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WIP!
An old accordion rests in a glass display case on the wall. Soeverein looks upon it fondly, leaning forward in his cushy executive chair and resting his chin upon his folded hands. I was not always the wealthy man I am today. He admits. In fact, my beginnings were quite humble. You see, when I was a boy I knew of only one thing...
Money. His world had revolved around that beautiful and evil currency since his first breath. There seemed to be so much of it passing through the hands of the upper class, but down in the slums there was never enough. Never enough to feed the starving mouths of his nine brothers and sister, never enough for medical bills or doctors appointments, never enough to sustain the large clan of naga that Soeverein called his family. But they made due with what they had, living in a cramped two room apartment at night and finding any work they could during the day.
His father worked in a factory all his life, enduring harsh conditions and long hours to bring home the small pay check at the end of the week to pay the rent and keep the stove burning. His mother stayed home with his younger siblings and kept the tiny space as clean as possible. But they were happy with what they had, the family they always dreamed of. And Soeverein would always remember the nights when he would stay up with his mother waiting for his father to come home, long after his siblings had fallen asleep. His father would greet them with a warm, tired smile before settling down in the worn down chair in the corner of the room. He would then put Soeverein on his lap and teach to him the same thing his father had taught him when he was a boy- to play the accordion.
Those were indeed the best memories of his childhood. But as happy as this family was, and as much as he would hate to admit it, it was Soeverein who could not be content with their way of life, sick of barely being able to make ends meet week after week. So, when he was sure he wouldn't be missed, he would sneak away from the apartment with his father's accordion in hand and make his way to main street where he would play in hopes of collecting a few extra coins for his pockets.
Ah, but as long as you're leaving, why not visit my children?
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