Sins of the Sacred Veil Ch. 03 - Teaser (Patreon)

The music room smelled faintly of beeswax, old felt, and the ghosts of symphonies long faded. Dust floated in lazy spirals as Sister Alessia Romano crouched beside the open piano casing, her curls pulled back with a silk ribbon she must’ve stolen from the sewing drawer. Nia stood nearby, sleeves rolled to her elbows, fingers hovering just above the ivory keys.

“Go ahead,” Alessia said, her voice low, rich, and edged with that Roman lilt. “Play middle C again.”

Nia pressed the key, and a slightly flat note rang out, wavering like a breath caught in the throat.

“It’s like tuning an old lover’s sigh. Temperamental and always half a breath out of step.” Alessia grimaced as she twisted the pin slightly. “Try it now.”

The note rang clearer.

“Better,” Nia murmured. “But the dampers still buzz a little on the low end. And this G key—” she tapped it gently “—feels like it’s been stepped on by a horse.”

“You’ve a good ear,” Alessia said with a laugh that was more exhale than sound. “Most girls here wouldn’t know a flat fifth from a cracked cup.”

“I took piano for twelve years,” Nia replied softly. “Well, piano, violin… and voice, when I could get away with it.”

She played a slow arpeggio, which on a properly tuned piano would have been flowing and harmonious. It sounded less like something that sparkled and more like someone stepping on cracked porcelain. The piano shuddered through the higher registers as if the notes were too thin to stand as Nia finished. Alessia sighed as she rose, wiping her hands on a linen cloth.

“Schiedmayer, late 1890s,” she said, patting the wood affectionately. “Made in Stuttgart before the world fell apart the first time. You see the problem, yes?”

“Yeah,” Nia nodded. “The strings… some are original, but they’re corroding. If they break, we won’t find replacements easily.”

“Exactly. Schiedmayer stopped piano production decades ago. The newer strings don’t match the tonal weight of these old ghosts,” Alessia sighed as she leaned on the piano, her tone turning wistful. “She’s a stubborn old girl, but she’s mine. We’ve made music together for years, and I won’t let them throw her out just because she’s outlived the budget.”

There was something fiercely protective in the way she said it, like the piano was a sister of her own flesh. Nia glanced sideways at her and smiled, sighing as though she knew what she was going through. In some ways, she did, as there had been a ratty old violin she once owned that she had been trying to restore… but was forced to leave it behind when she came here.

“Wish I had my phone. I’ve got some people back home,” Nia mumbled to herself. “A few musicians, a tech or two, who might know someone who restores vintage instruments. Could at least ask.”

Alessia’s brows lifted. “What did you say?”

Nia blinked, hesitating. “Ummm… I said… I wish I had my phone. I’ve got a few friends who might know the people who could help.”

Alessia’s lips parted slowly… then curved into a rare smile of relief, genuine and touched with something softer than usual.

“Now that,” she said, gesturing toward Nia with a flick of the cloth, “is a rebellious idea I can get behind.”

“I wasn’t trying to rebel,” Nia said with a half-smirk. “Just… trying not to let a good instrument die.”

“Exactly,” Alessia smiled as she pressed a hand to the wood. “You don’t just toss old friends aside because they’re cracked or dusty. You tune them, clean them, and coax them back to life. And if your friends can find us these strings without bleeding the convent dry, I’ll speak to Sister Superior Agatha myself. That woman may be made of marble, but even she knows the worth of a piano in tune.”