//------------------------------// // Chapter 46: The Final Visit and New Beginnings // Story: The Second Life of Moztrot // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// Istally had grown quite a bit since the last time I visited there. The vineyards on its rolling hills remained the same, trees stood tall and the waters still ran as sweet. Of course, many of its ancient towns and cities had expanded a little, but its ancient houses stubbornly remained. Aside from the modern stores and new restaurants, there were many landmarks that I recognized. From the ruins of the old Pegasi Empire to the standing Opera Houses, it was like returning to the home of an old friend. I will spare you, the reader, the superfluous details of the crowds that welcomed me. While it’s true that I wasn’t born anywhere in Istally, they practically adopted me because of the operas were written in their language. They greeted me by tossing roses into our carriage. Wilfried often griped that the adulation would spoil me after too long. However, I didn’t see the problem. After all, why refuse the gift of fame when the crowd offers it to you? However, we were there for personal business. It was in the north in Milan that the grave of my second son lies. As soon as we arrived in the city, the first thing I did was to order funerary flowers and to search for his grave. It took many hours of asking and looking like even the names of the grave markers had been eroded away by time. I worried that perhaps my efforts in finding my son Karl would be in vain. In the end, it was Clypeus that found it, by nightfall. Tucked in a corner of the graveyard, a tiny marble slab stuck out of the ground. Most of the carvings were unreadable as centuries of rain had worn them down. The only legible things on the stone were the birth year of 784, and the last name of Moztrot. After placing the wreath of roses, I asked to be alone so that I might say a few parting words to my son. Plopping my flank down next to the grave, I placed a hoof on the dry grass. “I know I’m probably the very last pony you’d be expecting to visit your grave. And yes, I do feel guilty for not coming here sooner but couldn’t with all that has happened to me in such a short amount of time. But since I now have the opportunity, I came all this way to make some apologies to you. “Karl… I want to say I’m sorry for not being there for you or your brother. I wished that I had the means to give both of you and your mother the security you needed in the case of my passing. I’m glad to hear that you’d gone to school and got ahold of a stable position; it’s much more than I could say. I know this is a few centuries too late, but I hope that you’re not too angry at an old fool like me.” Sighing, I leaned against the stone wall for support. “Karl… if you can hear me… I just wanted to say that I’m proud of both of you and your brother. If I had lived long enough, I would have supported you regardless of whether you had a passion for music or not. I might not sound like it, but even after coming back to life, I know deep down of all the moments that I’ve missed out on. Such as your first words, your first steps, the first day of school, piano recital – and who knows, maybe your first marefriend if I hadn’t gotten ill. Even with this second chance in life, I know that I will have missed all the moments that are precious to any caring parent. Worst yet, I’m completely powerless to do anything about it except to move on. “But Karl… I think you would have loved it here. I have fame and wealth to the point where I have no idea what to do with it. I have fallen back to Princess Celestia’s good graces. I have a mansion with servants that I’ve come to regard as friends. I create concerts and stage Operas of the highest quality, and I have a small hoofful of students who are genuinely good. That, and the food and drinks are incredible. And the mares are beautiful. It’s a paradise here, but not fully when you, your brother and your mother aren’t here to enjoy it with me.” I stood back up on my forelegs, I didn’t take my eyes off the marble slab. “In the next few days, Karl, I’m going to conduct my finished Requiem in your honor. While I’ve already played it for Franz, your mother and grandfather, your dedication have been long overdue. But until then… I will have to move on. While in truth, I have no idea what is in store for me in the coming years, as long as I have this second life, I’m planning on using it to the fullest. Go to new regions of the world. Write more music. Play often. Fall in love again. And up until the day that I truly die, laugh my head off -- until it does come off.” With a chuckle, I kissed the head of the gravestone. “Until then, goodbye my son. I love you.” Now that I had made my peace, I turned around to head towards the gates of the graveyard where my friends were waiting for me. “All that is left now is the Requiem now, is that so, Wolfgang?” Wilfried asked. I nodded, “After the dedication to Karl, then we go home.” “Fair enough,” Fan said, “but that won’t happen in a few days, what with the national choir and orchestra rehearsing it. But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” “Well, we are in Istally…” I mused. “I think that for all the trouble of dragging all of you about, I should give you the day off.” All four stared at me. “The day off?” Mr. Sauté asked, “As in starting right now, or…” “Yes. The day off. We are in Milan after all. I’ll be going back to the hotel to rest a little; the rest of you should enjoy yourselves. In a place this big, there should be plenty of things to do.” “Certainly you’re not going to be left alone.” Wilfried objected. “I don’t see why not. I’ve managed to do so before.” “It’s one thing to leave you be in Equestria or its capital, it’s another when we’re in a different country.” “If it would be alright,” Clypeus raised a hoof. “I wouldn’t mind staying with him. Look after him while the rest of you enjoy the day off. Besides, I’d like to get to know Wolfgang a little better.” My ears perked up. “What? Like a date?” I smirked. “Well…” she shrugged. “Why not? It would at least give us something to do.” Wilfred, Sauté and Fan looked at one another. My butler nodded, “Ms. Clypeus?” “Yes, sir?” He smiled. “Do look after him and be sure to bring him back to the hotel before dark.” Then to me, he added, “And Wolfgang, do stay out of trouble.” “But of course,” I smiled, “however, let me pick up my violin beforehoof.” “And my clarinet too.” Clypeus smiled. Soon enough, the Changeling, her clarinet, my violin and I were out in the streets, side by side. Treading over the cobblestones and passing by ancient homes down the winding, crooked roads. All the while, neither of us not really paying any attention to where exactly we were going but getting lost in conversation. “So, what about you?” I inquired. She tilted her head, “What do you mean?” “I mean, tell me something about yourself. Who is Clypeus of the Changelings? What are her interests? Her dislikes? How long has she played the clarinet and why did she spontaneously decided to run from the hive and join the servitude of a composer?” “Okay, one thing at a time.” She said before taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, to begin with, I’m twenty-six years old, and just someling who’s trying to figure out herself.” “What does that imply?” “It’s just that, after the fall of Chrysalis, where before we were so used to being told what to do that there wasn’t any time to figure out what exactly we wanted... Before we were drones, we weren’t meant to think, create or learn, we just did. Like standing watch for intruders, or hunting for love, or learning fighting skills in case we had to attack someone. But when King Thorax came, suddenly, we found ourselves free.” “But isn’t that a good thing?” I inquired. “Where I come from, there were many millions that must do what their sovereign said -- or else. Why Prance when I was there had talked of revolution. Which, if my reading on modern history is correct, they ended up freeing themselves from tyranny. The books said that they were overjoyed to get rid of their king.” “Yes, well I don’t know much about that. But what I do know is that once we were free from being told what to do, we all found ourselves asking: ‘Now what?’ Without a control freak to tell you what to do, suddenly you find that you’re not sure what to do with this new freedom. The King said that we should probably start finding our own culture, and the only way to do that, was by looking at others to draw inspiration. And in that way, I was drawn to music.” I nodded as we turned a corner. “That makes sense. But what about interests? What are the things you like?” “Well… I like playing the clarinet, laughing at jokes, looking at the stars on a clear night, watching a sunset, learning new things, listening to records, playing in our band. I guess you might say that I like simple things.” “And the things you don’t like?” She paused for a moment, “That’s kinda a tricky one to be honest.” “Why?” “Well, I know what I like, which is why I always stick around those things. No one, I think, wants to be near the stuff they don’t like, like being caught in the rain or listening to something annoying. It’s one of those things that you have to avoid if you don’t like it.” I nodded. “That’s pretty reasonable. And your clarinet? How long have you been playing it?” She glanced over at the little black case on her back. “I wanna say a year or so after Chrysalis was overthrown… I think? Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping count. But the reason I chose the clarinet was because of the recordings I’ve heard – especially your concerto, the one Ocellus played for you.” “Really?” “Yes. I mean up until then, I never even heard of your name. But when I came across that record, well… I became curious. So I, like my fellow Changelings, tried to get whatever pieces I could find, not just your works but many others. Sure, there are those who like Jazz or Beethoven, but personally, I find your music appealing.” “Oh?” I smiled. “Why?” For a good few minutes, we walked on in silence, as I waited for her reply. “I guess,” she said at last, “it’s because I had a different viewpoint on you.” “How so?” “Many say that your music is all sentimental, full of slow-moving strings from a time that’s all about making everything beautiful and nothing challenging. But from what I’ve heard… yes, it has that, but it would be incorrect to say that’s all there is to it. Because really, there’s more than that. Especially when it comes to the piano. Because there, it’s up close and personal, like having a friend come over for a visit to tell you about how their day has been.” I hummed. “Now I’m curious, what kind of days have I had?” “Well, there were times when you had fun. And other days when it’s been lonely. At times I hear you relax while there are some when I can almost hear you cry.” She paused, glancing over to me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get personal.” “No, don’t be,” I told her as we continued on. “It actually explains why you wanted to learn about playing the keyboard. That being the case… I suppose that if I’m going to teach you, then I don’t think I can do it the same way I taught my students in the past.” “Why not?” “Because when I teach them, I showed them how to play something, not so much how to feel.” At this point, we came across the edge of the city it was open to farmland. The rolling hills of Istally stretched out and the sun bathed the buildings in a bright, orange glow. A wonderful scene, for a wonderful idea. “Here,” I suddenly stopped and put down my violin case, “I’ll show you.” She blinked. “What? Right here? Now?” “Why not?” I shrugged as I unlatched and opened the case. “Oftentimes, explaining how to play with emotion is difficult to put into words.” Taking out my violin and bow, I added, “It has to be experienced.” “Okay…” She sat down and opened up her clarinet case before putting the instrument together. “If you don’t mind, is it possible that maybe you go first? Maybe like play me something to give me an idea.” Thus, I put the instrument underneath my chin, thinking up a tune that I could really work with to help illustrate it for her. “Very well, do you want to know how I see music?” Clypeus tilted her head to the side. “No, but I’m curious.” “Well, most ponies tend to think that us musicians, that all we do, is just play notes that we read off from a sheet of paper. But that’s complete nonsense! To us, regardless what we play on, this violin, isn’t a violin at all, it’s more like a character, an individual; it doesn’t speak the way we do, but you can tell whatever it’s feeling buy the tone it makes. As a composer, whenever I write something, I don’t just see notes. I see these colorful characters engaging in a conversation, an argument, making love, forgiving each other, fighting each other, looking for hope and rejoicing when it’s found. Or… take this moment here. Look at that landscape, that sunset, these ponies around us. I try to imagine, ‘What would a character like a violin think and feel in a place like this?’” “Do you know what it would say?” I smiled as I raised my bow, “Oh, I have a few ideas.” And there, among the glow of the setting sun as I began to play for her with a newfound passion, one that I hadn’t experienced since I was married. Within that performance, a new seed was planted that I could see how I can fully move on. And it started with her.