《Fishy Harmony》 The Necklace The boy¡¯s eyes widened as he spotted the necklace. He had absolutely no idea what something like it was doing on the shore of an island like Sicily. Two golden chains in the shape of serpents formed the necklace, their mouths twisting together into a clasp. The whole thing was inlaid with jewels. Overt lavishness and opulence, but the boy could help but stare. Despite its overly flashy nature, it was captivating. His eyes dilated and his breath grew short simply looking at the wonderful thing. Somehow, it was entirely undamaged and unblemished from what was undoubtedly a long journey drifting ashore from wherever it came from. God forged, he thought. It was beautiful. He ran at the necklace. As he sprinted onto the beach, he brought up his hands to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight glaring off of the waves. The worn bottoms of sandals rubbed uncomfortably against his feet as he ran. He would have to replace them soon, he figured. The boy reached the necklace and gingerly picked it up with reverence. It almost felt like he shouldn¡¯t have been even laying eyes on it, much less touching it. Nevertheless, he did. Despite the heat of the sand underfoot and the sweltering temperature, the necklace was cool to the touch. And the minute the boy held the necklace, he felt an overwhelming desire to put it on. He did so, wrapping the snake-necklace around his neck and fastening the clasp. The cool gold necklace settled around his neck, and undulating warmth cascaded down from the golden snakes, washing over his entire body. Clean and dirty at the same time, he thought. It was a strange sensation, but strangely welcoming. The boy sat down on the sand, enjoying the warmth of the necklace for a while. His thoughts were of beauty, life, and nothing at all. Blissful daydreams. ¡°Garum!¡± The boy was shocked out of his pleasant daydreaming by a shout, ¡°The hell are you doing just lying there on the sand?¡± Garum, the boy, sat up straight, his head swivelling back and forth in search of the voice. The serpentine chains of his necklace sliding smoothly across his skin as he moved. ¡°Over here, idiot!¡± Garum felt a light slap to the back of his head. Looking behind him, his vision was filled with tanned skin, sloppy black hair, sparkling mischievous eyes, and a grin far too wide. ¡°Hadrian,¡± Garum said, his quiet voice in stark contrast to the loudness of the other boy¡¯s, ¡°Hello.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Oh man, you won¡¯t believe what happened back in the city!¡± The other boy, Hadrian, began, ¡°So I was just walking down the street, and there was this horse, right? Now, I swear it wasn¡¯t my fault, but¡­¡± Garum hummed and did a sort of absent listening with Hadrian. That sort of middle ground between actually listening and distracted thinking and daydreaming. Garum had perfected the art over the years, having been subject to Hadrian¡¯s excited rambles for far too long. It was Hadrian that had given him the nickname ¡®Garum.¡¯ Garum, as most people knew it, was actually a sort of fermented fish sauce. He wasn¡¯t exactly certain how the nickname came about; he didn¡¯t even like Garum that much. It was a bit too salty for his palate. He found the production process rather repulsive as well. But the nickname had stuck for some strange reason, and Garum had learned to bear with it, even coming to like it. It was better than his given name, that was for certain. Volesus Livius Regulus was a mouthful, as most Roman names tended to be. It didn¡¯t help that very few people in his hometown, Messina, were of Roman origin. Despite the Italian peninsula only being a tiny distance away, just across a narrow strait, Sicily was mostly under Carthigian control, and Messina was a Greek settlement anyway. With his long and clearly foreign name, he was grateful, even if he would never admit it, for Hadrian having given him a shorter and more natural-sounding nickname to fit in with. Even if it was a Latin bastardisation of the original Greek, it was still far better than Volesus Livius Regulus. ¡°... and that¡¯s pretty much how I got that date! And you¡¯re helping me prep for tomorrow, by the way,¡± Hadrian concluded proudly with a flourish of his hands and a widening grin. ¡°Interesting,¡± Garum said, playing absently with the hem of his tunic. He had tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear whatever activity Hadrian had planned. He always seemed to have something to do, and Garum was usually dragged along. Hadrian pulled on his arm, ¡°Come on, Garum! We¡¯re going to the market! Gonna buy some new clothes for tomorrow¡¯s date.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Garum absently replied, allowing himself to be pulled along with Hadrian. He figured that the market wouldn¡¯t be so bad to go to, even if Hadrian would be constantly sidetracked. He needed a scarf or something, he thought as he pulled his tunic a bit closer to his neck. He felt a bit nervous with the new gold necklace around his neck. Thieves would no doubt be attracted to its golden gleam, even if it was rather small. He felt uncomfortably exposed with the necklace out in the open as it was, so some sort of neck accessory to cover the necklace was something that he would prioritise. He was certain that there would be something at the market. Although a scarf may look out of place in the Sicilian summer heat, he thought as the walls of the city slowly drifted into his and Hadrian¡¯s view. It would probably be fine. There were stranger things that people wore anyway, and soldiers wore little neckerchiefs, focales, to prevent armour chafing on their necks anyway. It wouldn¡¯t be too out of place, and no one would care anyway. Garums¡¯ ears were filled with the buzzing quality of Hadrian¡¯s speaking. The other boy talked, but Garum hardly listened, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of the necklace and what to do with it. Perhaps he would get a red scarf, to go with his white tunic. Or maybe something a little more subtle, a tan neckcloth. He¡¯d find something there. The Market The marketplace in Messina was crowded, as always. The faint smell of the salty sea carried under the exotic tang of people and goods in the air, a reminder of Messina¡¯s proximity to the sea. ¡°Hey!¡± Hadrian elbowed Garum, pointing out to the harbour at a particularly large ship docked, ¡°Carthaginian trade ship.¡± Indeed it was. It was easily the largest ship in the entire harbour, and a variety of goods were being unloaded off of it. Its size was hardly a surprise. Carthage was arguably the biggest power in the Mediterranean, and indubitably the largest shipping empire. Superior naval technology and navigational skills had made certain of that. ¡°We should go check it out. Probably has loads of cool stuff,¡± Hadrian grinned and began pulling Garum in the direction of the ship. Garum eyed Hadrian and the ship with a raised eyebrow, ¡°The stuff on that ship probably costs more than everything on Sicily combined. There¡¯s no way you¡¯ll be able to afford anything.¡± While a slight exaggeration, the claim wasn¡¯t entirely unfounded. Carthaginian dye alone, made from what was essentially lots and lots of snail goo, fetched nearly twice its weight in silver. Other goods, glassware, pottery and whatnot, while not quite as expensive, still were rather pricey. Hadrian waved a hand, ¡°We¡¯ll just take a look. No harm in just looking.¡± ¡°Hm,¡± Garum grunted a reluctant affirmative. As they walked, all sorts of sights assaulted the senses. Exotic fruits and spices filled the market with an air with a sort of tangy natural perfume. Garum¡¯s nose prickled with the peppery smell of herbs as they passed by a stall with some particularly fragrant spices. The strumming of a lute player caught Garum¡¯s attention the next instant. A fun, upbeat melody plucked its way out of the strings, stretched over a tortoise shell, guided by the musician¡¯s deft fingers and their swift movements. A jaunty movement revealed itself from the corner of Garum¡¯s eye. Turning to his right, he saw a troupe of dancing boys, their arms waving wildly and feet pattering in practised unison in practised unison upon a colourful carpet. A bizarre show of a snake-charmer, claiming to be from the far east, took place on the other side of the street. A dozen cobras swung their heads side to side to the rhythm of the man¡¯s music, the sounds emerging from a bulbous-looking foreign instrument. Dozens of other strange and lovely things lined both sides of the streets, along with all of the stalls and all of the vendors selling all manner of things. In short: it was quite a lot. The number of things happening in the marketplace never ceased to amaze Garum, no matter how many times he frequented the area. But it simultaneously discomforted him. The rowdy, energetic place was at odds with his temperament.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°How¡¯s this look?¡± Garum turned away from the street performer that he had been watching, an odd snake charmer claiming to be from the far east, to look at Hadrian. The boy had put on a brimless conical hat, dull white in colour, having snatched it off the rack of an accessory salesman to try on. He grinned, tipping the hat, a pileus, in Garum¡¯s direction. ¡°Stupid,¡± Garum said in response to Hadrian¡¯s query, ¡°You look stupid.¡± Hadrian laughed and threw the hat back onto the salesman¡¯s rack, having expected a dry comment from Garum after knowing him from childhood, ¡°Suppose I¡¯m not particularly suited for hats. They¡¯d obscure my beautiful hair anyway.¡± Garum cast a sorry look at the salesman, who was slightly irritated at having lost a customer. As he did, he eyed the stall¡¯s wares, a bright red piece of cloth catching his eye. A neckerchief, a focale. Just what he was looking for. ¡°How much for this?¡± He asked the man, pointing to the scarlet scarf. ¡°One drachma,¡± He replied. Garum winced at the price and began bargaining for a better price, ¡°I¡¯ll give you a diobol for it.¡± The salesman scowled tugging slightly on his dark beard, ¡°Are you insane? Five obols at the least.¡± Six obols to a drachma. A single obol¡¯s worth of reduction, to a price of five, was not an acceptable price to Garum. ¡°Three,¡± Garum held up his fingers to illustrate, ¡°A triobol.¡± ¡°Four obols,¡± The shopkeep said, a warning tone lying in his voice and a light glare in his dark eyes, ¡°Final offer, you scumbag.¡± It was acceptable, but not optimal, Garum thought, ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± He reluctantly tossed the appropriate sum of money to the shopkeep, who caught the coins with practised ease. Garum snatched his scarf off of the stall¡¯s counter, hurriedly tying it around his neck in a simple knot. Garum let out a breath in relief as he felt the scarlet fabric settle around his neck. With the necklace properly hidden, he felt far more at ease. There was a slightly uncomfortable heat around his neck already, a result of the Sicilian summer, but it wasn¡¯t unbearable. Especially as the necklace¡¯s gold was still unnaturally cool around his neck. ¡°A strange clothing choice,¡± Hadrian teased as they walked away from the stall, ¡°Is that what¡¯s in fashion these days?¡± ¡°Oh, absolutely,¡± Garum said, ¡°In fact--¡± Garum was interrupted as he spoke by a large, gruff-looking man bumping roughly into him. The was part of a larger group of similarly crusty figures. Their clothing was dirty and torn, they wore mismatched bits of armour, and smelled faintly of rust. ¡°Watch it!¡± The rough man snapped at Garum, glaring at him. The man¡¯s voice was rough and red. The necklace shifted uncomfortably from under Garum¡¯s new scarf. Hadrian shuffled forward quickly, pulling Garum along with him, away from the men with a touch of panic in his step. ¡°Who were those guys?¡± Garum whispered to him, looking over his shoulder to see the man that he had bumped into staring after him. ¡°The Mamertimes,¡± Hadrian answered, ¡°Their group came here to Messina a few months ago, moved in near my house. They¡¯re a whole lot of trouble, I tell you.¡± ¡°They certainly look like it,¡± Garum muttered. Hadrian only nodded in agreement.