The Master Cellist

by Veridian Phantom

Music is Magic (literally)

The mansion before you towers above even the tallest of ponies. You step forward to open the gate, but it won't budge, you look around and spot a small silver box with a speaker on it. 'Maybe I have to talk into this?' You thought to yourself.

You cautiously walk up to the silver box and press the little red button protruding from the device.

“Uh-uhm... Hello?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

You jump back a few feet from the invisible voice.

“I-I'm here to see Mrs. Philharmonica, she's expecting me?” Your voice is jittery.

“Yes, well come in. The gate is unlocked.” The mysterious voice replied.

You hear a faint click and an alarm go off to indicate the gate is unlocked. You slowly walk up to the gate, and stand there a moment, unmoving. With a gulp to clear the lump in your throat, you push open the gate. A mess of colors in every direction bombard your vision. The garden on the left featured: Lilies, tulips, and a whole bunch of other flowers you’ve never seen before. The smell from all the different flowers is almost overwhelming, but then, a calm came as your smell sensors picked up on your favorite one, the lilacs. To the right is a path leading towards a white canopy with chairs laid around it, probably for the gardeners to rest for a minute or two.

The mansion however, is a magnificent sight to behold. It looms over the village, easily three stories high. The mansion is of old architecture from the mid 1800's. The stone slabs have cracks in them here-and-there, white pillars connect from the roof to the ground, which are growing vines,wrapping around them. The entrance into the 'palace' is massive, an archway stood above the doorway. The door itself is made of wood, mahogany most likely, and has the crest of the Philharmonica family. The crest is of two ponies in symmetrical form holding cellos, a lion resting on top of the coat-of-arms, and lastly a big treble clef resides in the center of the shield.

The door to the mansion begins to move inward, a small but old pony resembling a butler steps out. He motions for you to come closer. The stallion has a white mustache and a black coat which splits into two pointy parts at the end, his coat is pale white and wrinkly.

You inch closer to the house, you are slightly hesitant in your footing because you feel out-of-place. Much like you don't belong. 'Come on, I must not keep her waiting, just MOVE!' Your hooves respond and start moving more quickly. Your heart beating faster and faster as you get closer.

“Well come now, you don't want to keep her waiting now do you?” He snidely remarks.

“Yes well in your case you may keel over and die before we get to her.” You rebut.

He scowls at you with an evil intention in his eyes.

“Right this way, sir.”

You follow him inside towards the lobby. The lobby is huge, on either side of the room are two sets of stairs that wind up to the second floor. In between the stairs lies a fountain in which water trickles down the sides as to not make too much noise, a very basic fountain. The walls are of the same material as the door, but painted beige to match the ambiance of the chandelier hanging just above the fountain. The chandelier is made of crystal to allow light to pass through it and give the walls an added effect as if in a reflection. The floor below you is made of a unique kind of marble, unsure of its origin you can't name it.

“Right in here, sir.”

‘There it is again, it's like he enjoys pissing people off.’ You think to yourself. “Alright, no need to patronize me.”

The butler leads you to the left and you enter a large room with a fireplace at the back. An abundance of comfortable leather chairs and a couch with a soft throw cover, line the room. The side tables and coffee table are all made from cherry wood. You could see the room is cozy because of the large ornate rug on the floor, covering the cold, hard marble from the foyer.

“My Celestia, it all looks so grand.” You say in awe.

“Ah you've arrived, splendid. I see you brought your cello as requested as well.” A profound and familiar voice called out to you from a seat to the right.

The butler leaves the room and closes the door behind you, leaving you and Octavia alone in the room. Her instrument is propped up against the couch she's sitting on.

“Y-yes as you requested, but why did you want to meet with me?”

“Slow down there, first have a seat.” She waves a hoof over to the couch across from her.

“A-alright.” You're hesitant at first, but you manage to get to the couch.

“The reason I called you here, or rather, asked you to come here, is because of your cello. Do you know of its significance or what it is?” She cocked an eyebrow awaiting your response.

“Uh-uhm, no... no, not really. I know my cello is signed by the maker, but I'm guessing there's more of a reason?” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, her gaze making you more anxious by the second.

She lets out a small sigh knowing this may be the case. She turns in her seat to point to a portrait of a woman who closely resembles Octavia. 'Probably her mother.'

“That's my mother, she had a brilliant mind, she was of the first to discover the power of music. She was the one to discover that it's much like magic. At birth a foal is given the ability to listen to music, but the level of it, is dependent on the foal. For example: some foals may be perfectly fine whilst listening to a piece of music, while others may fall asleep to some pieces. Most of the more advanced songs however just deter young ones away by having their minds go blank and then boredom strikes.

When it comes to playing music, one must be strong enough to withstand its powerful tones and voices. Playing an instrument requires practice, and to feel the movements of the instrument.” She twirls around to face you, and smirks. “Haven't you even wondered why your cello, which is rare, has been signed by the maker, is of the greatest sound, and looks exactly like mine?” She craned her head forward, and raised an eyebrow.

You start to get hotter, a bead of sweat rolls down your face. It's like you're in class and you just failed the exam.

“Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?” You weakly laugh and force a smile.

Octavia just glances at you and replies.

“No, it's just you. Calm down there, I'm not patronizing you or giving you homework to complete.” She's dead serious. The couches made of a darker leather than most gave an unlikeable sound as Octavia re-seated herself with cello in hoof. She shifted her weight to allow for better playing position.

Taking up the bow she runs the piece of wood and string along the face of the cello, allowing for a faint but sad sound. She let's out a small cough, then clicking a button on the table next to her a small disk falls from above the fireplace into the disk player resting above it. She straightens up, closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. After a few short moments the music begins to play (play music). She follows the first cello heard from the song flawlessly.

You lean your head back, taking in the sweet sounds, humming along to the tune in your head. The beautiful crescendo in the music filling your taste buds to the brim of pleasure. Your mind explodes in the aroma of power emanating from the instrument and slowly falls into a sleepy state. More and more you feel your senses slip away from you. Straining to stay awake only gives you a few seconds more before you finally let go and fall asleep (stop music).

“Hey...” The voice is faint and echoes through your head a few times. It then goes silent, not a sound, nothing. It's pitch black. “Hey...”

'There it is again.' You wonder. 'Am I dreaming?'

A sudden splash of cold water shocks you awake, you jump a good five feet in the air. Panting wildly you look around the room, Octavia and the butler were standing next to you with an empty bucket. You look over to see the couch soaking wet, and your coat as well.

“D-did I fall asleep?” Your voice cracked and it came out squeaky.

Octavia giggled a bit, and the butler smirked then walked out of the room, again closing the door behind him.

“Yes you did, now do you see what I mean by the power of music? This is a piece conducted by my brothers, uncle, and father. All cello players like myself, well my uncle is a pianist, but plays quite well with a cello.” Her pride's showing, it is as apparent to you as it is, that Santa Hooves is fake.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, the song is beautiful!” You try to assure her that you did listen despite falling asleep.

Her expression screamed, not amused.

“Now listen up... go sit over there.” She points to a recliner left that is on the left of the soaked couch. “You fell asleep because the power of that song is too great like I had explained. The reason I called you here is because your cello is the twin to mine.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Questions start to float into your head like a river, but confusion is only the start of this journey so far.

“I mean, take a look.” She turns her cello around so the back is facing you, and written on the right corner is Andrea Amareti.

“What in the hay? You have a signed one too?” You squinted your eyes to get a closer look. Sure enough the curves around the A's are the exact same as the A's on yours. The only difference is that yours has the signature on the bottom left.

“Now do you see it? Our instruments are of a matched set, these two were the originals played by Andrea Amareti, and my mother Octave Philharmonica. The question I'd like to ask you is, how did you obtain Andrea's cello?” A hint of concern crossed her voice.

Your tongue is starting to get dry, you flick your tongue hoping to get a little saliva going, but to no avail.

“May I have some water please?”

“Uh, can you wait?” She begins tapping her left hind-leg rapidly.

“No, I need water, this is a little much for me to handle all of a sudden.”

Octavia lets out a small sigh and gives you directions toward the kitchen.

The mansion is so big that there are many lefts and rights that need to be taken just to get there. The walls and ceilings were littered with paintings, portraits, and murals. The floor clicks with each tap of your hooves against it, the floor feels chilly and hard. The air is warm from the air conditioning. While observing the architecture you happen upon the kitchen rather quickly, stepping inside quietly you see but one stallion with a chefs hat on.

“Uh-uhm, excuse me sir?”

“Eh, pardon mois? Who is this in mah kitchen?” He rushes towards you, knife in tow. His thick heavy french accent, obviously indicates he's from Prance. He's a griffon, with a sharp beak, brown feathers, white neck, and every other body part a griffon has. His most endearing quality must be that mustache of noticeable french length.

You cringe at the immediate assault from a crazy guy with a knife. He stands there watching you like a hawk, making sure you don't try anything funny.

“I'm just here for a glass of water, please don't kill me!” You duck to the ground and cover your head with your hooves, trembling as the stallion above you holds a knife ready to cut.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? (what is this). I'm not going to hurt you young one. If it's a glass of water you want, there's a glass in the cupboard below the microwaves, and the water is from the tap. Make it quick.” He resumes whatever it is he's doing and doesn't look back at you once.

The kitchen is a sight to behold, much like the mansion it's big. There are two microwaves lined up in the far corner on a shelf. Two stoves for the master chef. An 'island' in the center for all the chefs to cut things on, with garbage cans in the middle for easy waste disposal. A massive fridge and freezer stood side-by-side in the back next to the microwaves. The walls are all white and blue tiles like in a bathroom, and the floor is marble like the rest of the place. No windows were in the room, but ventilation ducts were all over the room for safe measure. The sink is sitting next to the indoor barbeque which is next to the stove.

Quickly trotting over to the cupboard below the microwaves, you open it, grab a glass and head over to the sink. The steel-grade finish on the sink makes it impervious to rusting from the dirty dishes, and the stink of the barbeque. 'Fancy...' You turn the tap to cold and let it run for a few seconds before diving your glass underneath the stream of water, it quickly fills and you turn it off. You gulp down the last remnants of your tasty drink, the soothing water caressing your throat with the coolness of the ocean.

You place the glass you used in the sink and begin to trot out, before leaving you turn back around and bow to the chef. Giving him a compliment on the aroma of the salt beef he is cooking.

“Thanks again for the drink.”

“EH? Don't worry about it, you're welcome!” The quirky chef replies heartily.

You head out into the hall to return to where Octavia is, you slow down your pace a bit. Hesitant to get back to the 'lesson' that she is giving you. You try to process all the information and things that happened just in the last hour. You have a cello that's her cellos twin, her level of music is far beyond your wildest dreams. Lastly, you no longer think this is a date.

Deep in your imagination you trot slowly through the halls and come to a stop next to a mural depiction of Octavia and her family, the entire wall is covered with a tree diagram of her family, but one spot in the tree is blacked out. Sitting there contemplating what it may mean, you barely notice a sharp scream come from the sitting room where Octavia is.

'This can't be good...' You thought.

Comments

[DerpyMuffins15]

First? Hmm. Hope I dont get blue shelled.

[Skywind]

more...........

[Veridian Phantom]

1159203

you mean first in chapter 3? lol otherwise you ain't first

1159413

there will be more, MORE I SAY!

[Warhorse_Legend]

CURSE YOU CLIFFHANGERS!!!

[Veridian Phantom]

1171738

without 'em, would you want more? *trollface.jpeg*

[StarSorio]

I hope the griffion person was making himself a private meal with the beef, (unless salt beef is some fancy thingie for some other thing), given that ponies are herbavores.

Also i think that it doesn't really take a "strong mind" to "handle" the power of music, more so it takes a person to develop an ear for them....Although i have tuned my violin before and the sound can be quite dizzying. BEEWWEEEWEEEEEEEBWEEEBWEEEBWEEE.....

...course, that's just my personal opinion, being a music student learning music as well as Piano and Violin...but in all seriousness this is a nice story. The charther doesn't seem half bad, even if he may not be all that bright.