“Can I ask all of you a question?” Inverno asked.
In the dining car, six composers looked up from their plates. Except for Paganeighni eating at the bar, the other five sat down together at a table with Professor Key Signature joining them. The colt himself sat next to Shining that was crammed together next to these colorful group.
“Well certainly,” Moztrot smiled warmly, “but if you’re going to be asking for this squash then I’m not sharing.”
Schubit rolled his eyes.
“It’s actually a personal question,” Inverno said. “I know that you’ve noticed how different things are now, but I was wondering, is there anything all of you missed where you come from?”
“Well, fame for one.” The dark griffon answered. Paganeighni swings around on the barstool. “I don’t know much of any of you, but if there’s anything I missed, it’s playing to a theater of screaming mares. Hopefully one of these days you should allow me to put on a show to a full-size audience.”
“To show off?” Vifilli asked dryly.
“That too. But I’m a natural entertainer; I’m nothing without an audience. I actually enjoyed performing tricks to an adoring public. Such as having the strings break on purpose, so I have to play on one string. Improvise a concerto. Have mares swoon to a soothing melody. Things like that. Still…” He sighed, “It’s rather disheartening that very few know who I am anymore.”
“But you had a very successful career.” The professor pointed out.
“I did. Having an early career is a gift of the gods, the rest is hard work.” He said before picking up a bottle and downing it.
Inverno turned back to the table, over to Maneler. “What do you miss most?”
Maneler looked over towards the translucent walls of the train. By now, they were flying across the small meadows sandwiched between mountains. Forests of pine just above them and the grass that danced with the wildflowers below near a stream. “Among other things, I miss the freedom to walk through the forest. I missed the solitude of nature – the quiet of it all. I love it so much that three times I constructed huts just to compose in peace.”
Schubit nodded. “I can relate in some ways. I too preferred to write when I’m among the grass, the rocks, and the trees. It’s as if time itself stands still when you’re surrounded by green. I think when I’m alone next to a stream like that over there, is when I’m at my happiest.”
“I understand perfectly.” Maneler nodded. “When I was a crazy young stallion who let himself be blinded by his passions and obeyed the impulses of the moment; the only place I always wanted to live is in a forest. I admit that I never grew out of that desire, if anything, I’m still drawn to it as an old stallion.”
Inverno nodded. “What about you?” He asked Moztrot.
“Ooh, where do I start?” the earth pony leaned back, his forehooves behind his head. “I missed good wine, the fine meals, my red overcoat with the golden buttons, the ability to travel freely, having my works being performed to the public, being able to perform, my wife, two colts, the cat, and being able to drop manure in a bucket.”
The last statement got a spit take from those within earshot. Shining tried (too late) to try to cover Inverno’s ears. “What they hey! Not in front of the kid!”
“Believe it or not,” the Professor informed, “it’s actually very much in character for him. He is known for a love of fart jokes, poop jokes and uh… copulation jokes.”
“That’s because I know how to live.” Moztrot laughed. “I have a rule that I must have my time that’s half work and half parties. It keeps one from becoming a mushroom.”
Buch tilted his head. “A what?”
“A mushroom. One that sits in the same spot collecting moisture, is a bore unless you sprinkle some salt on it.”
“That’s a strange metaphor.” Schubit raised an eyebrow.
“All I insist on, and nothing else, is that one should show the whole world that you are not afraid to speak one’s mind. Be silent, if you choose; but when it is necessary, speak – and do so in a way that ponies will remember it.”
“The nutjob has a point,” Paganeighni commented.
“Why thank you!” Moztrot waved a hoof.
Clearing his throat, the Professor spoke up for the first time. “So that would leave you two, Mr. Buch and Vifilli, what do you miss the most?”
Buch picked up his mug of cider. “I suppose a lot of things. The small uncomplicated towns, how time seems to slow down, the reverence in music. I missed being an organist to take stale hymns and turn them into something worthy of Celestia. This land is completely different from the one I know with machines, and concerts to the point where little is recognizable. However, I suppose the thing I missed the most is my family. My wife was good to me, my surviving children were gifted musically, and even when things turned sour, we still had each other. Like the time I went to prison.” The table became very quiet. “What?”
“You went to prison?” Shining spoke what everyone was thinking.
“For trying to quit.” The green Pegasus took a gulp of his mug. “Years ago, I was used to be employed by a duke; a miserable stallion who was strong-headed. He treated us musicians horribly, and more so to his own family. In fact, the way he treated his nephew was enough to tell him that I was quitting. So, for that, he threw me into the castle jail for several months. Ach, it was hard on my family that I couldn’t support them for a time, but once I was set free, the first thing we did was move.” He turned to the priest. “But enough about me, what about you?”
Vifilli didn’t hesitate. “Venice. It’s the only place in the world that I would consider home. I’ve been to a few cities in my time, but above all else, it is the most beautiful in the world.”
“How come?” Inverno asked.
“Oh, where do I start? For one, the place where I was born, is a city that is built on several dozen islands where the streets are canals. Filed with water that’s right next to the sea. It is a city of mystery and beauty where you could go about anonymously on a gondola. But it’s also a place where, in my day, is the most artistic place in the world where I helped pioneered music to be played and sing underneath the painted domes of houses of worship. That, and the opera house too.” He added with a proud smirk.
“A priest that writes opera?” Schubit raised an eyebrow. “Is that even allowed?”
“It was as long as I don’t promote my work during the sacred services. However, I did get in trouble with the high priest when they found out that my operas were being performed in Venice.” He huffed. “But back then… Oh, I had the best orchestra that I could ask for.”
“The Vailed Orphans Choir and Orchestra.” The Professor said.
Vifilli chuckled. “Ah, I see that their reputation is still remembered after all these years.”
“I only have known about it through history books.” Key Signature confessed. “At their height, they were known to sing like angels and were a professional orchestra playing in cramped conditions. Apparently, they did everything. Including, astonishingly enough, singing the tenor and bass parts of the choir.”
Shining tilted his head. “Why is that astonishing?”
“Because they’re all mares,” Vifilli explained. “I should know, I taught them. They were quite the talented group that could pull off even the most difficult of tasks. A few of the singers had trained their voices to go so low that many were often mistaken to be stallions! In fact, I’ve taught a few virtuosos that ranged from playing the violin to be on the same compacity of my skills to singing like angles.”
This piqued Inverno’s interest. “Can you teach me to sing like that?”
Vifilli chuckled. “Well, I don’t know young one. You seem to be at the age where that high voice should be cracking.”
“No it isn’t, listen.” Inverno sang out a short scale of notes. His voice was not only in perfect pitch but to the composer’s bewilderment, it was unusually high. To their ears when Inverno gave them a sample of his singing capabilities, what they heard didn’t sound like a young child; nor did it sound like a soprano or counter-tenor. It was a rare, pure sounding range of vocals. “I want to know if I can improve what I know.”
Vifilli blinked. “Are you… a castrato?”
“Sorry?”
Shining coughed. “Uh… Mr. Vifilli, a word.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing just… need to talk to you really quick.”
He and the prince got up from their seats, and Vifilli followed Shining towards the direction of the engine towards the private royal car. Inside, Spike and Twilight were organizing notes while the latter pony was scanning through several books at once.
“You’re already eaten, Twilie?” Shining asked.
“Yeah, I’m just complying notes comparing the biographies of the composers.”
“Oh… well, should we go someplace else or-”
“I don’t think you’ll be bothering us,” Spike said, placing another bundle of parchment in a pile.
Shining paused for a moment, “Actually since you’re both here, I think you’d probably want to hear this too.” The prince turned towards the red priest. “Look, Mr. Vifilli, I know by now you’ve probably have figured out about my son’s… condition.”
“You didn’t have him-”
“No,” Shining said firmly. “His previous father did. But he doesn’t know the full extent of what him being a… what was the word you used?”
“Castrato?”
“That. The thing is that I don’t know if he’s old enough yet to process what has been done to him. I doubt he knows that he’s been… well… castrated, so I can only assume that this might be a very sensitive topic.”
Vifilli’s ears folded back. “That poor colt.”
“Shining,” Twilight asked, looking up from her research, “can I ask you a personal question?” He told her that she can. “I know he’s practically a teen now, so did you ever take him aside to give him… The Talk?”
“How exactly would I do that? How would I explain it to a guy that’s uh…” He nervously looked over to Spike that raised an eyebrow. “Missing some parts.”
“I can’t believe that barbaric practice is still being used,” Vifilli commented.
“That's because it isn’t.” Shining explained. “His father, Sombra did it to him for several reasons, but just so you know he did it before the Crystal Empire vanished.”
The priest raised an eyebrow. “Ah… So the colt has more in common with us than I thoug-”
“Aren’t we getting off-topic?” Twilight interrupted.
“Right.” Shining nodded. “Point is to be more careful around him is all.” He turned to his sister. “And giving Inverno the talk should be reserved to when he’s old enough.”
Vifilli couldn’t sleep. Although most of the other composers have gone to bed at this point, thoughts about what had happened were still possessing him to be kept awake. No matter how much he tried to get comfortable in the gentle rocking of the train, or try to ignore the snores from Schubit, he could not simply fall asleep.
Eventually, he got up and gently walked over to the observation deck. With only the light of the moon to illuminate the darkness of the passing forest in a dark blue light, the priest sat down on a cushion. In contemplation, he looked above the sifting dark pines towards the stars that loomed over. Closing his eyes, he held his forehooves together towards his forehead before he began to pray. Gently and softly speaking above a whisper as to not to awake the others.
“Oh Devine Celestia, Bringer of Dawn and Life, watch over us this night as we sleep and to bring about your golden orb at dawn. Bring peace to our troubled thoughts and guide our worries towards happiness. Do not let your eye of light be blinded to our plight of being lost to time. Assist us with your truth to soothe the woes that plague us. Shine your light upon the wicked (Paganeighni comes to mind) and be patient with them to open their eyes. Comfort the suffering that is in your care to console them that their pain shall not be forever. Give the weary rest so that we shall see a new dawn. Amen.”
Opening his eyes again, once again, nothing seemed to change before he closed his eyes. His gaze returning to the twinkling lights in silence, until he heard hoofsteps coming from behind.
“You can’t sleep either?” It was Buch.
The priest shook his head. “This day has given me much to consider. These strange powers, all of you, and the colt.”
“You mean Inverno?”
He nodded. “On top of finding out that he was castrated for the sake of music, he’s also like us too. That he is displaced out of time.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“You know of the legend of the Crystal Empire? Not only it’s actually true, but I found out that the child is the son of Sombra. I assume that that would make him the oldest out of all of us.”
“Oh good, I was beginning to think that I’m more ancient than I’m already am.” He chuckled. “But back to what I was going to ask, what were you doing?”
“Praying.” The red stallion replied. “Something that I should probably do more of in this strange world.”
“I don’t blame you.” Buch sat down next to him. “When I woke up in the city of Vanhoofer, I was confused, scared even of being in a place that I’m unfamiliar with. New cities, new ponies with new ideas. Being out on the street, I felt so paralyzed that I prayed until I fell asleep.”
“At least they were answered. I mean, look where we are.”
Buch shook his head. “I didn’t pray for food or shelter. At first, I prayed for having my family be safe. I was supporting a large family when I was dying; when I awoke, my thought wasn’t concerned if I was remembered or that I was taken care for. Rather, I wanted my family to be safe. I stopped when I realized that I’m in another century.”
Vifilli nodded. “Are you haunted by them still?”
The green stallion thought it over for a moment, looking at the moon. “In my lifetime, I had sired twenty children, seven of which survived and had two wives with the first passing away. I am indeed haunted. My parents had passed away by the time I was ten years old. My brothers and sisters were sent to the grave, along with the fellow musicians that I had worked with. No matter how much it happens or to who, it’s still sad to face that the one you’ve gotten to know, even loved, dies. Now that everyone I ever know has passed on except for me, it’s been quite lonely as of late.
“With that Inverno, however, it’s strange to say that I’ve only known him for about a day, but in a strange way, he reminds me of my children.”
“How so?”
“Well, my sons, they too have an interest in music, like him. They even want to compose, just like him. From what I’ve seen from his playing, his composition and a little bit of singing – I see within him the same potential of great talent to be cultivated.”
“That I must agree.” The priest nodded. “He is enthusiastic about learning from all of us. So much so that he used some sort of magic to bring us all back. Although what he see’s in Paganeighni, I’ll never know. But I suppose that he reminds me of my students.”
“Yes, I recall you mentioning teaching orphans.”
“To me, it’s clear that he has talent also. But for me, I see him as a potential student if he wants to learn further on singing or picking up a string instrument. Maybe if we stop somewhere and get a violin, I could teach him how to play if he wants.”
“I see.” Buch nodded. Thinking for a moment before asking, “What about you? What are you haunted by?”
Vifilli scratched the back of his head. “If I’m being honest. There is somepony that I do miss. I had a father that passed away when I was alive. He taught me the violin and showed me how to be a natural showpony. Even after I joined the priesthood, he promoted us far and wide as virtuoso violinists. I wouldn’t be a composer without him, especially when it also benefited the orphans that they play and sang what I wrote.”
“Was he ever good to you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. He did all he could for me up until he died. He took care of the financial issues, and at one point we were successful enough to have a piezo on the grand canal. But after he passed away... things started to fall apart. He kept me stable and once I didn’t have that... well, I ended up in poverty.”
The two composers paused, looking up at the stars and the passing trees.
“Perhaps it’s divine providence that we’ve been given a second chance,” Buch said. “To do what, I don’t know. But perhaps now all of us have been given a clean slate where we could shape our lives into something more fulfilling. The child has given us that opportunity, so perhaps we shouldn’t waste time and use it to leave a legacy behind that would extend beyond our work.” Getting up, Buch told him that he was going to bed.
Vifilli told him that he would do the same but spent a long time in thought looking at the stars before feeling the least bit tired. Before he went to bed, he looked up at the moon, uttering a promise. “I won’t fail you again, father.”