Night had settled in, but the Hollow Cadenza Tavern stayed just as warm and lively as ever.
Laughter flowed as freely as the emberwine. Tankards clinked, enchanted lutes played in the background, and the air was thick with post-rehearsal energy. Around a carved mahogany table, the core members of the Phantom Concerto gathered—thirty of them, a once-misfit group now bound by music and purpose.
Charles leaned back in his chair, swirling his untouched drink and glancing slowly from face to face as he took in the lively conversation around him.
Then he asked, casual as ever, "This tavern seems sentimental to you guys?"
The words drew a brief but telling pause.
"Oh, definitely," said Soraya, the soulcord violist, eyes gleaming.
"All our weirdest nights happened here. First fights, first crushes, breakthroughs... and some truly awful menu regrets."
"First everything," Raenor nodded.
"Met my duet partner here. We both wanted the same girl, ended up arguing polyrhythms—now we're roommates."
"Unofficial headquarters," Luther murmured. "Scouted some current members right here—half-drunk, off-key, brilliant."
Charles chuckled.
He leaned in across the table, lowering his voice and arching an eyebrow mischievously.
"How about we buy it as my first real estate gift to the Phantom Concerto?"
The entire table broke into laughter.
"You're joking," Soraya wheezed.
"No way," someone added. "You can't just buy a tavern."
"Watch him," Wendy muttered, not looking up.
Charles glanced toward her with a smirk. "SIGMA?"
[Already compiling financials, structural records, magical registry, and employee contracts,]" came SIGMA's voice in his mind.
[Owner: Vethan Marris. Ex-bard. Level 3 charm resistance, Unity Realm Rank 2. Property rights unencumbered. Taxes unpaid for three quarters.]
Charles's lips curled.
"Wendy."
She met his gaze directly, a small, knowing smile already forming.
"On it," she said with a grin.
Geo stood up beside her, brushed back his wind-tousled curls with one hand, and cracked his knuckles with the other while flashing a confident grin. "I'll charm the horses if the guy's too slow."
"No need," Charles murmured, rising from his seat. "Bring the owner. Now."
Wendy nodded firmly, and Geo winked at the group. The two slipped out of the tavern, weaving through patrons and disappearing as quietly as shadows.
Moments later, a guard burst from the side entrance, nearly tripping over his own boots as he raced toward the back alleys of Velmora's residential quarter.
The rest of the ensemble remained half-laughing, half-confused.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the tavern doors creaked open.
In stepped a burly man with iron-gray hair and the kind of shoulders that remembered swinging swords more than pulling ales.
He wore an apron dusted with spice and soot, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion as he scanned the room. Then he noticed Charles Ziglar sitting casually at a table with prodigies and saw the silver-carved crest of House Ziglar on the black obsidian carriage outside.
His jaw clenched. But he didn't flee.
Charles stood and extended his arm to his right, gesturing for the group to follow.
"Luther. Wendy. Diana. Geo. Micah. Danica. With me."
They ascended the stairs to a private lounge on the second floor, away from the music and mead. The door closed behind them with a muted thump.
The Hollow Cadenza's private lounge smelled of aged cherrywood and secrets. A single chandelier glowed dimly above the table where a crystal decanter waited between two empty glasses.
The tavernmaster, Vethan Marris, crossed his arms over his chest, standing his ground near the decanter but still refusing to sit down.
"You don't look like a buyer," he said, voice hoarse from decades of shouting over rogue ballads and bar fights. "Too clean. Too… expensive."
Charles didn't remove the illusion hiding his iridescent blue hair under a dignified silver tone.
"And yet," he said smoothly, "here I am. Clean, expensive, and ready to buy your secrets."
Vethan's brow twitched. "You mean my tavern."
Charles gave a slight shrug. "Same thing."
The old bard scoffed and sat. "You know how many nobles have tried to buy this place? Some with threats. One even sent his mistress with poisoned lips."
"Let me guess," Diana quipped. "You buried her out back?"
"I don't waste good earth," Vethan snorted.
Charles set a crystalline cube on the table, glowing with the unmistakable Stellar Bank sigil and layered enchantments humming softly.
"Two-point-five million gold coins," Charles said casually. "Full buyout. I'll keep your staff. Maintain the base aesthetic. Upgrade the food and drinks. And I want all the books. Yes, even the ones you think are too well hidden."
Vethan eyed the cube, but his fingers didn't move.
Luther, for once, didn't speak. He just stared at the young noble standing opposite a man twice his age and just as dangerous in his own way.
"You researched me."
"I research everything I intend to own," Charles replied.
"You'll ruin it," Vethan muttered. "This place breathes because it's not a noble's toy."
Charles's eyes grew a little darker, but his charm stayed the same.
"I'm not most nobles."
He tapped his ring. A golden contract scroll unfurled in midair. Its seals are glowing with arcane legal bindings from the Magisterium of Velmora.
"The contract's soulbound. Sign and gold transfers. I get ownership, expansion rights, and vault access. You get fortune and quiet retirement."
Vethan didn't answer immediately. He reached for the decanter, poured two glasses of emberwine, and slid one across the table to Charles.
"And if I say no?"
Charles leaned forward, voice velvet and blade.
"Then I'll open the Second Cadenza across the street. It'll be cleaner, bigger, and have better paid staff, with performances supported by my own orchestra. In two months, you'll be selling me the ashes."
A long silence.
Vethan's eye twitched. Then he let out a low chuckle, picked up the quill, and signed.
The scroll, burned into golden runes, disappeared. The cube dissolved in a flash of symbols as the gold transferred, and the ownership was sealed.
For a heartbeat, a bright sigil floated in the air:
Hollow Cadenza Tavern is owned by C.Z. Enterprises and Lord Charlemagne Ziglar.
Charles finally drank some wine. "I'll make small changes. Keep the soul intact."
Vethan muttered, "You better," and leaned back as if he had just sold the last part of his identity. "Because if this turns into a fancy noble ballroom with toilet seats that look like harps..."
"Relax," Charles said with a laugh. "This tavern will be more than just a base. It'll be a staging ground. A sanctum. A stage for revolution... played in minor key. You will have a VIP guest card too."
The room fell quiet.
Then Micah clapped softly. "I can't decide if I want to kiss you or fear you."
"Why not both?" Danica murmured with a wink.
Geo raised his hands. "Can we just agree we now have the coolest boss in Velmora?"
"Correction," Charles said, rising with his usual commanding ease. "You now have the most ambitious one."
He turned to Luther.
"Welcome home, Maestro. Let's see what kind of symphonies we can score into this city's bones."
Phantom Roots and Revolutionary Scores
When Charles came down the stairs, the tavern was alive with music, laughter, and celebration. News spread quickly, especially with Wendy whispering to the right people and Geo adding his own flair, the kind only a wind-imbued bard could manage.
"Oi, is it true?!"
"Did he buy it?"
"The whole tavern?!"
Luther approached first, face torn between disbelief and a strange, almost reverent pride.
"You weren't bluffing…"
Charles gave him a side glance. "Have I ever bluffed about anything important?"
Luther blinked. "...Yes."
Charles grinned. "Exactly. And that's why it works."
He stepped atop the hearthstone platform near the bar, once a makeshift stage for drunken folk tunes, now a proper dais for the Phantom Concerto's new maestro of madness.
He raised a hand. The noise stilled.
"Ladies, gentlemen, virtuosos, and spiritual masochists, Congratulations! You now have your first official property."
A round of cheers and gasps burst from the group.
Someone threw a mug into the air, and it missed the ceiling beam by an inch. Geo caught it before it could break with a gust of wind and set it spinning like a top on the table.
"Hollow Cadenza is still your spot, but it's more now. Phantom Concerto's base, hideout, or maybe a soup kitchen if the broth gets better."
"This is the first time I've seen nobles and drunk drummers share a property title," Raenor whispered to Soraya.
Soraya said back, "This is the first time I've ever believed in hope."
"The upper lounge: secure command room. Resonance hub with wards and glyphs. No more selling music scrolls to cultists."
"Looking at you, Theo," someone muttered.
"I was drunk!" Theo shouted defensively. "And I thought it was a fashion scroll!"
Laughter broke out again.
Charles let it roll, then clapped once.
"The kitchen's getting an upgrade. We'll have food focused on nutrition for resonance cultivators, with dishes that help your lungs, dantian, and inner balance. No more soulcore damage from deep-fried mana shrimp. You're artists, not walking inflamed gallbladders or fatty livers."
Diana raised her glass. "Can I design the potion brews for the menu?"
"Done," Charles nodded. "Geo, you'll help with the distillery enchantments. I want resonance-compatible spirits with buffs. Elixirs with a high note."
"Already drafting 'Liquid Allegro,'" Geo said smugly.
"Brilliant," Charles said. "I expect everyone to drink responsibly. Unless you're performing. Then I expect chaos, beauty, and scandal. In that order."
Another round of cheers.
He motioned toward the tavern walls. "We'll also be acquiring the adjacent lots. SIGMA is finalizing the purchase contracts now. We're expanding this place to the side and downward. Expect rehearsal chambers, spirit-sound vaults, meditation lounges, enchanted storage, and a hidden passage or two."
A short, stunned silence.
Then Luther croaked, "How big is your budget?"
Charles turned to him, raising a brow.
"Luther, I handed you five million gold coins in a ring two hours ago, and no one's even cried yet."
"…That's fair."
Charles smirked. "And that's only one tavern project."
He stepped down from the hearthstone platform and looked each of them in the eye: musicians, misfits, dreamers, now all soldiers of sound.
"We are Resonant Virtuosos. We wield music like the old gods once wielded thunder. We change people with every note. We alter fates with crescendos. We tear empires open with symphonies."
A beat passed.
Then Charles clapped his hands again.
"Now. Someone tell me where the hell the menu is, because I'm starving and I swear if the stew tastes like overcooked regret again, I'm having this place exorcised."
Laughter roared.
Diana leaned toward Wendy. "You think he's serious about the stew?"
Wendy deadpanned, "He once threw a wine goblet off a balcony because it had a two-second aftertaste of disappointment."
Meanwhile, Luther was spacing out, trying to absorb everything that had happened today.
"It's just the beginning," Charles said, appearing beside him with two glasses of celestial cider.
He handed one to Luther.
"To your future stage, Maestro."
Luther swallowed hard.
"To ours, my Lord."
They clinked glasses.
And throughout the Hollow Cadenza, the tavern of drunken dreams now reborn as a citadel of revolution, hope wasn't just served.
It was scored into the walls.