Deep within a picturesque garden, a modest audience of about a hundred people sat patiently, waiting for a young woman to take the stage before them.
The hanging branches of the willow-like trees crowned the setting, their bases decorated with countless colorful flowers.
There was a table of five judges right before the stage. Behind them, a line of artists, each holding their instruments, ready to put on a show. Further behind was the audience.
Anyone who had any contact with Starhold high society could tell at a glance that the audience was no collection of commoners. Among them sat some of the most powerful and influential members of the Faralethal settlement, and even the empire as a whole.
The young woman got up, hoisting her cello, and made her way over to the stage. She offered the viewers a curtsy and settled into the chair, putting her bow to the string.
Then, a set of four floating hands appeared beside her, each holding an ethereal copy of the bow she held in her real hand.
The composition she played had been written by herself, tailored to her unique capability. It was quite literally impossible to play for anyone who didn’t have three pairs of hands.
Rich music washed over the audience, almost sounding as if an entire orchestra had taken to the stage. A highly organized, precise orchestra at that.
And little to nobody in the audience looked particularly impressed.
Once she was done, the judges offered her nods of acknowledgement. At the very least, she hadn’t embarrassed herself.
On this stage, that much was already a brag-worthy accomplishment.
She left the stage with a small, pleased smile, offering another bow and making her way down, when she was replaced by a man carrying a saxophone. But as he began playing, it didn’t quite sound like one. The air around him shimmered, betraying the presence of an air-affinity spell, one that was modulating the sound to almost resemble a woman’s voice, creating an eerie, uncanny effect.
Despite the fact that the woman before him sounded infinitely better, the audience was significantly more receptive to the man’s performance. At the end, a judge even smiled at him.
“Remarkable,” someone in the audience said.
“He might very well be the new Slorge,” a woman muttered, evidently impressed.
The man sitting beside her scoffed contemptuously. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Give the boy a couple more decades to mature.”
“You people do realize that Slorge is still alive, right?”
The performances continued, with each person showcasing some form of bizarre method. At the center of each play wasn’t the quality of the performance, or the quality of their music, no; rather, it was a showcase of the impossible.
A mortal could be the master of an instrument. So being a master wasn’t enough. Archhuman society prided itself on the power they held, the ability to do more than baseline humans. Hell, most were quite vocal about not even considering base humans the same species, likening them more to apes.
Thus, sounding good was optional. All that mattered on this stage was that you could do something others couldn’t.
Of course, you still had to be at least at the level of a master to qualify. Anything less would be beyond embarrassing.
The performances continued.
Following the saxophone played was a pianist that could play the piano quickly and precisely enough that it literally sounded like a person talking. In fact, it was the famous speech the empress held after taking the throne.
And the crowd went mild.
Even though it was decidedly superhuman, it was basically the go-to for everyone with a speed talent. It was a solid performance, but old news as far as most of the people in the crowd were concerned.
After him came a guitarist woman who made every pluck sound… otherworldly. Ethereal, almost. It was definitely not the sound anyone without magical bullshit could produce from a regular guitar.
One after another, young, up-and-coming performers took the stage, receiving a wide range of reactions from the people who came to watch.
And then, a lean, beautiful young man took to the stage, donning a sharp suit. He had long, flowing brunet hair which flowed past his shoulders like a waterfall, framing a face of flawless skin and keen eyes. He carried a violin.
The announcer standing beside the stage gestured at him. “And now, please welcome the debut performance of one Freddy Stern, a student of Mrs. Pesk, and a rumored prodigy of the violin.”
The audience clapped.
For his part, Freddy tried his best not to give his teacher, who sat in the stands with a pleased smile, a death glare. This is not what I was told!
Almost as if reading his mind, the woman smiled and mouthed, “You’ll be fine.”
It had been a few months since Freddy had his realization about Emily, and his birthday was only about a week away at this point. It was March 1st, 2220. And on that day, Freddy was apparently doing this.
To understand how he found himself in this situation, one had to understand just how rich Freddy truly was. Sure, many Lords and Ladies had greater wealth at their disposal, but they disposed of it… slightly more responsibly. They had to. Because usually, people this wealthy had significant overhead costs, and their budgets tended to be tight, leaving them with surprisingly little money to spend on vanity.
Freddy was his own man. He earned money and spent it however he pleased. Sure, overall, he held less money and power than even many three-stars. But when it came to the power to recklessly squander that cash? In that sport, he had very few rivals.
Thus, when he had been shopping for instructors, he hadn’t hired average artists.
He went straight to the top.
His violin teacher wasn’t some random player he found on the street. She was a grand virtuoso, a council member of the Starhold Arts Academy, and her time cost a lot of money.
Around two weeks ago, she had pitched him the idea of playing at a “small talent show” for up-and-coming artists. Usually, he wouldn’t have wanted to come, but seeing how his soul healing had been stalling in progress ever since his realization about Emily, he felt pressured to step out of his comfort zone.
Small talent show, my ass.
Freddy was trying pretty hard not to stare at Madame Morleppe, who was sitting in a row further back, a blend of confusion, curiosity, and amusement playing across her face as she observed him. He didn’t recognize all that many others here, but if she was in the audience, it only stood to reason that this was a gathering of people who could crush him if they wanted to.
No pressure, I guess.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he anchored the violin and raised his bow. Then, without further ado, he began playing.
Between the three instruments, the violin was the only one he had stuck with.
Admittedly, the piano teacher’s approach to teaching had been the most effective. It wasn’t even close, in fact. After only about a month, Freddy became overwhelmingly proficient. Not only could he play countless songs flawlessly, but copying so many of them had rapidly deepened his understanding of the instrument. Three months in, he could even compose songs on the fly.
On the other hand, Freddy struggled with the guitar. Mainly because he hated the teacher’s guts, but even then, the slow and steady approach was simply infuriating when contrasted with his piano progress.
But it was ultimately the violin teacher who won.
Just as quickly as he had learned the piano, he grew bored of it. Once all the easy progress ran dry, so did his excitement to learn. It had come too easily.
Meanwhile, his violin teacher had taken a more measured approach. She showed him how to utilize his strengths to overcome his weaknesses, and guided him step by step. Even if the process had been slower, his enthusiasm had never gone away, and before he even knew it, he had developed a genuine love for the instrument. And just like that, his pursuit of violin mastery became his greatest tool for the slow, gradual healing of his soul.
After he accepted his teacher’s invitation to the allegedly “small” talent show, they had composed a piece that suited his strengths and unique talents.
While he did have a magical trick up his sleeve, that wasn’t the main thing he would be showcasing that day. No. When it came to demonstrating a superhuman capability with the instrument, Freddy was here to show only one thing.
A raw, overwhelming technical mastery over the instrument.
The moment he started playing, heads perked up. Anyone with a lick of sense for the arts could tell this was no regular performance.
Freddy’s entire body danced, coiling lovingly around the violin, which moaned its notes out like a pleased lover. Every movement was robotically precise, yet fluid, flowing along the invisible lines of the human heart.
Madame’s amused smile blossomed into a thrilled grin, and his teacher radiated a pride for her student few other teachers could match in a lifetime.
There were parts where he went fast, and parts where he went slow. Loud, quiet, gentle, and rough. It was a dramatic performance, painting the image of a dire conflict, despair and hope clashing for superiority. And then, suddenly, the theme changed.
Freddy closed his eyes, recollecting the vastness of the primordial domain of water. The sense of distance, the rain, the seas. Just the other day, he had painted a faint shadow of what he’d seen in there, and ever since, he had craved another outlet, a way to convey the feeling of vast, neverending seas, infinite raindrops, and the gentle giant guarding the sacred palace of the origin of life itself.
The notes flower into each other like a river,, the distant whine of something colossal sounding in the distance. And then—
“Twisted Pendulum,” he whispered, watching the world around him speed up. To him, the notes sounded high-pitched, but to the audience, they sounded strange. He could see even the judges perk up, some frowning at the strange phenomenon. The vibrations travelling through the violin had changed, affected by the twisted flow of time.
And just as the penalty came to an end, they sped up, generating a quickness that speed alone could not imitate. Then, once that came to an end, Freddy muttered “Twisted Pendulum” again, slowing down yet again, and then dragging the final few notes to a nostalgic end.
Nods and light clapping sounded through the audience, an impressed murmur enveloping the audience.
In non-snob terms, this was the equivalent of jumping up and down while screaming and frothing at the mouth.
The judges were smiling and nodding at him.
He bowed, taking his leave and returning back to his seat. He pointedly ignored the envious, spiteful looks some of the other performers were giving him as he made his way to his seat.
There were only a couple more people who went up after him, and none of them received much enthusiasm from the audience. Some of them pretty evidently thought he was guilty of overshadowing them, to which he really wanted to raise a middle finger, but held himself back.
Get fucker, losers.
His teacher had been right—many of these “young talents” were too focused on the supernatural. Sure, they could play at an impressive level, but it was clear as day that actually being good at the instrument wasn’t their priority.
Freddy had great respect for his teacher. All of his teachers had similar renown, but she was the only one who really understood what it meant to mentor someone and help them grow. Other than painting and the violin, Freddy had given up everything else. Piano and guitar didn’t click with him, singing just wasn’t his thing, and even painting had only stuck because he found it relaxing.
He sighed as he leaned into the chair, a wistful look crossing his face. He thought of Emily, the ache in his chest growing ever-greater. He just simply didn’t know what to do about that girl.
As far as he was concerned, his feelings for her were unwanted. But try as he may, he couldn’t rid himself of this crush. It was like a parasite feeding on his mind, driving him insane. Its mere existence went against everything he thought he knew about himself.
Would she be impressed by my playing…? he idly wondered, only for his mind to conjure the image of her sneering at him and mocking him for wasting time on something like this. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Just as he realized he was smiling, his smile rapidly died and he released a frustrated sigh. Fuck my stupid masochistic ass, man. Why am I like this?
While he was lost in thought, the last performance came to an end, and the announcer climbed up the stage. “That marks the final performance of the day. The judges will now administer the rewards for those who have earned them. You are all formally invited to a ball at the Maledorian Garden, which shall proceed after the completion of the rewards ceremony.”
Freddy had no intention of attending any such thing. Hell, he likely would have already excused himself if he weren’t curious about the promised rewards.
The judges climbed up to the stage, and then, called names one by one. “Kacey Leinstadt, please come up to the stage.”
The cello player made her way up to the judges, who handed her a bronze medal and shook her hand. She looked positively overjoyed.
Freddy was mildly confused as to why she would be so thrilled about a first-ranked badge, but then he remembered that some badges were easier to get than others. Not every badge was equally impressive, even at the same rank. And clearly, getting anything whatsoever from these people was considered a noteworthy accomplishment.
Several others also got called up, only receiving a first-ranked badge.
And then, his name came up. “Freddy Stern, please come up to the stage.”
Taking a breath to calm himself, he did so, stepping before the judges. They were holding their auras back, but he could tell that all of them were above him in rank.
An austere man handed him a golden badge as the announcer spoke. “For the outstanding performance he showed us today, Freddy Stern shall receive a third-ranked virtuoso violinist badge!”
Muttering and gasps of shock echoed through the crowd, with several people clearly questioning whether he was truly deserving of such a reward.
And one person didn’t keep to just muttering at whoever was sitting beside her. “Honorable judges!” A woman sitting two seats away from Mrs. Pesk rushed to her feet, indignance evident in her expression. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Virtuoso LeBlanc.” A female judge squinted. “It appears you object to our ruling?”
“I certainly do!” she asserted. “While Mr. Stern’s performance was extraordinary, I am of the opinion that this is an excessive accolade to reward unto a debutante. It would be better to give him some time to fully prove himself. Only should he repeatedly demonstrate this level of performance would it be justified to grant him such a rank”
Mrs. Pesk rolled her eyes, her annoyance evident, but she remained quiet.
“As a respected member of the board, we value your opinion. It is indeed rare for one to be rewarded such a high rank after a single performance,” the judge said. “However, due to extraordinary circumstances, we believe it to be justified.”
“Extraordinary circumstances?” she scoffed. “Such as?”
“For starters, Mr. Stern has only been studying music in any capacity for a little over a year.”
The woman halted. “According to who?”
“According to several highly credible sources,” the judge said, and Freddy thought she glanced in Madame’s direction.
The virtuoso went quiet for a few seconds. “Learning speed isn’t necessarily indicative of absolute skill, and it is hardly evidence that he hasn’t already hit a ceiling in his progress.”
“Would you make the same claim if you were aware of the fact that Mr. Stern is currently suffering from extreme soul damage?”
Again, the woman found herself at a loss for words. She spat out an undignified “Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously.”
Her disbelieving gaze briefly drifted over to Freddy before she nodded her head. “I apologize for the disturbance. Please proceed.” She took a seat, red in the face from embarrassment.
Freddy, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than to vanish into thin air. But alas, given the hungry looks many in the crowd were giving him, he knew he would piss off too many people to afford dipping at this moment.
With a strained smile, he accepted his shiny new badge and then followed after his teacher like a baby duck as they made their way into the den of wolves.
They were currently within Freddy’s favorite realm, the place he visited on a daily basis to relax and destress. The part they were in was one he had never been to before, namely because it was gated and reserved for invitation-only high society events—such as the one he was currently stuck in.
Freddy tried his best not to stare at the small horde of somewhat tastefully, partially nude waiters. High society certainly hated clothes. It was a small blessing he hadn’t been forced to perform with his meat swinging in the wind.
The ball started, and Freddy, who found himself completely out of place, finally got a moment to talk to his teacher. “I do not appreciate the fact that you misled me into coming here,” he said honestly.
“Misled?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve done no such thing.”
“Come on. A ‘small’ talent show? You couldn’t have mentioned that I was going to perform in front of—”he took a moment to ensure nobody was too close—”these people!?”
She burst into laughter. “I am at a loss for words, honestly. What exactly did you expect? A bunch of janitors and corpse collectors? I can’t tell if you’re serious or if you’re just messing with me.”
Freddy halted at that. Some of the fight left him as he realized that, yes, he actually probably should have expected something like this to happen. He clicked his tongue and scratched the back of his head in irritation. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just really don’t want to be here right now.”
“Then leave?” she offered.
He halted at that. “That sounds like a bad idea.”
“Why would it be so?”
“Because…” He lowered his voice again. “I feel like I would probably offend a number of people here.”
“And?” She chuckled. “I didn’t take you for such a people pleaser. If you want to go, go. Some might regret not getting a chance to suck up to you, but that is their problem, not yours.”
He halted. “Suck up… to me?”
She snorted. “Oh, you’re a riot! Do you even realize why these people are here?”
“Because they like music?”
“Oh I’m sure they do, but that is not why the likes of Lady Narcisse Morleppe would attend an event like this.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Members of high society are always on a lookout for ways to impress others. Many here would quite literally kill to have a talent such as yourself perform at an event they organized. You are a highly valuable asset now.” She straightened her back and raised her head. “Have some pride. You are not here to beg these people for their time.
“They are here to beg you for yours.”