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“Yes, we’ve recently added a new violinist, some of our performances need the warm and brisk tone of an acoustic. What say you?”

“As if I have a choice,” staring Celina shadowed by her dream, “-fine. I don’t mind. I’m quite busy, I’ll probably not practice as much in the orchestra. If my terms are accepted, then I don’t see a reason to refuse.”

“Great.” Random and out of character, an offer to play music at the side of renowned musicians waltz into his lap. There were some causes for concern, practice time, when and where the performances would happen, who were the members. Trifling matters need be put in the back, though he resolute to aid Celina’s new start. A visit to the lobby finalized her enrollment. Bypassing the interview and tedious exams, the girl found herself in a strict and sought-after Pianist’s hands.

“You’re Celina, sorry I didn’t present myself earlier,” stood outside the lobby, “-my name’s Rocher Cartney, pianist, and your private instructor.”

‘They didn’t lie about it being expensive,’ stepping onto the marble floor sent shivers, ‘-why are people staring?’ news went around the campus. ‘-What In the world is wrong with them?’

“Igna, Igna,” hailed Celina more or less confused, “-what did you do?”

.....

“Rocher Cartney, a very popular pianist will be the foundation of your musical knowledge. Trust in him,” said he softly, “-he’s a bit of a music snob, but the talent and skill is there, hard-working as well. Learn classical music, learn from the greats of old, and then slowly add touches of your own. Sorry if this isn’t the whole pop-idol career you wanted.”

“No, it’s not like that,” she nervously stared at the floor, “-I’m a complete novice, won’t he get angry?”

“Don’t worry,” exclaimed Rocher, “-tis better to teach from the ground up than a shaky foundation.”

“Final then,” up straight, “-you’ll be taking care of her.”

“You have my word,” said he strongly, “-for my condition,” turned westward, “-follow me.”

“Are we headed to the dorms?”

“No,” refuted he, “-we’re headed to the practice hall.” Throw a few more curved paths and brownish hue, passing a running track, came a slightly large building. A massive entrance on which had advertisement glued onto the glass.

“-Cartney, I demand to know where we are headed?”

“To my orchestra,” said he loudly, “-I handpicked the musicians, the conductor is a friend of mine, hails from Iqeavea, an exiled noble of a count’s branch family.” Many o’ ajar doors allowed a glimpse into practice room; instruments, singing, a notice-board read, *-club rooms.*

“Watch very closely,” said he to Celina, “-today will be the first lesson, to hear beautiful music, to be moved, and to see how individuals come together as one,” mildly thicker doors opened to a larger room. A few seats led to a stage onto which stood multiple people unpacking instruments. Some hurdled to speak about the composition, others tuned said instruments. The conductor, a long-packed man bearing a ridged forehead, long and sharp nose, parched lips, greyish eyes, and the darkened tone of dark circles. Hair was of a dirtied blond as for the resting expression – a nightmare. Strong and unmoving leaped into thought.

“Good morning,” said he noticing Cartney.

“Maestro Nelvah, welcome back to Alphia.”

“The same to you,” they exchanged greetings, “-the world tour finished in success. The magazines sure are singing high praises.”

“High praises...” paused to pounder.

“Who might they be?”

“Igna Haggard.”

“Celina Haggard,” short and direct, attention pulled to the musicians on stage. “Cartney, if you would, please get on piano. The arrangement is a mournful piece, Daylight Struggle.”

‘He turned it into an orchestra piece?’ The duo merged as one on said stage. Minutes turned to hours, Celina watched and listened, her heart moved per the sound, from the get-go, the piano pulled her interest. The complex nature Igna criticized elevated beyond so, the tension eased and the melody allowed for a clearer picture. A satisfying sound and pleasant afternoon. A chair remained open opposite the piano, many wondered for whom it was reserved.

“Wrong,” tsked the maestro, “-the sound is muddled at this part. Cartney, something is lacking,” to which he hummed the melody, “-it needs to be sweeter, tis the point of bliss,” the stiff expression closed to one of utmost pleasure.

“There we go again,” mumbled they, “-Nelvah’s back to his former self. The eccentric conductor...”

“Let’s take a break.”

Harmony dismissed into cacophony. The conductor sure made his opinions heard loud, the subtle alterations and mistakes fired incessantly. “Quite the commotion,” remarked Igna.

“Please,” said Cartney limped over the chair, “-he’s too strict for his own good. I remember why I hated doing ensembles.”

“Suppose it our time to leave then?”

“CARTNEY!” he came as if a storm, “-why hasn’t the guitar player shown up yet?”

“He’s here,” he sloppily pointed, “-I wanted him to watch how the performance played out.” So much for the all-encompassing Cartney. The man felt as if a saint next to Nelvah – in retrospect, the nick-name of Musical Snob looked like a blessing against the maestro’s hardened remarks

“Don’t force this on me,” said he softly, “-hey, Cartney, if you hate ensembles so much, let me out of it already.”

“No,” strong and shiny, “-if I’m to look after Celina, you’d better suffer with me.”

“Don’t tell me,” they moved to a corner, “-the reason I’m here is to suffer the dictator’s assault to cover for thine arse?”

“Yes,” he smirked.

“I’m going to strangle you,” the grip tightened.

“Let go, I’m dying,” arms around the pianist’s indifferent shoulder turned into a lock, “-I-Igna... just play the music, s-stop.”

The grip eased, ‘-what’s wrong with this guy. The story and the way he acted in Alphia are different from how he is now. What’s his problem... he feels more like a child, someone who enjoys playing the piano more than anything. Is the passion really so much that he’d... I’ve agreed to play. Therefore, it should be fine. As long as she’s getting tutored, I don’t mind. Cooking is out of the picture. The magazines that covered my journey slowly forgot, the name Igna fades from the culinary scene. I wasted two years, suppose meeting other people was worthwhile. Kyle’s exploits have already out-shone me. No way Dungeon Style cooking could rival that man’s prowess. Regardless, changing the path seems better in the bigger picture. Orchestras are very expensive to put and kept as one, they’re usually called for grand occasions. Should be a worthwhile distraction.’

*Thud,* “-Mr. Nelvah, I’m here,” said a lady stumbling through the door, “-sorry for the tardiness.” Shorter black hair, nicely shaped eyes, pointy small nose rounded at the base, pink lipstick, and the attitude of a child. To Igna’s dismay, the lady was none other than Syndra Lordon. Her chubby side shrunk to slender, there was a different air about her, the childish side felt more of a playful jest than character.

“Good, my prodigy is here,” firm to elated, the two made for the stage where formal introductions were exchanged.

“Why’s she here?”

“You know her, Igna?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“She’s the maestro’s newfound prodigy, a very gifted composer and talented conductor from what I’ve heard. A diamond in the rough, her pieces have captivated many before.”

Practice resumed, the empty seat remained unfilled, a guitar soon carried onto the stage by a student. Syndra sat close to Nelvah, pen, music sheet, and firm stare onto the musicians.

‘éclair, do a check on her past activities.’

“Already done so,” said he smugly, “-Syndra Lordon, now engaged to Kyle Darker, came to pursue her career in music. Kopi’s influence over international trades is formidable. They monopolize the agricultural sales in Alphia, Kuro’s Trading Corporation made them in charge of said field. Kyle has very close ties with the Patek’s especially the heir. Some say they’re best friends. I’ve gotten this much from the Arcanum, here’s something of interest, Kyle uses his fame to boost the business. The dishes he makes only uses ingredients available in Alphia, thus, working in Hidros, people are more taken to their culture.”

‘He’s affiliated with the conglomerates. I knew that already. At least she’s back to making music.’

‘A maniac,’ thought she, ‘-Kyle is a deviant, I can’t stay by his side. He charged into the restaurant and took over mother’s heart. The added bonus of business influx to father’s profit has tied a chain around my neck. My only escape is making a name for myself; I need to become someone independent and respectable. We’re engaged, he loves me, but I don’t. I want to write music, I want to see the world, not be tied by a contract. The only way to do so is music.’

“Cartney, where’s the guitarist?”

“Over here,” said Igna, “-is a man not allowed to visit the latrine?”

“My apologies,” returned Nelvah, “-if you wish to visit the latrine next time, please do so during the break, not after.”

“I’m sorry,” refuted he taking a stand, “-the sound of gentle water flowing into the gutter is more pleasant than what I’ve heard so far.”

“Igna!” voiced Cartney, “-cut it with the provocations.”

“Regardless,” he ignored the comments, “-if your mouth is so putrid, I shudder to think of the guitar.” Laughter escaped from the musicians, comparing their sound to pissing garnered unwanted attention.

‘Damn it,’ he sighed, ‘-why didn’t he kick me out. My way of escape...’

Thus, the practice resumed. The guitar parts were subtle, warm touches to the piece, or so what Nelvah envisioned.

‘There’s no need to stand out,’ thought he, ‘-in an orchestra, everyone plays to better the other. I’ll just follow Cartney since he’s the lead.’

“Good,” they stopped, “-here’s the part where you come in,” glanced at Igna, “-let’s hear your play.”

“Fine,” indifferent to the aura, “-how about this.”

Practice ended at 13:00, it was more of an audition. Maestro Nelvah, Syndra, Celina, Cartney, and Igna stood under the same tree, “-that was a good performance,” said Nelvah.

“Cartney, Nelvah,” voiced Igna, “-it was fun, sadly, I’m afraid I cannot play in the orchestra anymore. I have duties of way greater proportion. The condition was to play, and I played, it never said to stay. Cartney, I’m sorry. I can’t see myself performing.”

“Why not?” argued Syndra, “-you played it perfectly.”

“Not the issue here,” returned he, “-as a member of the Haggard Dynasty, the responsibilities don’t allow me so. The practice required to play as a unit is time I don’t have. Do understand where I’m coming from, said spot should be to deserving one.”

“Fine,” returned Cartney, “-my condition’s been fulfilled. I get it, tis different from whence we played. The thrill I felt will never be topped. My apologies for selfishly wanting to feel the same sensation. I fooled myself into thinking the emotion could return.”

“Tis where we part ways,” said he in arms with Celina.

“If I were you, book an apartment instead of the dorms,” said Cartney, “-we’ll start tomorrow, make sure to be on time, young Celina.”

“Alright instructor.”

A whim turned mistake; the realization hit. The bigger picture was the mysterious deaths and fate of kingdoms, not the passing pleasure of playing music. The whole guitarist objective was to score repute in Alphia – to enter close circles of underhanded activities. Hence, a scan showed multiple apartments, Celina settled on one closer to the commercial district. A twenty-minute ride via the bus. The place came fully furnished. The view gave onto a concrete jungle, an above-average abode.

“This place is awesome,” she skipped inside.

“Yeah,” returned he, “-a good place to live. Celina, the new life starts now. Rosespire is a good place to grow, take full advantage of this opportunity. Four years, live, fall in love, do as you like, each action will be thy responsibility, is that understood?”

“Yes,” said she knelt onto the wooden floor.

“Next up, pocket money. I’ll send 500 Exa weekly.”

“That much?” her mouth dropped.

“Too little?”

“No, too much,” said she adamantly.

“Cost of living here is expensive, thus, 500 Exa period. Work part-time, and don’t worry about rent, I’ll handle it.”

.....

“What about being independent?”

“Surely,” he laughed, “-it’s a head start. I’ll cut the funding in one year, save up, find a part-time job, do whatever is necessary to get settled.”

Relief filled her step.

‘Now then, the real problem; how did the council end?’