Inverno’s Opus in A Minor

by CrackedInkWell

7: Frosty Nocturne in E# Minor

“Professor, can I ask you a question?”

The elderly stallion in his pajamas looked down from brushing his teeth, he held up a hoof before spitting into the sink. “Involving what?”

“The place we’re going to, Sire’s Hollow. Did anything… I don’t know… bad happened Maneler to there?”

Professor Key raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I went over to the back of the train to check up on him and give him the leftover cupcakes. We were talking, and he asked where we were going next. When I told him, he seemed rather… upset.”

“Upset?” Inverno turned his head towards the bunk beds in which Shining closed the book he was reading, craning his neck over. “How?”

Inverno shrugged. “I don’t know, like… Part angry and part sad at the same time. He wouldn’t tell me why. All he did was he told me to leave. So… Do you have any idea why he might be?”

“Let me think…” After rinsing out his mouth and spitting it out, he replied. “With Sire’s Hollow... there were two composers that once lived there, but not for very long. The first was Schubit that he lived with a friend for about a year. The other was Maneler where he had a summer home by a lake – he and his wife stayed there for about three years until… Oh…”

“Oh?” Shining asked, “What’s ‘Oh?’ Is it something we should be concerned about?”

“.... That depends. Because the last summer he spent there with his family, his daughter passed away.”

“You think that could be the reason?” Inverno asked.

“Well… His daughter died a fever, slowly and painfully. Neither he nor his wife ever fully recovered from their loss. And I don’t think he returned to Sire’s Hollow since then.”

Shining raised a hoof, “So are we sure it’s a good idea to bring him along then? I mean, considering what happened earlier, if his emotions get riled up to a certain point, who’s to say what could happen.”

“But Prince Shining,” the Professor went up to the bunk beds, “you must look at his point of view. We’re returning to a place that was part of a tragic chapter in his life. Every biography agrees that he was too distraught that he was never there for the burial and, his own letters say that he felt guilty for not doing so. I think that perhaps this would be good for him while we search for our next composer. I will still bring him along so he would be given a chance for closure.”

“And how will he accomplish that?” Shining questioned. “By triggering his magic to possibly turn Sire’s Hollow into a graveyard? We don’t fully know if it will happen or what he might be capable of doing.”

“This has nothing to do with his magic!” Key shouted but paused to take a deep breath before calmly saying: “My apologies, Your Highness. But you mustn’t look at someone like Maneler as a dangerous creature. He has the mind of a pony long ago. I mean – if, heavens forbid, if something happened to Inverno or Flurry, that you spent years grieving over the death of a child but wasn’t strong enough to show up at their funeral... Shining, if given a second chance to possibly confront that grief, do you want that chance be denied to you?”

Shining didn’t respond. He looked over to his adopted son, with scenarios of such a thing happening running through his mind. With a sigh, he flipped over. “Only if I had a guard go with him. Closure or no, everyone like him mustn't be left alone. I’ll be sure to assign someone to look after him, just in case.”

---

In Applewood, the streets are lit as brightly as the day. Signs of neon, street lamps, bright advertisements, spotlights, and flashing screens of dancing promotions. Tchaicoltsky was still amazed at how noisy everything gets, even when after the sun goes down. Everyone was talking, laughing, coughing, swearing, complaining, and remarking from every step he took. Even at some places that advertised as clubs, the very bricks vibrated an electrical tone cacophony. Here the wheels of traffic from the middle of the street. There a street musician strangling a demonic-sounding guitar on a corner sidewalk. In front of him, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Behind, a confusion of faces going in seemingly every direction.

‘If anyone at home saw this,’ he thought as he trotted across the street, ‘they might be horrified by the lack of dignity about it. The shops in the city alone would cause a scandal or ten.’ He walked past boutiques in which the store mannequins have displayed a sale of swimsuits in which many of them had on very few pieces of clothing. ‘These ponies, for example, couldn’t be subtle if they advertised for loincloths. But what could I expect in this foreign city?’

Among the rolling hills and its towering, shining structures, it’s a boulevard of markets, Tchaicoltsky noticed that every so often, there would be thin gaps between these buildings that were dark and dirty. His common sense told him to stay clear from such opening as if they could–

“Help!” He froze as he heard a scream. “Somepony help!”

The cry was coming from an alleyway not too far from him. Tchaicoltsky rushed over to see in the dim light four ponies with one on the ground, pressed up to a brick wall. In his shock, he recognized that the one who was pinned down was Dr. Assurance. The other three that loomed over him had a piece of folded fabric in his teeth while the other two were pressing the doctor down, throwing punches at him.

On the one hoof, Tchaicoltsky was paralyzed in fear and uncertainty of what to do. He knew in an instant that he wouldn’t stand a chance fighting them. While he had no weapon on hoof, at first, he thought about dropping his disguise to use his fangs. Yet, doing so risked revealing himself to be a monster to the same one that showed him kindness the other day.

But as they beat the doctor, his mind was screaming at him to do something. “S-Stop.” His voice came out meek but then turned into a shout. “Stop it! Leave him alone!”

Just as he was about to regret it, the three attackers turned to look at him. One of them, a unicorn that was made out of muscles approached him. Tchaicoltsky instantly felt like a little colt compared to this intimidating giant.

“Say’s who?” He asked slowly in a growl.

“M-Me.” The composer stuttered. “Leave him alone.”

The three of them laughed. “Or what? What will you do?” The unicorn shoved him over against a brick wall. “You’re just a bum with no muscle. No weapons. No magic. And no backup.” Tchaicoltsky saw a hoof being raised and in the split second, he closed his eyes and tried to cover his face before the wrecking ball of a hoof could hit him. But at the very height of his fear of him becoming a victim, something within him like ice exploding from the inside, and the wintry frost covered the ground and wall behind him. On top of that, there was a sound of something that was both familiar and wasn’t at the same time. It sounded like something that he’d heard at those loud clubs on the street, but at the same time, he knew it was his own.

“Protect the King!” Tchaicoltsky cracked open an eye before suddenly springing wide at what he was seeing. His jaw dropped at the sight of a creature that looked exactly something out from his imagination. The uniformed, two-legged mouse with a bayonet pointed rifle. One that blocked the hoof of his attacker. Not only that but the alleyway was being covered in ice and falling snow, much to his added confusion.

“What the-” His attacker was about to say but the mouse soldier used the riffle to toss him aside before pointing his bayonet at him. There were other shouts as Tchaicoltsky looked at the other two stallions that attacked the doctor. Four more uniformed mice soldiers smacked them with the butts of their weapons and onto piles of garbage bags.

“My King, are you alright?” A gray paw reached out to the stunned composer and saw that it was from the one that saved him. With a dumb nod, he reached out to get him back on his hooves. “It’s not safe here, we must get you out.”

“Not without him!” Tchaicoltsky rushed over at the bruised and equally confused doctor. “They were attacking him.”

“Ski? What?” The doctor was helped up by him and the other mice soldiers. “Who are they?! What are they!?”

“I don’t know!” The Pegasus grabbed his hoof. “Let’s get out of here!” But even as the two of them galloped away from the frozen alleyway, the mice soldiers and the wintery cold followed them out into the bustling street. With every step Tchaicoltsky took, ice formed while leaving a blizzard behind. Right at his tail, the five soldiers ran behind him, carrying their weapons, making those in front quickly dodge out of the way.

And the music too followed him as it was getting faster and louder. But just as he was about to cry out to make this madness stop, the sound instantly went away before it could finish. Suddenly he wasn’t trailing an ice trail but the snow that was left behind remained there. He only had a brief glance at the winter wonderland that he left behind.

At least the doctor was out of harm’s way. “In here! My office!” With a sudden turn, Tchaicoltsky was being led into a three-story building made out of glass. The doctor took out a key from his wallet with his magic, swiftly unlocked its double doors before escorting the Pegasus in to lock it behind them. Once inside the dimly lit foyer, the two stallions collapsed on a couch.

“Are you… alright?” Tchaicoltsky asked, out of breath.

“Give me a minute…” Dr. Assurance heaved for a few minutes before turning to the stallion next to him. “Okay… Did I miss something? Just… What was that?”

“I was half hoping you could tell me.”

The unicorn doctor blinked. “You mean you don’t know who those… rat… things were?”

“Well yes, no… maybe?” Rubbing his eyes, the Pegasus asked, “First of all, they're mice, and second… What happened back there? Why were you attacked?”

After taking in a deep breath, Assurance began, “Okay, first thing’s first. I was going home, and I was mugged. They snatched me from the street, demand my wallet, and beat me up when I tried calling for help. And then you came along… Seriously, what was that?”

“Doctor, I swear to Celestia that I don’t know what happened. I just got so scared and then they popped out of nowhere to…” He stopped as he realized something. “Why did they call me their king? And why did they save us? They’re supposed to be the villains.”

“I’m sorry, what?” A hoof gripped the Pegasus as he was made to look at him. “Villains? You mean you know those things?”

“It’s…” Tchaicoltsky got up from the couch to look through the glass walls. “It’s hard to explain, but they were part of a… story I once adapted. They were the antagonists in the-”

“The Nutcracker.”

The young Pegasus swiftly turned his head, wide-eyed. “How did you know?”

“Well… That’s another thing I wanted to ask, back at that alley, I heard some version of The Nutcracker. Oddly enough, it was coming directly from you. As if you were a walking speaker or something.”

Tchaicoltsky let out a tired sigh as he sat on the floor. “I honestly don’t know what is going on. I just want to pretend that all of this is just a dream that I’m going to wake up from. I want it to stop,” a sniff was heard as the doctor notice tears forming in his eyes, “and… I want to go home.”

He heard hoofsteps walking up from behind before he felt a pair of forelegs being wrapped around his withers. As he was being hugged, Tchaicoltsky couldn’t help but notice the empty feeling in his belly was easing away, and his tongue tasted of something incredible. It was sweet and warm while having the taste of every pleasant flavor he could think of and countless others that he couldn’t describe. And yet, his mouth wasn’t even open and it was empty. But something in him told him what he was tasting... was compassion.

“Look, Mr. Sky,” the Doctor said, “I can obviously tell that you’re having a really rough time. But for now, whatever you did, consider yourself a hero. My wallet is still with me and I’m still alive. I owe you that. Besides, I can see that you’re troubled, so out of what you did for me, I want to help you if you let me. If you’re hungry, I’ll find places that would feed you. If you need a place to sleep, I’ll point you to some shelters here in the city. But if you need someone to talk to, to help you deal with whatever issues you have – come here to my office. You’ll be welcome here at any time.”

Tchaicoltsky sniffed as he looked up at him. “You mean that?”

He nodded. “For now, we’ve got to make a report to the police. But after that, if you’re hungry, I’ll see if I can get you whatever you want.”

The composer stepped out of his hug. “You know what… I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”

---

At the Salt Lick in Appaloosa, a yellow stallion with a golden mane walked up to the bar exhausted. Something that frequent customers noticed almost immediately – that instead of waltzing in to chat his head off to everyone in his usual carefree demeanor, he walked in quiet, head low and hooves dragging up to a stool.

Even the barpony, with his handlebar mustache, raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

“Pour me a cider,” he muttered, “Ah think Ah’m gonna need it.”

“That bad today, Braeburn?”

“Let me have mah drink first.” So after opening a bottle and pouring it into a mug, the cowpony tilted his head back to let the liquid go straight to his stomach. “It’s the new farmhoof Ah’ve hired. Ya know, the weirdo that says he was a really big fella down on his luck and lookin’ fer a job ta get back home?”

“The one with the messy mane?”

“Bingo.” He waved for another fill. “He jus’ wants enough fer a ticket out of town, but given what’s goin’ on, Ah don’t think he’s leavin’ anytime soon.”

“How come?” The barpony asked as he opened another bottle.

“It’s springtime.”

The mustached pony raised an eyebrow. “So Ah’ve noticed.”

“No. Do ya know what apple trees are supposed ta do at this time of year?”

“Blossom?”

Braeburn nodded as the barpony poured him another drink. “There’s not a single bud on any of mah trees. Not a one! And that’s what’s addin’ so much stress is if there’s no blossoms, there’s no apples. And if there’s no apples…” He took a gulp of the cider. “No bits. And from there, no bits means no means ta pay mah farmhooves, nothin’ ta pay off taxes with, and no means ta live here.” He gave off a frustrated sigh, “Ah need a miracle right now. If those trees don’t blossom soon, then Ah’ll have ta move someplace else.”

A low whistle was the barpony’s reply. “That is pretty serious indeed. So how much does… what his name needs?”

Here, a chuckle escaped Braeburn’s muzzle. “Ya know, Ah just found out what it was today. His name Ah mean. So to an extension, Ah think he ain’t all right in the head.”

“How come?”

“Get this.” Braeburn leaned forward. “This guy actually believes he’s Ludwig van Beethooven.”

A smirk graced across the barpony’s lips. “You’re kiddin’?”

“He insists on it. Why ya should have been there when he-”

Before the yellow cowpony could finish, an explosive slam of the double swinging doors flew open, along with the shout of: “Get me your finest Lager, Herr Kommissar!”

Braeburn groaned as he landed his head against the bar.

He was here.

Comments

[Moonlight Tome]

Before the yellow cowpony could finish, an explosive slam of the double swinging doors flew open, along with the shout of: “Get me your finest Lager, Herr Kommissar!”

If I had water right now, I would spit it out laughing! Such theatricality!