//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: Lament of the Cellist 
// by EngineerBrony 
//------------------------------//

The young cellist’s mind raced as she paced about her study.
“What if I’m not well received?”
“What if I completely fail?”
“I could never play in this city again...”


Octavia finally forced herself to calm down and take a deep breath.

“There’s no point in getting so worked up over nothing. I’m rumored to be the best classical performer in Canterlot, so why not act the part?”

As convincing as her conscience was, she still had trouble quelling the army of butterflies in her stomach. She could do little more than pace about at a time like this. 

As Octavia checked the clock, she took a slow look around the room, attempting to take her mind off the task at hand. She was in her study, a place of elegance, class, and regality. This was just as she preferred it.
Designed by Octavia herself, it was perfect for her somewhat “unique” tastes.  The room began dark hardwood flooring, polished to a flawless shine. She complemented this with floor to ceiling shelving, made of solid mahogany. This particular piece of furniture is more common in places like law offices, or the quarters of professors at the local university. However, Octavia had not allowed for the same cold feeling to accompany hers. In lieu of identically bound legal tomes, or medical textbooks, She had completely filled these shelves with hundreds of binders and books, all stuffed to the brim with sheet music. It seemed as a mess among order, for trapped in-between these books and binders of music were scraps of parchment, scribbled on by Octavin ha herself. As she played, she wrote down her personal musings and feelings about the piece. As a result, each book contained a small piece of her. Octavia looked at these and smiled gently, remembering all the hours of work she had put into her passion for music. Her eyes then gently drifted to the rest of the study.

Her desk, normally very tidy, had recently gained the appearance of a hurricane. She had been sitting behind it for hours every day for the past several weeks trying to make the arrangements for her performance tonight. Everything had to be perfect. After all, it’s not every day you get invited to perform at the most prestigious hall in Canterlot! She was a professional, and was rumored to be the best classical performer of her time by some. Sadly her talents had remained in the studio up until now. So she had been spending hours upon hours behind her tiny desk, making sure everything was going to go off without a hitch.

Behind her desk was the balcony, one of her favorite retreats in all of Equestria. It contained nothing but a rather comfortable chair, and a breathtaking view. This was a place of inspiration for Octavia. Whenever she was trying to compose and the other things in life were clouding her mind, she could curl up in what felt like her own little corner of the world, and let her nerves rest. This balcony alone made her believe it was worth the outrageously high rent. Octavia lived in the penthouse atop Canterlot’s premium apartment complex,  ‘La Torre D’avorio” 

This view had such an aura about it, maybe being the fact you could see most of Canterlot, or perhaps the fact you could just get away from everything. But most likely, it was the royal Canterlot gardens in their place front and center to the balcony, blooming with life and color. The gardens contained flowers from all around the world, and they seemed to burst forward from every inch of land available to them. These gardens were cut by narrow paths, and while to the visitors it seemed only a path through the garden, Octavia saw them differently. The paths formed an outline of a brilliant sun on the left of the garden, and respectively, a crescent moon on the opposite side. This was no doubt an homage to the two princesses that ruled the country from within the castle’s walls; Solar Princess Celestia, and Princess of the Night, Luna. The royal garden holds a very special place in Octavia’s heart. Over the gardens, the royal palace loomed, in shimmering omnipotence, producing one of the most beautiful views anybody would want to see. Its flawless ivory construction was the most awe-inspiring architectural and artistic feats in Canterlot, the very definition of class, and you could see it all from Octavia’s balcony. 

Finally, the young cellist's eyes rolled to the far corner of the study. She smiled, as she saw her most prized possession. Not a diamond, or a priceless statue, or even a beautiful painting. To Octavia, none of those could even begin to compare. 

Octavia was looking at her cello.

It’s sleek, polished body catching her eyes first, allowing her to gaze deeply into its grain, admiring the swirls and lines that resulted from the way the tree had grown before the cello was crafted. The entire surface of it simply shined with a glow of beauty. Her eyes then shifted onto the strings. She had applied brand new ones several days ago specifically for tonight, and they were far from ordinary. While most cello strings are silver or brass in color, Octavia often custom ordered strings that matched her unique style a bit better, Especially before big performances like tonight’s.  Naturally, they were a mild pink.  The normal f cuts found in most classical instruments were also nowhere to be found, and in their place, were intricate carvings of two treble clefs. The clef was Octavia’s cutie mark, so it was only natural that it had its place on her prized cello. It was perfect for a pony like her, and a pure representation of her devotion in classical music. The remaining change was minute, perhaps even unknown to anybody but the cellist herself. It was a hidden feature of a tuning peg, atop the instrument. At first glance, the four pegs appear normal. However, what made this part of her cello special wasn't the pieces themselves, but the very peculiar inscription left underneath one of them .This was left for Octavia by the pony who purchased the cello many years ago, and gave it to Octavia when she was just a child. Underneath the peg, written in gold, it said simply “Play On” written in a calligraphic flow that seemed to dance gracefully across the peg. Octavia took a final glance at the gold letters, and breathed a deep sigh. The beginning of the concert was fast approaching, and she couldn’t afford to be late. After checking her folder of sheet music to see if it was all in place she gingerly put it all into her cello case, along with the bow and small blue container of rosin. She then gently heaved her beautiful cello into it, and put the entire case gingerly onto her back; Straining slightly under its weight. She had often been told she should take up choir when she was younger, and that a cello was too large for such a lovely young mare to haul around. Leave the orchestra to the stallions, as it had always been. She paid no heed to these suggestions. Octavia loved her cello, heavy or not. She finally did a quick mental checklist, making sure she hadn't let something slip her mind. And sure enough, she had. Her trademark pink bow tie was lying lazily on her desk, trapped under the hurricane of paper. She had worn a tie like this for every major performance since her days as a young child. There was no real rhyme or reason for this. She simply thought it looked....Nice. Octavia quickly ran to a mirror, and tied it around her neck snugly.  Finally satisfied with everything, she took a final glance around, and briskly strolled out of the apartment.

At this moment Octavia left her penthouse, thanking Celestia for the elevator in her building, as she was atop one of the tallest buildings in the fine arts district of Canterlot. As she was leaving the building, crisp autumn air blew into her face, leaving behind the familiar scent of fresh mountain air, and damp leaves. As Octavia made her way past the bustling shops and crowded stores she couldn’t help but notice Luna’s tranquil night envelop the city, allowing a feeling of peace and serenity fall over her as she gazed into the depths of the sky. The blanket of shimmering stars mixed with the solemn violet backdrop made everything on earth seem smaller, and less significant; if only for a moment.

Octavia couldn’t help but almost knocking somebody over walking past her as she took in the sights of the night sky. She wanted to stop and apologize but the person moved away too quickly for her to get a word in edgewise. This made Octavia realize just how packed the streets of Canterlot were, busy people making their way home from a long day of work, or to meet friends over a cup of tea. Whatever the case, the streets were packed. Octavia wondered how many of them were going to be at her performance tonight. With that thought in mind, her stomach flipped once more. She still couldn't believe that she was about to play one of her most important performances to date, and in front of Canterlot’s upper crust no less. 

After a few minutes of brisk trotting, Octavia arrived at the Canterlot Orchestral hall, a stage for classical musicians as old as the capital city itself. This circular building was where mere performers became legends. And tonight, the stage would become exclusively hers. She quickly trotted around the side of the building, found the backstage entrance, took a deep breath, and made her way inside. The air had been relatively quiet before she entered. She had nothing to listen to but her thoughts, the wind nipping at her ears, and the butterflies nipping at her stomach. But upon entering, a myriad of sound drifted unto her ears. The light squealing of a violin, the deep resonating tone of a double bass, and in the background, she could even hear the melodious chirp of a lyre. Musicians were scattered around the stage, getting ready for their performances that prelude Octavia’s. She decided to follow suit. She heaved her cello off her back once more, rubbing them to relieve the mild discomfort of carrying it the several blocks from her penthouse. She then set the shimmering case at her feet, unclasped the metal latch, and gently grabbed her bow and rosin; Applying just the right amount to the ebony hairs running across its thin wooden frame. Soon after, she gave her instrument a long stare, and put it back in the case, afraid to practice. Octavia still felt too nervous to try and play. There was no way she could become truly absorbed into her music right now. She was considered one of the best because she had that ability. She could not only hear music, but feel the emotion behind a particular piece, and transfer it onto her audience. The listeners weren't simply listening to a song; they were having a beautiful work of art painted in their minds. Sadly, Octavia didn't feel like the amazing cellist she was. She felt like a schoolfilly again; nervously performing in front of her impatient Orchestra directors. Octavia wasn't sure she could play with her normal vigor and skill. She wasn't even entirely sure she could keep her knees from buckling. 

Octavia just sat backstage, listening to the sounds of the hall swirl around her. It began with the sound of the audience arriving, the clambering of citizens taking their seats. Then soon after, the opening performance. She sat solemnly, listening to music creep under the curtain while other the performers took center stage. And finally, the moment she had been awaiting came when the event coordinator walked up to her.

“Octavia Phillaharmonica?”

“Yes?”

“Your solo is scheduled next, if you would please allow me to have your instrument.  Be ready for your cue, stage left.”

“Already?” Octavia gasped.


“Yes. I know you may be nervous about performing here, but now is neither the time nor place for such emotion, Miss Phillaharmonica. Your cue will be in roughly five minutes, Be ready. The instrument and  and a chair will be waiting onstage for you.”

“Thank you.” Octavia muttered, attempting to mask the slight wobble in her voice, whether it be from anxiety or anger towards the coordinator, she was unsure.

Octavia slowly handed the beautiful instrument to the coordinator and watched as she shuffled out of sight, hooves clicking sharply with each step. She then straightened her tie, put on her best stoic expression, and walked to the left stage entrance. After only a few final minutes of performing, the Canterlot Orchestra that was currently onstage all arose from their chairs and began to take a deep bow as the deep red curtain inched to a close in front of them. Soon after, a frenzy of stage crew stormed the scene, removing the orchestra’s chairs and instruments in a matter of seconds, and leaving behind only single chair and Octavia’s cello. She then felt a very cold hand tap her on the shoulder. Another coordinator met her eyes as she spun around. With no real instructions necessary at this point, a quick nod told Octavia to take her place on the stage as the curtains inched open once more. She sat down, positioned her cello to her liking on her shoulder, grabbed her bow gently in her right hand, and took one final deep breath as the curtain inched open. 
The air held still, the audience seemingly holding their breath while waiting for Octavia to begin her solo. She was stricken by thousands of eyes, all expectantly waiting for the cellist to dazzle them. Not an easy task for any crowd, nonetheless a crowd of people well versed in classical music. After a moment of awkward silence, she began to panic. Her brain was screaming “Play!” but her arms and hands simply wouldn't respond. The silence hung in the air as Octavia’s breathing became heavy and fast. She was only seconds away from fainting. She could almost feel the energy draining out of her body, and her music career along with it. 

Right before her heart  and brain reached their respective limits, she noticed a small glimmer out of the corner of her eye. It was a tiny inscription, written in gold, dancing across one of her pegs.

“Play On”

At that very moment, something inside Octavia simply, clicked.

All of her fear and worry left her body in one glorious moment as the words rang throughout her head over and over again. She had probably read that tiny inscription a million times. But it wasn’t until now that she fully understood what it meant. 

Octavia looked up and smiled, ever so slightly, an aura of confidence and happiness now surrounding her slender frame. She then raised her bow to the pale pink strings, and began pouring notes from her cello with a glimmer in her eyes to rival the sun itself.