting, unearthly polyphonal effect, Acting just as an additional source of resonance rather than being blown, it lacked the harshness usually associated with horns, and added a depth of tone that even the best harp couldn't produce.
After a few minutes, Al'Hubat looked up, tears in his eyes.
"Miragan, you've bought me more pleasure than I thought possible. This will be no ornament, I can see myself playing it often. You truly are a genius, and you are now the one man in the whole world who will be able to say with honesty that you'll never need to fear Fat Albert."
Just for amusement value, here's the description I wrote for Fat Albert when he was first introduced as an NPC the players in a D&D game needed to interact with...
"The biggest zwilnik in town. He can get gignak of all kinds, even Avassari Green, as well as any other narcotic you can imagine. From Avassar originally, he is a very large, bald, sweaty gentleman (actually a eunuch). As a high level bard, he is quite well equipped to protect himself, but tends to rely on a combination of charm (both charisma and spell-based), intimidation, and some very big and scary Fire Giant bodyguards."