《The Queen's Symphony》 Chapter 1 More than anything, Lydus wanted to ask God why the sun had to burn so brightly, on today of all days. The windows of the royal carriage that had fetched him from his apartment were thrown open to the morning bustle of Gente¡¯s main cobblestone avenue, leading to Turas¡¯ Bridge and then further north to the palace. His stomach was already feeling flighty at the thought of what awaited him there; the stench of excrement and dried fish along the roadside contributed in no small part. Remembering more from the previous night, he concluded that the wine had also done its share in creating his present state. At least the coat he had snatched in a final, panicked pass by his wardrobe this morning was one that still fit. A particularly raucous bump in the road indicated that he was now crossing the bridge. To his right, the sun rose as a great, glistening candle on the Lurent. Had he been searching for inspiration at this particular moment, perhaps Lydus would have cherished the sight more. As it was, he reached for the shutters and pulled them closed carefully. After all, it was a royal carriage, with royal shutters. Even the alleviation of this pain did not outweigh the cost of damaging gold filigree likely worth more than one of his recent commissions. The morning had begun for him as many before it had not. Specifically, it had begun in the morning proper instead of at an hour late enough to miss the screech of Old Gerta the bread seller outside his window but just early enough that he could state truthfully to anyone who inquired that he awoken before noon. Each knock at the door had seemed a cannonade and in his rush to dress himself, Lydus must have considered a half dozen possibilities of who could be calling on him today and what he must tell each of them. His landlady Brena would have her money as soon as he did. He was dreadfully sorry that he had been too inebriated to attend Hiren¡¯s premiere; of course, he would tell Hiren¡¯s father that it was the muse that had taken him that night instead of Ada. As for Ada herself, Lydus¡¯ decision about their future together must wait on the same silver as did Brena. He did his best to dress himself as if the previous night¡¯s festivities had never happened and opened the door to find that none of his nightmares had come for him. Instead, a royal courier dressed sharply in a fitted Arnossi coat and pointed shoes bid him follow to a carriage waiting down below. It almost made him wish it had been Brena. He begged a moment to prepare himself sufficiently for an audience with the king and the little man thankfully obliged. This time, Lydus was not taken by his thoughts of possibilities and chances. He knew just as fully then as if he had heard the words from King Edel¡¯s mouth the reason for his summons: a royal commission. To say that he had waited his whole life for such a thing was an understatement. If anything, he nearly believed that such was his preternatural right. He only wondered why it had to come today. Perhaps it was some divine idea of a grand joke to be played on the blessed scoundrel Lydus Bereant. One thing he did know for certain, though, and it was that the string quartet Lord Hylen had requested he compose for his daughter¡¯s wedding night would have to wait. Whether Lord Hylen¡¯s daughter would also wait for her wedding night was a question to which Lydus had already learned the answer. Now over the bridge, the road widened significantly as it entered onto the great square commemorating an old war with the Ossirians; Lydus could not recall if it was the second-most recent or the one before that. The palace gates stood opposite a towering column of winged stone angels from his spot in the carriage. A few fringed banners in royal colors still hung around the edges of the square, celebrating the end of what the crown had declared yet another victory over their southeastern enemies, though his friend Harman in Meddelburg had generously called it a stalemate. It was not Lydus¡¯ place to judge the comparative successes of military campaigns; he only hoped for another commission on the subject. After the rousing reception given to his symphony memorializing the hundredth year since the Sack of Terestin several months ago, it seemed only logical that the king would come to him for something similar with the latest glories of battle so fresh in the public mind. If there was some other purpose behind his summons this morning, it was not apparent to Lydus. The carriage stalled for a moment at a pair of sturdy wrought-iron gates as guards with muskets inspected its contents. Lydus may have appeared to them as nothing but yet another ambassador or lordling seeking after a royal boon, and so drew no special notice from the mustached soldier who passed by his open window. More importantly, the man did not seem to remember that he had chased Lydus out of a particularly rowdy inn three weeks prior. Perhaps it was the change of dress that distracted him, or else the gilt-on-blue carriage bearing him now instead of the shoulder of a dusky-haired courtesan whose name eluded him presently. He would either remember later or he would not. Once through the gates, they rounded Holentin¡¯s new fountain that Lydus had always thought hideous with its flock of gargoyles recoiling from a brilliant, golden star; a superfluous anachronism in the midst of scaffolding and stone that would eventually give way to the most modern palace in all of Corastia. Their hollow, marble eyes stared down at him through the carriage¡¯s open window as they pulled to a stop in front of two towering doors flanked by stone pillars. Lydus flashed them a rude gesture and only barely brought his hand back down before the door opened. A slender footman was there to greet him. ¡°If you would follow me,¡± he said, and Lydus did. Two more stood before the doors and pulled them open languidly, which must have taken some strength given their size. The long hall that met him on the other side had not changed significantly since his last visit, or even in the years since he came here as a boy. Aside from the subdued, youthful portrait of King Edel III of Oravia that had once hung on the opposite wall¡ªnow replaced with a more vigorous specimen of masculinity in the flamboyant Taruschkani style¡ªthe only noticeable absence on this occasion was Lydus¡¯ own father. Wherever Lord Gerard Bereant was, Lydus was sure that to hear that his eldest son had waited until his twenty-seventh year to receive a royal commission would still disappoint him. The footman led him through rooms carpeted in Madha¡¯s finest loomwork, lavished in enough goldleaf alone to win the next Ossirian war. Paintings not yet replaced by newer works depicted typical scenes of courtly leisure: absconded lovers in a field of pale lupins; a mounted party hunting a stag with far too many points on his antlers to be anything but an artist¡¯s fancy; and even the daringly sensuous portrait of a former princess, with lips parting slightly on brilliant teeth and neckline as low as it was inviting. Lydus wondered what she looked like now, assuming she still lived. He walked on. When completed, the new palace was rumored to become the most spacious in all of Corastia, flanked on either side by broad wings for housing the currently scattered nobility of Oravia. Such was the plan, at least. While the building may indeed come to fruition, Lydus doubted that even such accommodations as only the king could provide were sufficient to overcome the fierceness of superior breeding. The Arcinans had done it before Lydus was born, and only with much bloodshed, but King Lenas was now nearly ten years dead and King Edel¡­ Well, he was no Lenas. Shrewd, yes, but not as given to conquest when the ambitions of his neighbors proved lucrative enough. And as with any man who came suddenly into great wealth, he sought ways in which to lavish it upon himself and his fellows. Even on a man of such dubious character as Lydus Bereant, for which he would ever be thankful. They arrived at a high balcony on the north side of the palace, beyond which stretched a paradise of water features, labyrinthine hedges, and even woods where the king¡¯s closest friends could exert their manliest urges without the danger of actual combat. It was here that the king himself waited on Lydus, overlooking a delightful fountain in the shape of a rising swan.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Lydus,¡± the king said, his voice pleasant. ¡°So good to see you again, and in better health than our last meeting.¡± ¡°Majesty,¡± he replied, bowing deeply. Too deeply, perhaps. ¡°There is a matter I wish to discuss with you. I presume you have already deduced its subject.¡± He was confident he had, given the rapidity with which word of the previous night¡¯s premiere had likely spread through the city. Lydus would have to ask Ada to remind him what had happened, assuming she had not also forgotten it in the attendant revelry. After such a reception, it was only fitting that the king call the kingdom¡¯s leading composer¡ªand Lydus was certainly that¡ªto further the successes of his symphony on Terestin and yesterday¡¯s work in pursuit of a similarly fitting endeavor. With four years of war against the implacable East Ossirians so recently concluded, it was only logical that such would be the work the king had in mind. ¡°I have done much in my brief time as king,¡± he said, turning his eyes back to the gardens. ¡°Not all of it has been welcome, and most has been at least shocking. Religious freedom was proclaimed at Tardascha, primary education has been made compulsory for all citizens of the kingdom, and the High Messenger himself wrote to wish me a happy birthday despite me shuttering more monasteries than he can count. All this I have done not for myself, as some would believe, but for the good of the kingdom.¡± Edel let out a long breath. ¡°Only one thing I have not done: commissioned a truly magnificent work of music.¡± A sly compulsion came over Lydus then. ¡°Begging your pardon, your majesty, but what of Schaeren¡¯s Fourth Symphony? Surely, it was a masterwork; some would say insurmountable.¡± Some did. Insufferable was the word Lydus would be more apt to use in describing nearly an hour of frivolity so lacking in substance and abundant in noise that it bordered on flatulence. To hear the king agree to the detriment of Lydus¡¯ antiquarian rival would be a joy he could savor for months. The king responded with a dismissive grunt. ¡°While exquisite in its ornamentation, I found it somewhat lacking in execution. There was simply too much for the ear to properly digest. What I crave is feeling. Feeling, Lydus. Let our great nation make its mark upon the world in deeds of passion as it has in deeds of valor. That is what I told myself I would do, and I shall do it. Or rather, you shall. My greatest pleasure in this would be to merely attach my name to a work which shall not be easily forgotten.¡± ¡°Only say the word, your majesty, and my faculties are at your command.¡± ¡°It shall be a work in commemoration of something so beloved, so necessary to the joy and prosperity of this great kingdom, that I had no other choice but to select you.¡± ¡°What is it, majesty?¡± Lydus felt he might burst with anticipation. ¡°You are to compose a symphony for my wife. If you would take it, of course, and I have no reason to suspect that you would not.¡± Lydus¡¯ heart sank. ¡°My most recent compositions have been of a more martial nature, your majesty, and so I had hoped to carry on in the same idiom.¡± ¡°But this is a time of peace, of thanksgiving. Surely, there is no better way to commemorate it than with a new composition.¡± He had no use for the insipid banalities of the Taruschkani composers and their famed love songs, as overwrought as they were overplayed, nor for the tameness of Arcinan melodies which so amusingly contradicted their impulsive nature. Lydus would need to compose something entirely new. Under different circumstances, with a lesser patron or smaller style of composition, risk and newness were expected. To be trite or derivative would engender mockery at worst or at best, being gently but firmly ignored. For a symphony, however, the risk was greater in like proportion to the complexity and magnitude of the work. While failure would lead to certain oblivion, success¡ªespecially in the king¡¯s service¡ªwas the closest a composer could come to deity. The prospect did not scare him; Lydus had been training for it since before he could speak. Instead, he paused because all those intervening years made sure his knowledge of the greatness of his task. Other commissions would have to be postponed or even rejected entirely; those patrons who would not accept Lydus¡¯ apologies must then contend with the royal appetite, whose hunger for enlightenment was only matched by the depth of his coffers. Above all, Lydus reminded himself of a fundamental truth: the world can only remember so many men, and the greater share is reserved for kings and composers. Even then, the voices of every tyrant in history faded in death. It was the composer¡¯s voice, written forever on paper and in hearts, that truly lived forever. He would accept. Without time to explain all his considerations to the king, he could only offer a summary. ¡°It will have to be something new, then, majesty. I shall get to work at once.¡± ¡°Ah Lydus, I have never known you to take an easy road when a more difficult one presented itself. And I mean that in the best way possible.¡± While it may not have sounded a proper compliment, Lydus would accept it as one. The details of the composition would have to come later; only the most important question remained. But how to say it? One did not simply ask the king how much the commission would pay; that must be handled delicately. ¡°Of course, majesty, this will take priority over all my other commissions. I regret to say that even I can only accomplish so much.¡± The king caught the little smile Lydus gave him, and chuckled. ¡°Yes, I considered that. You will find that your needs will be provided for amply in order for you to focus as much of your effort as possible on the composition. Distraction breeds delay, after all.¡± The king waved over a servant bearing a letter sealed in a purple eagle signet of the House of Loresin. Lydus took it carefully, being wary not to snatch anything in the royal presence. ¡°May I?¡± he asked. ¡°Certainly,¡± the king said, and a smile crept over his face. Lydus broke the seal and perused the paper¡¯s contents, skipping over grand declarations of the king¡¯s many titles and holdings, his beneficence as a patron of the arts, and the naming of himself as chosen subject for the latest work to be written at the king¡¯s request. He nearly choked when he reached the most important line: four hundred and fifty silver Varoschkers, to be paid in monthly installments leading up to the premiere of the piece in three month¡¯s time. To be sure, it was a tight schedule, perhaps the tightest he had ever accepted for a composition of such breadth. But thinking on the promised reward, he knew that if there were a list of deeds he would not commit for four hundred and fifty Varoschkers, it was a short list indeed. ¡°Why, your majesty, that is nearly triple my yearly salary when I was court composer in Vanterburg.¡± ¡°Oh, I know. I cannot allow Lord Alrid to make me look a pauper by comparison. Now then: do you accept?¡± Lydus wanted to embrace the king in that moment, and preventing himself from doing so required all his remaining fortitude. ¡°I will, majesty, I will!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°You shall not regret it.¡± ¡°Good. I look forward to it most greatly. Now if you will excuse me, there is much work to do yet. The Eastern Ossirian ambassadors have very nearly outstayed their welcome as it is.¡± Lydus bowed again, deeper than before, as if weighed down by all the silver he had been promised. He folded the letter reverently and placed it in his pocket. The footman from before met him at the door and Lydus followed once again to the carriage that would take him home. Once there, he would need to sit down for a long while and think of what to do with more money than he had ever been paid in his life. Pleasure was certain; a crucial expenditure if there ever was one. Brena would certainly get her payment and henceforth never see Lydus¡¯ hated face again, for he knew of a recently vacated apartment with an envious view of the Lurent that would serve as an excellent studio where not even the shrill bread seller¡¯s voice could reach. Last but not least, perhaps it was time to make up his mind about Ada after all. Chapter 2 Lydus was so lost in his notes and preparations that he was hardly aware of the hour until Ada slammed the front door of their apartment. He turned to see her carrying a basket filled with some bread and fish. ¡°I cannot believe that old shrew,¡± she said, and slammed the door. Lydus¡¯ stomach growled as if in reply. ¡°The rent is all she can think of anymore. Not one word about how lovely of a day it is. Did you sleep well?¡± Ada moved to set the basket down, but Lydus was already at her side with his arms around her waist. She jumped a little in surprise. ¡°Well enough, my dear. And you will not believe who I met today.¡± He snuck a kiss on her cheek. ¡°No?¡± Ada replied, and gave him one back. ¡°Tell me.¡± ¡°Oh, just another admirer calling to congratulate me on my latest premiere.¡± ¡°That is to be expected. Do I know him? Or was it a her? And if so, I hope for your sake that she is especially beautiful.¡± ¡°Him.¡± ¡°Really? Lord Alrid has offered you your old position back.¡± Lydus laughed. Not after the incident with the oboe, he thought. ¡°I suppose I could give you one more hint. You know of him more than you know him; his face is practically inescapable.¡± Reddened lips twisted in a smirk. ¡°Lord Rys, recently returned from the war. He wishes you to memorialize his victory in song.¡± Lydus kissed her again. ¡°Very close! More ubiquitous still.¡± Ada frowned in concentration and went in for a kiss on Lydus, but he pushed her back playfully. ¡°Ah! Not until you guess correctly.¡± ¡°A man more well-known than Lord Alrid and Lord Rys, but only someone I know of¡­ Who, indeed?¡± A sudden laugh of realization came over her and she moved to speak but suppressed it. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± Lydus prompted. ¡°Is it¡­ It is.¡± Ada did not need to speak the name for Lydus to know she had discovered it; he only nodded. Ever the practical one, his beloved¡¯s next question did not surprise him in the least. Their lips met once more in celebration of her quick reasoning and his success. Their success. ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Now this you will not believe.¡± Ada¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Come closer.¡± She moved one step toward him, then two. ¡°Closer.¡± By now, she was nearly a hair¡¯s breadth from the end of his nose. When he whispered the amount in her ear, the scream that escaped her was halfway between ecstatic joy and as if she was being accosted by bandits. For a moment, Lydus feared that she may have also crushed one of his ribs in her embrace. His coat that still fit was halfway unbuttoned when a knock came at the door; the second-most occurrence so inopportunely timed and sure to be the less pleasing. Ada looked first to his clothes and then to the door, asking without words if they should even bother to open it. Lydus began buttoning himself again in answer. ¡°One moment,¡± he said. ¡°I will open this door if you do-¡± Ada was quicker. Outside stood old Brena with a ring of keys in her hand. ¡°I was passing by and heard a scream.¡± ¡°Indeed you did, my queen.¡± The landlady shot him a grimace. ¡°Impudent, bothersome, and worst of all, late with my rent. I should¡¯ve put you out on the street weeks ago, composer or no.¡± Lydus took her hands in his for but a moment before she pulled away. ¡°And heaven smiles on your patience, good lady! For now you see the culmination of all your tribulation.¡± Brena¡¯s forehead became even more creased than usual at that. ¡°Save your fancy words, Lydus. Do you have my money or not?¡± Reaching out for her hands once more, this time she did not recoil from Lydus¡¯ touch. ¡°Brena, my angel, my loveliest flower, may you ever pine after the sight of my face again!¡± He took up the frail woman in his arms even tighter than he had Ada, and she swatted at him with all her inconsiderable force. ¡°What¡¯s this, then? Put me down at once!¡± ¡°But why, my dearest sunshine? For henceforth, you shall never be graced with my presence again.¡± He released Brena after clasping her to him once more. The woman raised a hand to strike him away when he reached into his pocket and withdrew an envelope. Its presence elicited a single raised eyebrow.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Truly?¡± A clawed hand snatched the paper away from Lydus and she opened it warily, as if it might contain a snake. She drew out a single, handwritten banknote, made out in her name by the royal treasurer to the amount of eight silver crowns. ¡°About time, too. Now what¡¯s this about never seeing you again?¡± ¡°It is that simple, my lady. Your humble guests Lydus and Ada have hit upon such a stroke of luck that we must move on to greater things.¡± While Brena shot him the same look of thinly veiled contempt that he had known since he first arrived in this dingy tenement on the wrong side of the river, Ada¡¯s face was quizzical. Though he had not said a word to her until now, he assumed she would be just as happy as he was in the moment he chose to leave this place behind. ¡°Well, then,¡± Brena said, turning the banknote over in her hands. She held it up to the light, examining the play of sunlight through the paper and ink. Apparently satisfied, she put her back to Lydus and Ada, stalking back to her lair on the first floor. ¡°You¡¯ll have to be out by this Moon¡¯s Day.¡± ¡°Oh, certainly! We certainly will be,¡± he called after her. He closed the door with vigor and faced Ada again. ¡°You said nothing of leaving,¡± she said. Concern wrinkled her brows. ¡°I meant to, if only the hag had not interfered first. Was it a pleasant surprise?¡± He leaned in to kiss her again but this time, she stepped away. Ada seated herself on the old couch near the door that looked as if the upholsterer had shot and skinned a flower shop. That would have to go as well, he noted. Ada sighed. ¡°We have enough trouble with money here,¡± she said. ¡°Where else could we afford to go?¡± ¡°I found a place across the river. It would make a most ideal studio, and for only seventeen crowns a month.¡± ¡°Only seventeen? You really have let this commission go to your head.¡± Lydus noticed the look coming over her face and took the seat next to her. ¡°Ada,¡± he said. She was slow in turning her head to face him. ¡°It is not just the commission. Consider that we must also have a space to entertain patrons. We can hardly do that here.¡± ¡°And who are these patrons?¡± ¡°They will come. I promise you; after they hear of the work I will do for the king, they will come. They will nearly beat down our door to put my name on a title page.¡± Lydus reached out with tenderness reserved for only the most delicate notes and took Ada¡¯s hands in his. They were shaking slightly. ¡°I would have it be our name.¡± ¡°You mean it?¡± she asked. ¡°You truly mean it?¡± ¡°Of course!¡± He wanted to laugh in that moment, but Ada only became more serious. ¡°And you promise that you will find patrons afterward? If this commission runs out¡­¡± ¡°I promise. All that is in my power to do, I will do it.¡± Lydus gently squeezed her fingers in emphasis. In an instant, her arms were around his neck, his head was lost entirely in tangles of chestnut hair, and his nostrils filled with the warm salt tang of fresh tears. ¡°I know this was all you ever wanted.¡± ¡°And more,¡± she said. ¡°There is more, is there not?¡± ¡°There is,¡± Lydus replied. ¡°On top of an end to Lord Alrid¡¯s hideous livery and waiting upon his whim to entertain him with yet another concert, we shall be rich, if only for a while. I have already figured our expenses. Not including the costs of production, we should have plenty and more to spare. Why, with all this, our wedding could even make your sister jealous!¡± Ada laughed, a musical sound that struck Lydus deeper in that moment than could any other instrument. ¡°Hesia? She could envy none but the queen herself.¡± She took a moment to wipe her eyes. ¡°All I ask is a wedding. The size is unimportant.¡± Now that was dangerous, Lydus thought. Too much extravagance and even royal silver may not be able to pay for it all. Too little, on the other hand, and he ran the risk of appearing miserly, or else confirming the king¡¯s fear that he be seen as a poor patron. Certainly, that was not a risk he could take once word spread of his commission and it was known that he could afford a good deal more than he paid for. ¡°It shall be modest,¡± he declared, ¡°but not too much. Enough for Hesia to glance twice at the invitation before discarding it.¡± Ada¡¯s smile revealed a dimple on each rosy cheek. ¡°And is everything accounted for from your commission? Down to the last copper star?¡± ¡°Not yet, no, but I count enough. You know the usual costs: engraving the score, renting the rehearsal space. Freeing a few drunken players from the town watch.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Of course, silly. What I mean is may we still have some fun?¡± Now it was Lydus¡¯ turn to laugh. He gave her a sly smile. ¡°Ah yes,¡± he said. ¡°Fun. I had almost forgotten what that felt like. Yes, I believe we may. What kind of fun do you have in mind?¡± She whispered something in his ear as imaginative as it was filthy. ¡°But that does not require money. Think bigger.¡± ¡°Well,¡± she responded. ¡°I always wanted to take one of those little boats out on the river.¡± ¡°Up by the old castle?¡± Lydus could picture it in his head¡ªthough picturing Ada¡¯s suggestion instead was quite tempting¡ªwith its crumbling curtain walls clothed in vines that grew over worn cannon holes like scars over wounds. Perhaps it had been magnificent once, but now it was only a ruin best suited for young lovers. He reminded himself gleefully that he was one, and so was Ada. ¡°The same.¡± ¡°Simple enough. How about sunset?¡± ¡°Tonight?¡± she asked, taken aback. ¡°So sudden.¡± ¡°Of course. Why put it off any further? We have waited so long already.¡± ¡°You only found out I wanted it because I told you so just now.¡± ¡°Perhaps I too dreamed of those little swan boats. You must think of others for a change, my dear.¡± She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. ¡°Lydus Bereant telling another person to think of someone beside themselves. I never thought I would see it.¡± He gasped in feigned shock. ¡°You have seen it, and you will see much more.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± she asked, lips twisting in the grin of a child who knew that whatever wrong she did, she would get away with it. She would not be wrong for thinking so. Lydus told her. She hit him even harder this time. Chapter 3 Perhaps the greatest secret of composition, especially the spontaneous variety, was that there was hardly anything spontaneous about it. Every bit of flair and harmonic trickery ever displayed on keys or strings had already been worked out a hundred times in some cramped, dark room before it ever premiered onstage. Lydus considered it in much the same way as he would a meat pie: the results appeared more appetizing as long as one was ignorant of the process behind them. Learn too much of the details and knowledge quickly took the place of appetite. That being said, the first week of work on his commission had not been his most difficult ever. It was a feeling he recognized and feared he would soon come to miss; enough time still remained that he could look forward to its expiration, with the rush of his deadline yet far off. Thankfully, his previous contract with Lord Alrid had only placed the rights for completed pieces in the Lord of Vanterburg¡¯s sole possession, leaving notes and sketches with Lydus. What this meant was that two symphonies, a fanfare, and nearly a dozen songs would have to wait until Lord Alrid finally chose to die before they could be performed outside the city again without the man¡¯s written consent. Only a couple of these he truly regretted having completed at that time, but all that was in the past. At present, much greater prospects helped to soothe him, as well as the great collection of notes still his to use, and use them he would. He spent the first few days revisiting those notes in search of anything that was not too banal or derivative for a symphony to be emblazoned with the name of Queen Saraen Reschanant Loresin. Much to his chagrin, that constituted an overwhelming majority. In amongst all that, however, he rediscovered a handful of useable bits. Here was a melody he had once thought to use as a march, later abandoned during the writing of his Terestin symphony. Perhaps it could make a pleasant dance with a change of tempo and enough flourishes. An embarrassingly large number of pages distant from that, he found a string of cadences that had once kept him up all night in vain trying to elaborate and place into something larger. If in this revisitation these pieces were again returned to his notes to await a future burst of inspiration, that was no great loss. Every scrap of music, whether brilliant or unlistenable, was ultimately an exercise in what might succeed and what would not. If he should be left with comparatively more of the latter, no one else would have to know. Perhaps his great-grandfather and namesake had also produced a similarly unsightly glut of refuse, but that too would never be known. Old Mattis Bereant had seen to that when he burned all of his father¡¯s notes at his death. Lydus had once toyed with the same idea, thinking it a parting insult to his own father and his hopes of perpetual income should the son meet some untimely fate, but he soon recanted on that proposal. A much better revenge would be simply to outlive the bastard than condemn any future children to poverty on account of his own pettiness. The latter consideration weighed on him presently as well. While he could not say whether it was more Ada¡¯s doing or his own, thoughts of marriage brought with them thoughts of its fruits. It was not a subject he had given himself to much before, even though Ada and he had done nearly everything in their power to bring it to his mind. Already it had been enough to drive out a musical idea on several occasions, which frustrated him more than anything. The two of them had already agreed: she would take on the details of their ceremony, while he would work to bring about the means to afford them. More than a year at her side had shown her to be thriftier than expected for one of noble blood, so the cost itself would be no obstacle. He only wondered what the obstacle was¡ªespecially here in their new, larger apartment¡ªbut where Lydus saw sufficient space for one of Mustrian¡¯s new dynamic keyboards, Ada envisioned filling the same with children instead. He had nothing against children. In fact, he genuinely wanted them someday, though he could not give an ideal number or preference for either names or genders. When he thought about how he would raise them, he liked to think of himself as being firm but fair, loving in all the ways that his father¡¯s generation had been taught to avoid for fear of rendering their sons effeminate and daughters unruly. The idea almost made him laugh. In a world of such virile specimens as soldiers and sailors, a composer must seem a dreadful waste of manhood, while Ada had a harlot¡¯s modesty and a dockman¡¯s tongue. Any offspring they bore must necessarily be a combination of both: an unholy terror. Was it always the child¡¯s fate to raise his own in either mimicry of or opposition to his parents? Lydus could not be sure, having never attempted either; what he did know was that none of his children would grow up to be a musician. Lydus¡¯ shoulders arched involuntarily at the teasing touch of fingers on his neck. Spinning from his seat in feigned rage, he caught Ada in the act. ¡°You devil!¡± he cried, which sent her retreating toward the fireplace. She took up the iron poker from beside the hearth, leading Lydus to respond in kind with the brush. ¡°On your guard,¡± she said and assumed an exaggerated duellist¡¯s pose. Lydus struck first, driving his opponent back a few paces, but only briefly; she soon gained the advantage and pressed it until he was forced in among the curtains. That was the final straw. He rapped at her fingers with his chosen weapon, leaving a puff of soot behind on her bright blue sleeve. In mock rage, she cast aside her implement onto the brick hearth and pushed aside Lydus¡¯ own with one hand while swatting at him with the other. A few more dabs of ash fell around her shoulders before he abandoned his futile attack altogether and swept her up at her knees. Ada let out an embarrassing yelp and then burst into laughter as he lost his balance and stumbled, leaving them both laid out on that unsettlingly floral couch which he had sworn would be gone within the week. For a moment, they both lay still, catching their breath. Her eyes found his and considered him as if they were searching for something, though he could not say what. ¡°You really are a child, Lydus,¡± she said softly, as one hand brushed loose hair out from in front of his face. ¡°And you are not much older. Besides, what difference do four more years make anyway?¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°They should be enough for me to know better than to marry for love instead of money. To think that I could have been engaged to marry Ferant instead of some impish composer.¡± Lydus snickered. ¡°Oh, that dye merchant? He was so unbearably dull; you would have no entertainment whatsoever with him.¡± ¡°That dull man is currently sailing for Lenas¡¯ Islands and will return richer than a lord.¡± ¡°Yes, but when he arrives, he will find himself surrounded by innumerable beautiful women in every imaginable state of undress. Though knowing him, he is so dull that somehow, he will still find a way to not enjoy himself.¡± Ada¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Would you enjoy yourself?¡± she inquired. ¡°Certainly not,¡± Lydus answered. ¡°The heat would be most unagreeable and I can see no purpose in sailing all that way just to be turned into supper like poor Ergenio.¡± ¡°Did they really eat him?¡± she asked, brows furrowed in concern. ¡°I assume so. I never actually read the book.¡± ¡°What was the last book you read? And when?¡± Lydus only smiled mischievously. ¡°The King of Oravia does not pay me to lounge about reading books; only to drink, fornicate, and write him music as the occasion demands.¡± ¡°But not for long,¡± his paramour added. ¡°Well, yes, it is only a temporary contract, bu-¡± ¡°No, I mean the fornication.¡± She whispered the last word as if the two of them were not already less than a hand¡¯s breadth away from each other. ¡°Of course. And how go the preparations for our coming marriage?¡± ¡°Well enough,¡± Ada said. ¡°Taela at the market agreed to give me a discount on our flowers, and my father nearly agreed to pay for the feast.¡± ¡°Nearly?¡± ¡°The mention of your commission must have awakened something in him. Thirty-one years I have watched him and he still treats the idea of romantic behavior as if it were some foreign thing; not repulsive but incomprehensible at the same time.¡± Lydus could almost commiserate with his future bride¡¯s father. Though sentimentality was practically a composer¡¯s only trade, public displays of it still made him somewhat uneasy. By now, this was a familiar contradiction for him. ¡°How did Lord Fredick ever get married without a single show of emotion?¡± he wondered aloud. ¡°Great-grandfather¡¯s gold did not harm his prospects.¡± ¡°Then we have that in common! I will be sure to broach the subject at our next meeting.¡± ¡°And have it be your last?¡± ¡°Please?¡± Ada did not appear as amused as Lydus. ¡°I kid!¡± ¡°I want to believe you,¡± she said with a humph. ¡°I know my father is stodgy.¡± ¡°And tedious.¡± ¡°And tedious. But it would be wise for you to stay in his good graces, at least until he has paid his share of our expenses. Will you do that for me?¡± For not the first time in his life, Lydus¡¯ first instinct was to conjure up a witty response. He could not say that this sort of behavior had served him well¡ªin fact, he would be among the many to say that it had been overwhelmingly detrimental¡ªbut only that it had been entertaining. However, this vast experience had also taught him that there was value in acquiescence and even silence, loathe as he was to admit it. Now was one such time. ¡°Yes,¡± he said. Ada raised her eyebrows slightly as if waiting for a further addition; she smiled pleasantly when none came. ¡°How reasonable of you.¡± ¡°I can be. Now what would you say if I suddenly became unreasonable again?¡± ¡°I would wonder what took you so long.¡± He could only laugh. ¡°Well,¡± he replied, ¡°hear me out. As you may recall, we once entertained the possibility of having fun. You know, now that the king has paid me three times my old salary in one quarter of the time.¡± ¡°I do recall that. I also remember that we did have fun, at least until you nearly capsized our boat.¡± And he might not have done so if the riverbank had not been so steep, but that was well outside his ability to control. ¡°Only nearly. As I was saying, we still have considerable means for fun, if you would be so inclined this evening.¡± Ada¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Oh? And what sort of vanities does the great composer have in mind?¡± ¡°It has come to my attention that the Silver Spur has acquired a single cask of Calliran wine from King Lenas¡¯ personal vineyard.¡± Ada barely suppressed a gasp. ¡°But if they are caught¡­¡± She did not have to state the penalty for smuggling, especially with any goods even slightly royal in nature. ¡°Precisely why we must drink our fill of it tonight. No need to leave Master Tirus with something so incriminating in his cellar.¡± ¡°Then we have not a moment to lose!¡± Ada said, and pushed herself up off Lydus and made her way to the bedroom. It was good to see her so eager for a night¡¯s entertainment. Months of pinching every copper after his sudden dismissal from the Lord of Vanterburg¡¯s service had been borne with her usual patience. That she could cast it all off so quickly delighted him more than anything, since he had anticipated a much more arduous period of convincing. Without a clue as to how much the rundown innkeeper of a rundown inn could charge for wine as illegal as it was exquisite, he could only assume it would be exorbitant. Fortunately, Lydus was in an exorbitant mood. They dressed well but quickly. While the Silver Spur was most certainly not a place where anyone from this side of the river would deign to drink and carouse, Lydus and Ada were not from this side of the river. Still, they must look the part of those who could afford to drink away the daily wages of an entire carpenter¡¯s shop in a single evening. The cost could be even more dear, if Master Tirus knew the true value of his prize, but Lydus was prepared to spend for it regardless. The sky took on an orange and purple cast as they reached the inn, on the main road between the bridge that he had crossed not too many days prior and the filthy apartment he had escaped from not long after that. Only a handful of patrons sat scattered about the common room this early, as many of them would likely still be completing their work at the various fishing docks along the Lurent or in one of several dozen shops and mercantiles nearby. Lydus pitied them. Master Tirus greeted them warmly and cast a wary eye around at the first mention of illicit wine but if Lydus was trusted anywhere, it was here. Soon enough, the inn wheeled about him like the stars of the firmament as he led a growing chorus of the most untrained voices in all of Gente in songs far too lewd for a king¡¯s composer. When the sun woke Lydus the next morning in his bed, still fully dressed and his money pouch stowed safely in his pocket, he glanced over at Ada dozing at his side and reasoned that the previous night must have gone well after all. Chapter 4 Aside from his father¡¯s scant portrayals after the fact, the sum of Lydus¡¯ knowledge about the king¡¯s rising came from a single play by Taremont, who claimed to have recounted the exact morning ritual performed by an old king of Taruschkan in all its lurid details. Well, not all, since even Taremont could only get away with so much onstage, but what still remained was apparently enough to excite the Grand Inquiry in Arcinia even before a production in the kingdom had been announced. As optimistic as he could be at times, Lydus would not expect the same quality of spectacle in the palace of Gente, though he very much wished to. Instead, he would simply wait and learn the proper way of conducting himself in the same way he had done so as a child throughout the courts of Corastia: by imitating those who did it best until he finally surpassed them. The carriage ride this morning was much shorter than the last and made more pleasant by the fact that Lydus had drunk only a little the night before. Well¡­ More than a little, perhaps, but certainly not a great quantity. Regardless, he felt confident in a way that required something more than wine. After two weeks of laboring over his commission, there was indeed progress to report. His selection of themes and fragments had narrowed considerably, which went more in his favor than otherwise. Too many conflicting sketches at once could only distract him from completing the project in his allotted time, or else muddle the sentiments he needed his finished product to convey. Much like that horrid fountain in the courtyard that greeted him once again today, a lack of focus could be just as damaging to a composition as could a paucity of original thought. Morning chill still clung to the air when he arrived at the palace, the rising sun casting long and hazy shadows into the courtyard. Servants bustled through open doors amongst two dozen or so hopeful penitents crowded outside. Once again, Lydus managed to escape the notice of the familiar guard, who was otherwise engaged and shouting down a particularly vocal merchant who had evidently been eluded by one of his debtors. Knowing the experience of eluding better than that of being eluded, the composer could not help but smile at the exchange and wish the best of luck to the creditor¡¯s prey. Even more men and women milled about just inside the entrance. All were dressed in finery likely worth the value of Lydus¡¯ entire commission and for a moment, he thought to feel diminished by association. However, he reminded himself that whereas most of these had come here with some petition or another, whether for marriage, adjudication, or frivolity at the crown¡¯s expense, it was the king who called on Lydus today and not the other way around. The thought almost compensated for his feeling entirely lost. He chose to side with confidence, or at least the show of it. Looking around him, he set out to discover the man who looked either most in charge or most harried and assume that such was the royal chamberlain. It was a difficult task,what with so many dressed in sufficient regality, but finally he saw one who could fit the description. A mustached man with a tight mouth and a heavy golden chain around his neck paced before the closed and halberd-guarded doors that separated the noble blood of Arcine from the royal chambers. His hand clutched a sheaf of important-looking papers, which further impelled Lydus to seek the man out. He took a deep breath and braved the tightly packed crowd. ¡°My lord,¡± Lydus began. ¡°His majesty the king has called for m-¡± The other man¡¯s eyes narrowed in frustration. ¡°As he has called for everyone else,¡± the chamberlain said. ¡°You will have to wait with the rest.¡± With that, he was off on some other errand, and Lydus was left facing the doors as a mess of shoulders and elbows accosted him from behind. It was not the brusqueness that bothered him, Lydus thought as the sting of dismissal began to fade. Rather, it was the complete lack of recognition. Perhaps a man like the chamberlain was entirely too busy to partake in music, or else such derision for creatures of the court was something he held in common for all. If the latter were the case, he could not begrudge the chamberlain that. The more these people jostled at him like bumpkins at a puppet show, the more he found such contempt pleasing if not necessary. But was even one hint of familiarity too much to ask? ¡°Lydus,¡± a commanding man¡¯s voice said behind him said. ¡°Lydus Bereant.¡± Evidently not, he thought with gladness, and turned to face the speaker. Delicately curled black hair rose up in a heap over his powdered face, offset below by a great coat of red-and-gold brocade. The composer proffered his right hand. ¡°I have not yet had the pleasure, my lord¡­¡± ¡°Arris Dolmarehl. I attended your last premiere, you know. Other matters kept me from congratulating you then, but I found it quite fascinating.¡± A smile practiced at a hundred performances and more spread across Lydus¡¯ face. ¡°You flatter me, my lord.¡± ¡°Nonsense. It is good to see that you have earned yourself an invitation here. You have no idea how the noble blood of Oravia clamors over itself just to watch King Edel put on his own shirts.¡± That was new, Lydus thought, his eyebrows raising involuntarily. Durent IV always had servants dress him. ¡°Then I shall watch with great interest.¡± ¡°You have never been to a king¡¯s rising before,¡± Lord Arris discerned, a finger rising to his lips. ¡°No,¡± he replied softly. ¡°But my father has.¡± The man leaned in closer and Lydus imaged he caught the scent of cloves on his breath. ¡°Indulge me for a moment and I shall tell you something I wish was told to me when I was a much younger man.¡± ¡°Certainly, my lord.¡± At last, he thought. Now was the moment he had waited for; to finally learn some secret knowledge that could propel him into even greater heights than his great but singular commission. ¡°The trick, Master Bereant, is asking the most using the least amount of words.¡± And with that, the man was gone into the crowd before he could open his mouth. Fitting. Perhaps it was last night¡¯s wine that slowed Lydus¡¯ tongue, or else amazement at such remarkable pithiness. He could not help but laugh, first a little snort of air through his nostrils and then a giggle; a few eyes turned to him and his hand shot up to cover his mouth as he feigned a yawn. The rapping of a halberd butt on stone saved him from his predicament, only to create a new one.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Lords and ladies, distinguished guests,¡± called a boy¡¯s high voice from the other side of the partition. ¡°The court welcomes you to the rising of his majesty, Edel the Third, King of the Oravi-¡± Even such musical tones were drowned out immediately as a clamor rose up from the assembled petitioners, who rushed to the little gate that granted them entrance to the doors of the royal bedchamber. The chamberlain sprang into action. ¡°One at a time, one at a time!¡± he called, doing little to still the crowd. ¡°Only those listed may enter the chamber of the king!¡± Where a line should have formed before the chamberlain, there was only a mob. Unknown voices shouted out names hailing from all over the kingdom; it was a cacophony no mortal could compose. Only a few who reached the front made it through under the chamberlain¡¯s watchful gaze¡ªa handful of lords, one comely lady and another not so much, even a Testator in his blue cloak embroidered with flames of golden thread¡ªleaving the rest to plead for the chamberlain to check over his list if only just one more time. Lydus marveled at the scene and more importantly, those admitted entry as Edel dressed while he must be consigned to seeing him after. What great business they must have at the palace to catch even a glimpse of the king himself putting on the royal slippers and shaving the royal face; a new war, perhaps, or a grand ball to showcase the most current Taruschkani fashions? He resigned himself to never knowing and turned away slightly from the partition when he heard his name shouted above the din. ¡°Master Lydus Bereant, composer!¡± He spun quickly; almost too quickly. The chamberlain stood behind him on his tiptoes, peering over the assembled nobles and dregs of high society. ¡°Master Lydus Berea-¡± The man¡¯s eyes fell on him and he gestured hurriedly with his free hand holding a quill pen. ¡°Come, come! The king will not wait and neither will I.¡± Lydus did as ordered. It was difficult to keep the surprise from his face, and he felt that he should. Of course he knew the chamberlain would call his name to view the first and grander half of the king¡¯s rising. He must above all things not appear surprised, as if there was some improbability in the name of Oravia¡¯s greatest composer being called to see the king. Let none doubt that Lydus Bereant, composer, belonged here as much as any other. He crossed the room to the doors of the royal bedchamber hoping that at least some of the eyes that fell on him were envious. Inside were eight or so men and women dressed in finery and two servants in knee-length embroidered coats of deep blue velvet. Behind a golden balustrade and heavy curtains drawn back to allow visitors to gaze upon the royal person, King Edel III Loresin of the Oravians still lay abed in a linen nightshirt, though very much awake. There was nervousness on the younger servant¡¯s face as he looked about for someone in particular. ¡°No matter,¡± the king said, ¡°I shall proceed withou-¡± The royal gaze fell on Lydus. He was unsure how to act, but knew he must do so quickly. ¡°Your majesty,¡± Lydus replied and moved to bow, when another man pushed past him: the chamberlain. ¡°My apologies, your majesty,¡± the other man said as he squeezed through the assembled visitors. ¡°Quite the crowd this morning.¡± ¡°You look like a mad hare when cross, do you know that, Lord Alfeo?¡± Silence took the breath from the crowd gathered around the royal bed: did the king jest? Must one laugh at the royal joke? And what if it was not a joke, but a private moment of viciousness that must never leave this room except in the most delicate of whispers? Lydus waited for someone else to make a mistake first. The comely woman let out the least comely laugh Lydus could recall, a mule-like cross between a wheeze and a shriek. He could only pray it was similarly sterile; a prayer made in vain, as it happened. Now that the dam had been broken by the first eager petitioner, others joined in the braying and general cacophony. Lydus only smiled the kind of smile a dog might, his lips parting to show his teeth without reaching his eyes. If it was in fact a royal joke, he thought, it was a poor one. But he was not here to write a scathing review of the royal joke for the magazines; only to assure the king that the royal gold was well-spent. He was happy to report that most of it was. Or rather, some. A goodly portion, to be sure. Details. For the chamberlain¡¯s part, he took it all in stride. ¡°Your majesty, may I present Lord Alsin Herimer and his wife, the Lady Sophia.¡± A couple to Lydus¡¯ left looking not much older than himself bowed magnanimously. ¡°Master Gerard Tolt¡­¡± The king brushed it all off. ¡°I shall have plenty of time for ceremony when I am lying in my casket. Besides, there are no new faces here. All are friends of the court.¡± Now that was new, Lydus thought. To be a friend of the court¡­ Quite an improvement of his fortunes since the last time he had attached himself to a court of any kind, much less a king¡¯s. He would have to enjoy it as much as possible for as long as it lasted. Meanwhile, the king was halfway dressed, no thanks to this menagerie of servants and sycophants. It pleased Lydus to see that that particular rumor was true. To Lydus¡¯ left, the chamberlain could be seen rolling his eyes. ¡°His majesty will now hear briefly your petitions.¡± ¡°Briefly,¡± interjected the king. Another score for Lord Arris the Pithy, as Lydus turned over yet again the same thought he had wrestled with since reading the king¡¯s invitation several days prior: how to inform the king of his progress in little enough time to not be a nuisance but in sufficient detail to convince him of great effort. In truth, there was much to discuss. Had he the time to speak with the king in private as had been the case on the day he received this commission, he could describe the work in greater detail. Here, though, as the line of men and women awaiting the king¡¯s ear and advice crept forward toward the edge of his bed, there was hardly enough time at all. What should he say then? That a few themes had presented themselves already but that the struggle was ornamenting them in a manner not so outlandish that the composition be dismissed as so much Eritashan filigree without being simply banal? That the real trouble was a lack not of inspiration but of motivation? Beyond the money, of course. Perhaps it really was Schaeren who should have received a commission more fitting for his sentimentality or, worse yet, Alestan. No, he thought, fixing his eyes on the intricate rug at his feet, shuffling one step at a time toward the king. This commission is mine, should I fulfill it or fail. After all, the Lydus Bereant who was his namesake was long in the grave, his music now almost entirely relegated to those of an age to follow him soon enough. If this present Lydus could not live up to the king¡¯s expectation, why, how could his predecess- The chamberlain cleared his throat conspicuously. ¡°Master Lydus Bereant, your majesty.¡± His eyes snapped up from the floor and directly to King Edel¡¯s, who sat dressed and waiting but not for long. ¡°Well, Master Lydus,¡± he asked, his words clipped as if running late, ¡°how goes it, then?¡± In that moment, Lydus found that all his carefully chosen words had gone, yet silence followed and pleaded to be filled. ¡°It, er¡­ It, your majesty? Why yes, it! It goes¡­¡± The royal head nodded him along as some of those words rushed back. Something about ornamentation, he recalled. ¡°Well. It goes well,¡± he replied instead. ¡°Good,¡± the king said and rose from his seat on the edge of the bed. He clapped a hand on Lydus¡¯ shoulder; he was already gone before another single one of those precious words could return to Lydus¡¯ now-reeling mind. And while King Edel prepared himself for council meetings and trade negotiations and other such exceptionally royal things, Lydus prayed that he might never again see Lord Arris Dolmarehl for the rest of his days. Chapter 5 Bluebirds flitted about the outstretched boughs of oaks planted in the days of some King Durent or another, sounding out their love calls to the sun that hung at its zenith in a sky of white, windblown clouds. Lydus wanted nothing right now more than to shoot them. Had he fired a musket before? Well, no, not exactly, but how hard could it be? Simply point, fire, and rid yourself of whatever chattering annoyance you fancied least. He would like to see them dart away from a ball of molten lead with as much vigor as they had while¡­ The arrival of the first course took his mind away from his violent delights and back to the setting. By all accounts, it was a lovely morning, except for the birds, and the earliness of the hour, and the deeply rutted road from Gente to the Jeretheel family estate just outside the city, and most of the present company¡ªAda excluded, of course. But did he truly despise so much of it or was he only hungry? That was a truth he would have to discover one bite of pork sausage and roast mutton at a time. Around the table sat a fine collection of the people Lydus wanted to see least. Master Fredick Jeretheel, grown soft around the waist and always quick to remind any who wandered too near him that his grandfather had been a lord actually, was at the head of the table opposite Lydus. Spots of sunlight that darted in between the gently shifting leaves above give him the appearance of a swollen, velvet leopard. If there was anything stronger than diluted spiced wine served with this noon meal, Lydus might have even said so. Next to him in a dress two fashions out of date sat Aelis Jeretheel, who must have been some great beauty in the bygone days of Lydus¡¯ own namesake for his Ada to have snatched any trace of loveliness from amongst the aggressive dullness that was her father. Hesia, Ada¡¯s older sister and recipient of every parental quality which Ada had been favored to avoid, was off doing whatever it was that Hesia did when she was not offering up criticisms as if she thought them to be dearly sought-after treasures. Ada¡¯s hand on his lap¡ªfor now, at least¡ªand the sausage were the extent of Lydus¡¯ present comforts. His Dullness spoke. ¡°So, Lydus, Ada tells me you met with the king again recently.¡± Fredick nodded briefly to himself and the air filled again with those awful birds before Lydus reasoned that that was all he wished to say. Beside him, Aelis smiled pleasantly. Too pleasantly. Lydus cleared his throat. ¡°She tells it true, Master Fredick. Naturally, it was quite a spectacle. The, uh, the royal rising, that is. Have you ever been?¡± Lydus asked, and nearly yelped as Ada¡¯s hand gripped his thigh like the talons of some fearsome bird. He knew she hated these stories like the one Lydus had just prompted, which was the only thing that made them bearable. ¡°Myself, no, I have not had the honor of attending such a grand event. But,¡± he said as he raised a finger and bowed his head, ¡°my grandfather, Lord Edrick Jeretheel, was once called to the palace for quite a similar occasion. You see, in those days the war up in Honta was growing fiercer by the day and¡­ No, no, my mistake. The war down in Ossiria, that is it! The war in Ossiria was growing fiercer by the day and the king at that time, Durent II, he had a proposition for my grandfather. One day he called him to the palace and said with much solemnity, I am sure, that all he needed to secure our southern border against those foul Cyrnnish heretics was one good man. Well, one good man at the head of five hundred other good men. And so it was that King Durent made a proper lord of Edrick Jeretheel and sent him off to the Ellorin with an entire company of Gente¡¯s finest pikemen at his back. The Company of the Lion, they were called; theirs is a most prestigious history if you should care to read up on them further. I have their records in our family library, you know.¡± Master Fredick gave Lydus a broad grin, which Lydus returned as best he could. Everything must go back to Grandfather, he thought, and wondered how Ada had managed so well for so long. It was a strange thing to behold: a man who seemed to relish living in another man¡¯s shadow. Were Lydus significantly more inebriated, he could have elaborated on why that was. More precisely, on why hearing it from a man who he sincerely hoped would be his father-in-law caused such loathing that he found himself wishing death on harmless songbirds.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Another time, perhaps. Now he only had to make it through the rest of this luncheon, whatever tour of the estate Master Fredick had dreamed up, and then a bumpy carriage ride back to the city. Still, Lydus reasoned if he could sit through Schaeren, he could sit through this. At least the food was good. Pear tarts followed the mutton and sausage, with a crust so rich with butter and honey that he hardly thought to note that even the Jeretheels could still not afford fine Achogan sugar. Or at least if they could, then they wasted none of it on him. He supposed it was only fair. Still, it felt as if his mood was lightened by it¡ªor else it was the brightness of sweet wine in his tart¡ªsuch that he did not even recoil at Master Fredick¡¯s next question. ¡°So Lydus,¡± he asked, settling himself in his chair and becoming somehow even broader. ¡°Do tell; how goes the commission?¡± ¡°Yes, how is the music these days?¡± Mistress Aelis interjected. Hesia, meanwhile, only regarded Lydus with something approaching a glare. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. ¡°Well enough, I should say, in no small part due to the particular inspiration of one Miss Ada Jeretheel.¡± This time he squeezed Ada¡¯s hand back and he thought he heard her choke down a yelp of surprise. She only grinned broadly. Across the table, Mistress Aelis clapped her hands together. ¡°Wonderful news!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°I simply cannot wait to hear it!¡± This time is was Lydus¡¯ turn to choke. ¡°The premiere is, um, still some time off yet,¡± he replied. ¡°An entire symphony is no small task.¡± Down the table, Master Fredick cleared his throat. ¡°Oh but there is no need to wait so long,¡± the man interjected. ¡°Why, just inside we have our own harpsichord. A bit dusty, I fear, and perhaps it could stand a good tuning but surely it is up to the task. Surely you could share but a snatch of the music for your dear beloved¡¯s parents?¡± In that moment, it was as if every bit of music Lydus had ever committed to hands and heart vanished from his mind. With nearly twenty five years now passed between the time when his father first pressed his chubby infant fingers down onto the keys to the present, it was an alarming number of bits to have vanish but vanish they did. Even to be forced to hum a tune would be a torment worthy of the Great Inquiry at present. Thankfully, Ada came up with a better explanation first. ¡°I am certain he would love to. If not for the king, that is,¡± she said, squeezing his hand gently once more. The king, Lydus thought. ¡°Yes,¡± he continued. ¡°Quite right. Believe it or not, the contents of this commission are a secret to be known only to the king and those chosen to assist me in my work. To reveal anything now would be¡­ Why, I cannot imagine it to be anything less than treason.¡± Master Fredick, the petty grasper that he was, blanched a bit at that. Silence fell over the table like a heavy blanket. ¡°He only teases, Father,¡± Ada interceded finally with a forced laugh. ¡°Some other time, perhaps.¡± Laughter just as contrived then burst forth from Master Fredick. ¡°Of course! I would never mean to interfere with the king¡¯s business,¡± he replied. ¡°Nor can art be hurried in the least!¡± added Mistress Aelis, nodding solemnly. The conversation that followed was more tedious than that which preceded it. Lydus took it as a good enough sign that his reprieve was nearing when he could return to the city, if not immediately back to work. There was much to do that was not composing yet far more engaging than attempting to play nice with more nobility when there was no commission to come at the other end of all his flattery. There was Ada, to be sure, but by no means was she something to be won. At any rate, he counted it a welcome but undeserved blessing that he and his bride to be were to live in the city. He only prayed as best he remembered how that his pace of work after this symphony be sufficiently furious to save him from her relations but not so much that it keep him pleasure. A youth was a terrible thing to waste. By the time they had finished off the last of the cheeses and honeyed fruits, the sun was already well on its way toward the horizon. Lydus was thankful that little remained to be said, at least to him. Details of the wedding were Ada¡¯s alone; that was what they had agreed upon. If there was anything which Lydus truly wished to discuss with Fredick Jeretheel, then in these past two years of closeness to his daughter he had not found it and was of no mind to find it now. Even thinking to search for it nearly brought him to hunting down wine or something stronger instead. They bid each other their goodnights in something resembling pleasantness. Ada sat beside him, though not near. Instead, Lydus felt the space between them as a sliver of ice where warmth should¡¯ve prevailed. It was not until the bouncing of the carriage under his seat told him they had reached the main road that Ada spoke again. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to mock him like that,¡± she said, and left Lydus to respond as he would. He didn¡¯t. The carriage only creaked onward into the night.