Will Call (Part One)
Will Call
(Part One)
The deafening applause of the several hundred audience members reverberated throughout the concert hall; one by one they stood up stomping their hoofs with increased ferocity as the lone figure on the concert stage took her final encore bow and disappeared behind the large red velveteen curtain.
Backstage away from the applause Octavia made her way through a myriad of ponies shaking her hoof in congratulations and adding to the pile of flowers she already carried.
After navigating through the masses she closed the door to her green room breathing a heavy sigh of relief that the night was over, but more than anything she was happy the performance had been a success. Months of late night rehearsals sitting in silence while the orchestra practiced through her concerto fixing mistakes and perfecting sections were finally at an end. The best part of putting on a performance though was being able to pick another piece afterwards and begin the journey all over again.
Smiling at the thought of working on a new piece she placed her cello on a stand in the corner and set down the armful of flowers she received next to her on the couch. A fresh pot of tea was waiting for her on the coffee table placed there earlier by the concert hall staff; leaning over Octavia began to pour a cup when she heard a soft knocking emanate from the door.
After a concert many of the musicians would go out for a night on the town then over a few drinks revel in the satisfaction of yet another successful performance. It would be safe to assume it was one of them knocking at the door coming to fetch her for this anticipated tradition.
It’s easy to imagine her surprise when Octavia opened the door to find not one of her fellow musicians but a tall stallion dressed in a brown military officers uniform wearing a brimmed cap with the large brass emblem of the Royal Equestrian Military pinned to it.
“Please forgive my intrusion ma’am” stated the officer, “it looks as if you were expecting sompony else?”
Octavia stood in the doorway with a puzzled look, her mind raced over why this officer would be here, could it be a summon to play in the royal quartet, or maybe it’s to….
“Ma’am?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry”, replied Octavia realizing she had lost herself in thought “what can I do for you?”
Clearing his throat “I have been sent by the Royal Equestrian Military to have a word with you” replied the officer “may I have a seat?”
“Oh yes, um please come in, sit down” said Octavia as she gestured the officer to one of the two arm chairs placed across from the couch.
“May I offer you some tea Mr…..”
“It’s Sgt ma’am, and no I’m quite alright”
Sitting down the officer removed his cap placing it upon the table between the two arm chairs.
“I happen to watch your performance tonight” he said with smile.
“Well, I hope it was enjoyable”, replied Octavia as she sat down and poured herself a cup of tea.
Looking up from her tea a small grin grew on her face “Sgt. I suspect you didn’t come backstage simply to compliment me on my performance, you had a question for me?”
“That’s correct ma’am, I represent a branch of the Royal Equestrian government” the officer paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, “you exhibit a particular set of skills that could prove to be invaluable to us.”
“Skills?” replied Octavia, “you couldn’t possibly be talking about my cello playing?”
“To an extent yes, however….”
“You want me to perform with the Royal Equestrian string quartet!?” said Octavia excitedly rising from her seat.
“No ma’am” chuckled the Sgt, “no this is something far more important”
The wide smile that had grown on her face quickly disappeared as she sat back down, now rather embarrassed.
“Well, then” said Octavia as she cleared her throat and reached for a cup of tea “what exactly is it that you need of me?”
“We’re in need of your service” replied the officer.
“Suffice it to say there are certain events which have unfolded that will force our nation into a precarious position within the next 48 hours.”
The Sgt reached into his tunic pocket and handed her a slip of paper folded in half; Octavia set her cup down to unfold the paper, the only information written was a number and two words “64 Baker Street” to which she furrowed her brow and stared inquisitively at.
Looking up from the paper she stared at the Sgt, “I’m sorry but I don’t seem to follow, what exactly is….”
“I am not at liberty to say ma’am, it’s on a need to know basis” said the Sgt cutting in, “I can however tell you it’s an address in Canterlot and should you accept my invitation you are to appear there at a time and date of your choosing”.
Octavia sat on the couch staring at the piece of paper, what on earth is this stallion alluding to? It’s all so vague.
“Are you alright?” spoke the Sergeant in a rather loud voice as he leaned over the table.
“Oh yes, Sgt I hope you understand if I’m quite confused” she explained.
“I understand your confusion ma’am and I wish I could explain in more detail” replied the sergeant.
The stallion began to stand up and straighten his jacket buttoning one of the brass buttons that had come undone; he picked up his cap from the end table then turned back towards Octavia.
He took a long pause his eyes wandering around the room until they fell upon Octavias cello resting on a stand in the corner. He walked over to the instrument admiring its warm finish and the fine craftsmanship which had gone into its construction; he then turned to Octavia and spoke in a solemn tone; “Should you accept this invitation you will become part of something that could stem the tide of war”.
The officer looked at his cap and brushed off its top; placing it on his head he let out a heavy sigh “I hope you visit us soon”.
Walking around the coffee table the officer took Octavias hoof as she rose to see him out.
“Thank you ma’am for a wonderful performance tonight” said the officer.
Octavia blushed as she let go and the officer took his leave; but not before nearly bumping into a tan colored mare in a black concert dress as she walked into the green room, to which the Sgt tipped his hat, gave a smile, and continued on.
“Who was that?” inquired the mare,
“Honestly I don’t know” said Octavia,
“Well, grab your coat everyponie’s leaving for the pub; you can tell me all about it over a pint”
With a smile Octavia packed up her cello, snatched up her coat and the two musicians departed.