Inverno’s Opus in A Minor

by CrackedInkWell

21: Thank You Mr. Vifilli in A Major

“You know, out of all the unexpected things to happen in the past couple of days that I’d never thought would happen…” Paganeighni raised his claws, still in hoofcuffs. “Getting arrested isn’t one of them.”

Vifilli glared at him from across the table and said nothing. In the dining car of the crystal train, they were moving northward and were heading towards a place called Manehattan. Nearby them, two of the Crystal Guard stood at attention to make sure they don’t try to escape. Not that they could anyway, both of their cuffs were attached to a little crystallized pillar that held the table up.

“Don’t give me that look.” The griffin said. “You’re just as guilty as I am. That green Pegasus fellow was right about you.”

“Me?”

“You could have let me just rant and let you be the big colt to be mature enough to not started tearing up the town yourself. Look what it cost you. You’ve lost your lovely piece of flank-”

“Shut up!” The red stallion slammed his free hoof on the table. “I already have it up to the moon with your snarky, pessimistic attitude!”

“My, my, look who’s talking.” Paganeighni slumped back in his seat, unamused. “The holier than thou priest who would rather let the whole world go to Tartarus than to confront his own demons. To not admit to himself that this or that sin is oh-so-appealing but couldn’t so much as dip the tip of hoof in because some uptight cult said otherwise. Sure, I might be a sinner, but at least I admit it! I don’t pretend to have this unreachable standard that convinces me that I’m better than everyone.”

“Oh? And you think that living recklessly makes you any better?” Vifilli questioned. “Of course, I sometimes fall into lust, but I don’t flaunt it about like a new coat. I don’t womanize after every mare that walks along by doing cheap tricks on an instrument that makes it sound like the final moments of a cat!”

“Ladies, you’re both pretty!” Interrupted a new voice. The two of them turned to Shining Armor and a unicorn mare beside him. “Now if you’re done bickering and blaming, I’d like to have a word with both of you.”

“Who is this?” Vifilli pointed a hoof to the mare.

“Twilight Sparkle. I’m here to offer up a second to help determine what’s going to happen to you two after that stunt you pulled in my town.” Her horn lit up, and a pile of blank paper and a quill hovered nearby. “Plus, I do want to study this unique kind of magic that I saw. I’ve never come across anything like it where it could alter reality so much since Discord.”

“Due to us?” Paganeighni raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I guess it all really depends on the both of you,” Shining answered. “If either of you has this much violent tendency to set fires and bring about storms, I can throw the two of you in prison and I won't lose any sleep over it. Just from the damage alone. However, since there were lives that were threatened and nearly killed in that stunt, your punishments would be much worse.”

Vifilli’s eyes widen and ears perked up in alarm. “You’re not going to…”

“Knowing my brother,” Twilight said, “that is the last thing he would go for unless there's no other option. Especially if it's deserved. I mean, being arrested for arson and the destruction of property are very minor things. I made sure that nopony was hurt before we left so... both of you got lucky. Doubly so since Buch was able to restore everything back to normal.”

“Regardless,” Shining added, “it gives more reason to why such individuals like yourselves should be found as quickly as possible.”

This got a raised eyebrow out of the black griffin. “You mean we’re not alone?”

“Far from it. To make a long story short - my son has cast a forbidden spell because he wanted friends and, well... you're the ones he chose. You might notice that he summoned up dead composers to give them a second life. But doing so brought about consequences that need to be quickly located and contained as soon as possible.”

“Dead… composers…?” The priest repeated. The two hoofcuffed creatures looked at one another with this revelation.

“Now it’s starting to make sense,” Paganeighni commented, placing a free talon on his forehead. “We were confused about what year this was. I thought it was 840, while he 741.”

Twilight took notes of this. “I’ve noticed this too with the others on this train. Each of them had thought that it was a different year. But running through your biographies, it would appear that the last year you remember, was when you uh… passed away.”

“Huh…” The griffin scratched his head. “So where does that leave us now, us dead folk?”

“For that, I’m going to give you the same choice I gave Schubit.” Shining told them. “You could either keep fighting and resisting and you’ll be sent to a more secure place in the Crystal Empire - may be worse than that if needed.”

“Or?” Asked Vifilli.

“You could come with us to find the rest, and possibly try to subdue those that might go out of control with their magic. You’ll still be placed under constant guard, of course. But to an extent, you’ll still have some freedom to move about with supervision.”

Paganeighni leaned back. “Suppose we say yes to this whole quest thing, who exactly are we trying to find? Last I’ve counted, there are six of us here. So, who are the other half that’s missing?”

Twilight flipped through her notes. “I doubt you’ve heard some of them. There’s Lully, Beethooven, Horseshoepin, Liszt, Tchaicoltsky, and Debussy.”

“Yes, I don’t think I’ve heard…” The griffin paused; his eyes widen. “Wait! Did you say Beethooven?!”

“Who?” Vifilli asked.

Ignoring the question, Paganeighni lunched forward (or at least as far as his cuffs would let him) at Shining Armor. “Are you telling me, that they resurrected Beethooven the great!?”

“The truth is we don’t know where he is, or the rest for that matter.” Shining explained. “All we do know is where they most likely are at in Equestria. If either of you decides to join our search, you’ll be pardon by the crown for your service.”

Both stallion and griffon looked at one another, and they both made their decision. “As long as I don’t have to stand anywhere near him, we should be fine,” Vifilli said.

“Agreed.” Paganeighni nodded. “Now can you uncuff me? I see several rows of bottles with my name on them. After all, I have hundreds of years of drinking to make up for.”

Vifilli rolled his eyes. The hoofcuffs were at least undone and they were free. “I want to get to know of the other ponies on this train if that’s alright.”

“Actually, that’s perfect,” Twilight said. “I was hoping to compile some notes between all of you. For the sake of research, of course.”

“As long as it gives me distance from this lunatic…”

The two of them made their way towards the very back of the train where instead of hearing music, it was oddly quiet. Walking into the final car, they notice that the other composers were with Inverno on the observation deck, seemingly deep in conversation. The closer they got, the more they could pick up on what the discussion was on. The colt moved one of the low tables where a manuscript was splayed out and the other composers above him seem to be giving him some pointers.

However, the only one that was outside of this group was the Professor, flipping through sheet music.

“What are you doing?” Twilight asked.

“This… This is beautiful.” He said. “Did you know that when Buch was writing a fugue that was a play on his name but passed away before he could finish it? Here… He finished it.”

“Let me see that.” Key Signature offered the music up and Twilight brought it close to her in her magic. “When was this made?”

“Days ago, before we found him. It’s incredible to me, that Inverno has indeed resurrected their minds to the point where they can create again. But I’m afraid I’m getting off-topic. Who is this?”

“Uh yes! Professor, this is Mr. Vifilli.”

The red priest nodded. “Sir.”

“Ah!” The Professor got up and shook hooves with him. “Another genius to be amongst us. Oh, I’m honored to have you here.”

“You know of my work?”

“Oh quite!” he laughed. “You’re an innovator, a pioneer of sorts! You pushed music to new heights.”

Vifilli sighed in relief. “It’s good to know that my labors haven’t been entirely forgotten by time. Tell me, who are they?” he pointed a hoof at those that were on the observation deck.

“I’m afraid you most likely have never heard of them, they come from different time periods, but they’re all like you. Innovated composers in their own right. The young one there, he’s responsible for bringing you all back. His name is Inverno, and he’s a fanatic of yours.”

“Oh?”

“But why not you go and meet him? He’s looking forward to getting to know you.”

With a nod, he, Twilight, and the Professor opened the sliding door into the middle of a conversation.

“I don’t think this section for bar forty-four is necessary.” Schubit pointed at a particular part of the manuscript. “It seems that it overrides the lyrical melody.”

“Maybe so, but I for one like what he’s doing with the horns,” Maneler commented. “They’re not overwhelming the theme but give it a nice balance.”

“I think he should keep it intact,” Moztrot said.

Inverno looked up from his pencil. “Why’s that?”

“Look here,” the earth pony pointed further down the manuscript, “the way I see it, this is only a buildup to your first crescendo here. If this were taken out, there would be no momentum.”

“To a degree, I can see that.” Buch nodded. “If you ask me, I think that there could be more in the wind section. Mr. Schubit is right that this is a little out of balance, but with just the right notes it should be able to counterpoint it into something more coherent.”

“Are we interrupting something?” Twilight asked, getting their attention.

“Not at all,” Inverno said looking up. “They were just giving me ideas for…” He trailed off when his cat-like eyes spotted the red stallion. “Is that…?”

“Inverno,” the professor said, “I’d like to introduce to you the priest and composer, Antonio Vifilli.”

“Hello-” was as far as the red stallion got before he was tackled to the ground by the colt, babbling a series of lightning-paced strings of unintelligible random praises that no one could decode. Twilight had to lift him off of him to loudly clear her throat.

“Inverno,” she told him, “I know you’re excited, but first, let him breathe.” He does so. “Good. Take a moment of what you’re going to say, and then speak it.”

“Sorry.” Twilight sat him down. “It’s just…”

Quickly recovering from the sudden outburst, the Priest sat up on his hunches. “It’s just what – little one?”

After taking several breaths, the colt told him. “You’re the first composer that I was ever taught. You showed me not just what music could be, but what it could be capable of. In a way, you opened doors for me that I didn't think was possible. Because in some way, you were the gateway for me of learning and getting to know all of them. And personally, you were my first source of inspiration for something that goes beyond kings. I was once blind to what music was, and when I was introduced to your work, I could see what was possible. There’s so much I’d like to say, but the most important thing to tell you…” He bowed his head. “Thank you, Mr. Vifilli.”

The Pegasus smiled and patted his head. “This is appreciated to hear that I’m still remembered in some way.”

Buch went around the table. “Vifilli? Ah, so we meet at last.” He shook his hoof. “My name is Johann Buch. I remember your music when I was alive, you made quite the impression on me in how I composed.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “I remember the count I worked for at one point got ahold of a concerto of yours, the one for four violins and an orchestra. I recall it for being a breath of fresh air from the usually stale music that was played. Personally, I loved it so much that I had it arranged for the organ and four harpsichords.”

Vifilli blinked. “I'm honored. So where are all of you from? I and my… forced companion hail from Istally.”

“Germane.”

“Auspuria.” Answered Moztrot.

“Same.” Schubit raised a hoof.

“Chekz,” Maneler said. “We seem to be quite a diverse group. Although I have a question for you. That griffin fellow, who is he supposed to be?”

Vifilli frowned. “Paganeighni, and the most intolerable creature I’ve had the misfortune of knowing.”

The deer’s eyes widen. “The violinist? Here?”

“Drinking away at this point and prefer to not interact with him for the remaining of this… search party? Yes.”

“Hey! You can have fun with us!” Moztrot said. “We can play games, invent new operas, fart in each other’s fac-”

“Are you always this constantly annoying?” Schubit interrupted.

“Oh, lighten up.” Moztrot wrapped a hoof around him. “If we’re gonna be carried away on this contraption from one place to another finding other fellows that could sporadically change reality by recalling our music, we might as well have some fun.”

“I’d prefer to write in peace.”

“So do I, but as they say, all work and no play makes Schubit a dull colt.”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” Twilight suggested. “Setting a schedule of when to be left alone to compose and when to have fun. If you all want, I can help with that. I’m very good at balancing multiple schedules at once. But for now,” she held up a quill and paper, “if you don’t mind, I have some questions to ask all of you.”

---

Liszt loved this. Sure, he wasn’t performing in a music hall in time to the erratic shrieks of screaming of mares that the police have to hold back while he plays – but this was nice. Lunch hour was crowded with hungry customers and sighing mares that looked on. There something about this simplicity, of how small this passing audience was that provided the right amount of balance of the challenge of keeping their attention and crowd control that he liked.

Although he didn’t mind falling back on the work that he knows by heart, there was a part of him that was craving for something more challenging. As much as he didn’t mind playing the stuff that would be a crowd-pleaser, he wanted to try his hoof at something new. Something that he hadn’t done in a while.

As he brought one etude to an end, he spied from one of the tables a group of mares where a waiter brought to the table a slice of cake with a lit candle on top. He was about to ignore this and try to think up what to play this when he heard singing that was coming from that table.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Misty! Happy birthday to you!”

Most in the restaurant ignored the tune entirely as they were focused on their sandwiches and soups. However, for Liszt, the simple melody rang in his ear long after the candle was blown out. Dissecting the notes inside and out, slapping harmonies across the imaginary bars in his mind. In front of him, he could see the notes themselves that were arranged before him. Then, he began to play.

The first thing he did was to play a few bars that get their attention, a loud set of cords, a quick cascade of notes that tumble downward, and then quiet but steady pacing of arpeggios. He smiled when he played the birthday theme in which he got a few chuckles out of them. ‘Perfect,’ he thought, ‘a tune that everypony knows. This ought to be interesting.’

After playing the establishing theme, he decided to turn this simple, childish tune into something sublime. Much to the curiosity and astonishment of the restaurant, he gave this recognizable melody and bestow dignity to it. He used it as a baseline to create poetry from it. Like a painter using one color, he masterfully at the right moments drew a landscape that could be the setting to a fairytale. It was airy and full of light, but the darker notes still have the right touch of mystery to this soundscape.

He allowed the theme to not stay in one place, but let it wander off to explore like a child in awe of its natural beauty of the piano. He allowed it to go to every black and white key on the instrument but never allowed it nor his listeners to get completely lost. He let his hooves weave through the misty forest of notes, the silent lakes of bars and climbed up mountains of key signatures – all the while giving the illusion that nothing happened at all!

Liszt smiled as he would see a foal at play. In that moment of the restaurant, he adopted the theme as his own to go where it may and be as playful as it wished to be. Such magnificent innocence this music has, like foalhood captured in musical form that he wished that he had a child just like this. Of course, the theme seems to roughhouse a bit when he got towards the end, but even then, he knew that it was in no danger at all, but simply having fun.

‘That reminds me,’ he thought to himself, ‘I got to get Fryderyk to go out to seek something fun to do. Maybe to one of those dance halls or a fair of some sort. In a city like this, one should find something to do.’

By the time he finished his improvisation on a playful note, it was met with applause.